Nothing is as shocking as the change of the way you feel about your baby once he is no longer inside you. When I was pregnant I was repeatedly asked how I felt about the baby. “Do you love him?” I was asked over and over again. My answer was always the same: “I am protective of him”, and I was. I was very careful to keep him safe and well, but I had no actual feelings of love. Every prenatal visit I was amazed to see him and happy he was developing well. The dramatic change of those emotions post delivery is alarming to say the least.

Once discharged from the hospital and our tiny baby was bundled up in his snowsuit, it was January, and swallowed by our preinstalled car seat even though we had also installed the infant cushioning. I sat in the back of the car next to our newborn — something I had sworn I would never do — and held his hand while he slept through traffic, jabbing him lightly over and over to get a response.

The first night I cleared three quarters of the double bed for my son; there was a pillow on the far end, space, the baby, space, me and then sleeping in the 5cm left on the other side of the bed was my husband. By the third night I couldn’t ignore the seven books I was reading at the same time telling me that co-sleeping increases the risk of SIDS (Sudden Infant Death Syndrome), nothing is more terrifying to a new mom than those four letters put together. So with much heartache, I put my three-day-old boy in the travel cot installed in my sister’s bedroom to sleep for the night. Of course the night then meant the two hours till he woke up again demanding food, but still. He was so tiny in that vast huge cot that was barely 110cm x 70cm, looking out to me with huge brown eyes like a puppy lost in the desert. I would wake up alarmed after ten minutes and check that he was still breathing. I still do that at least once a night, and I am reassured by many a website and book that almost every mother does too.

The predominant thought I was left with the first week after taking baby home was how on earth they let me take such a small precious thing home with inexperienced me. I was alone unaided by any baby experts in the house. There was just my husband and I trying to figure out this thing called parenthood.

The first time we gave baby a bath was a historical day of stress, panic and frantic instructions. We were yelling over a bathtub placed on a towel laid over my sister’s bed with a good, old fashioned tesht (basin) and kooz (water jug) – our baby was way too small for any bathing gear, be it bathtub or chair.

The first eight weeks of babies’ lives they do little else other than feed, poop and sleep. You are on a three-hour routine — if you are following a routine — of change, feed, burp, hold, sleep and repeat. You are lucky if you sleep for four hours straight and all you want is someone to change the nappy just this one time. If you are not on a routine then you are simply waiting for your baby to wail for you to go through a checklist of what could be wrong. Is he wet? Is he burped? Is he cold? Is he hungry? Is he sleepy? Some mothers do well without a routine, I lasted 48 hours without a routine till I sent my best friend a text message at 6am close to tears telling her to report to duty immediately. She came over with a breast pump, shields and the explanation of what a baby schedule was. I really, really should have read those books before I had the baby.

Four months later, I can now tell you that my personal experience has taught me two things: Sleep when your baby sleeps if you don’t want to get a nervous sleep deprivation breakdown by week six, and some sort of a routine is a much better idea than popping your breast out every time your baby squeaks. Because, believe me, once he is two months old he will be squeaking, a lot.

The first few weeks with your baby are so precious, no words can do them justice, they are also so exhausting, and no words can do that justice either.

I will forever remember that first blue jacket, that first Tigger salopette (onesie) and the first time my baby slept next to me in bed. Nothing in the world feels like that, despite the bloodshot eyes and deep dark circles.