“Why’d [we] have to go and make things so complicated?”

Avril Lavigne, I hear ya.

Since becoming a mum I’ve encountered a whole new world of accessories, literature, hashtags, headlines. All this stuff that, just a couple of orbits of the sun ago, completely bypassed me. Before I joined the masses of parents that are bombarded with – and often blindsided by – the racket that comes with a bit of procreation in the West today.

Lockdown living has not spared us this fate; if anything, it’s propelled us more forcibly into its clutches. More time stuck at home tends to mean more time spent online and more exposure to all manner of opinions, targeted ads and (often carefully curated) snapshots from the lives of others. In fact, I’m beginning to suspect that the phrase ‘ignorance is bliss’ was born out of having kids. Not in reference to the cherubic fruits of our labour, but in reference to the sheer noise generated around their arrival, survival and upbringing.

It is justified, you could argue, because raising the next generation is kind of a big deal, whichever way we square it. And parenting is a life experience shared by many, no matter who we are or where we come from. So it’s perhaps unsurprising that, being the cripplingly self-aware creatures we are, we’re somewhat inclined to analyse and compare all aspects of child rearing.

In turn, it’s no surprise that budding parents have become big money. Whether we admit it or not, sooner or later most of us have ‘a wobble’ over the unparalleled responsibility we’re about to adopt. And, conveniently, it appears you can put a price on peace of mind, as the producers of the countless (often superfluous) baby products and services demonstrate. They tap into the deep fear of the unknown that parenting can evoke and effortlessly monetise it.  

Tom and I were pretty chilled until a couple of weeks before Ruby’s due date, at which point we’d been through the antenatal classes and had the creeping feeling that there was a cargo train of chaos hurtling towards us. I am loathe to admit it, but we found ourselves consulting sponsored lists such as ‘Top Ten Baby Monitors’ long into the night. And once you’re sucked in there’s no end to it. You’ve started playing the game of getting stuff, and you can’t win, you can only acquire more. Before you know it, you’re pregnant and you own a shit load of paraphernalia you don’t know how to use.

Alongside the acquisition of stuff, we also tend to accumulate advice. Sleep deprived and confused, we could be heard asking “where is the manual?” on day two of this brave new world with a baby. So it’s understandable if we feel parenting is one aspect of life for which we cannot over prepare. Like the information fiends we are, we tend to arm ourselves with details – preparing for battle before we know the rules of engagement.

We consume posts, books and blogs that tend to be equal parts comforting and anxiety inducing (I should know, I’ve written such stuff myself). Rarely is the information consistent. It’s like Googling the symptoms of a suspected illness and reading that it’s probably a passing issue on one page, before spotting a suggestion that it may be terminal on the next. As my mum likes to remind me, sometimes it’s best to close the browser and take a breath.   

So, 15 months into this parenting lark, I wonder if we’re too quick to consult ‘experts’, or maybe even anyone else, on what to do and when. From how to structure our days to what products will facilitate a calm unfolding of events. When the truth is – spoiler alert for any prospective parents – a calm unfolding of events tends to be the exception and not the rule. And, most of the time, what makes things easier is to simply accept that.

I find it comforting to remember – and surprisingly easy to forget – that I have access to innate wisdom, passed down through generations of child rearing, in the form of a maternal instinct. We are, after all, the latest in unknowably long lines of parents whose success is evident in our very existence. How about that for an antidote to a bit of self-doubt? It’s cheaper than the accessories and less anxiety inducing than our smart phones.

The thing is though, we need to cut out enough noise to be able to hear ourselves think. In order to do that, perhaps we have to resist the compulsion to consult the rest of the world as our first resource, just because we’re in the unprecedented situation where we can. And to stop drawing unhelpful comparisons with others – the ones that might make us feel a bit crap about ourselves. We’ll never have the full picture of someone else’s experience anyway, so it’ll never really stack up against our own.

We do, of course, depend on the wisdom and support of those around us to raise a family. It really does take a village and many today, it seems, are e-villages. But if we can be led by our instinct – which has been hell bent on keeping humanity alive long before the internet came along – maybe we’ll select only the advice, and the stuff, we actually need.  

I hope that, as restrictions end and we interact more with each other back in the ‘real’ world, we’ll realise the best parts of our day happen in the moments that aren’t checked, shared or logged online. That, as we get more adept at parenting (and living) in the digital age, we’ll grow out of Googling life and endlessly scrolling through other people’s experience of it. We might put our phones down more often, drawing on their incredible utility to facilitate our actions rather than inform them. Because we already know what to do, and – when we give ourselves half a chance – we just get on and do it.