So, you've gone through the tension and anxiety of the pregnancy. You've kept your cool throughout your contractions, and gone through hours of what is probably the most challenging experience of your life to hold your gorgeous baby with a mixture of exhaustion, pride and probably puzzlement as to what you're supposed to do next.
Then there's a knock on the door... Your neighbour has called in (can you tell I live in a working class street in the North of England? Sorry to prop up stereotypes...), and she's reeking of fags with some flowers--the first of the many, many flowers and visitors who descended as soon as my daughter was born (we had her at home). I started to feel as if I was camping out in a funeral home.
Actually, I've missed a visitor. She knocked on the window of our living room whilst peering in just 7 HOURS after the midwives left and my husband had emptied the pool whilst drunk with tiredness (there was some fizz drunk, but not THAT much). First response: disbelieving fury. Until she got her meaning across. She hadn't come to bother us, she didn't need to see the baby. She just wanted to give us a bag of good stuff to eat and drink. Yes, for US, the parents, the knackered, freaked out people with the hunted look in our eyes! And I have never, ever forgotten it.
Now, if I don't have time to cook a family sized meal for new parents I make sure to buy them a meal deal- all major food groups are represented here: food, wine and pudding! (there I go, being Northern again...). New parents don't need baby socks, grows or flowers. They need chocolate, booze and the oxytocin created by being taken care of.