It's funny, there's so much about early parenthood that I've lost to the murk of my own faulty memory, but I can still remember the predominant thought in my mind both times I held a positive pregnancy test in my hand. It wasn't Hooray! Nor was it I'm the luckiest girl in the world! or I can't wait to embark on this miraculous journey of motherhood! Both times it was this: Oh dear god, what have I done??

Don't get me wrong, both pregnancies were very much wanted and hoped for (the second one, in fact, was pursued with a somewhat unromantic sense of purpose, as anyone who's ever involved fertility monitoring is all too familiar with: "RIGHT NOW WE NEED TO BE HAVING THE SEX. THE TIME FOR HAVING SEX IS NOW"). But I can't lie, amidst the heady swirl of emotions that accompanied those test results was the undeniable fear that I had made a really, really big mistake.

I have a friend who just had a baby. Like 99 percent of the population, she left the hospital looking like a semi-deflated version of the pregnant woman who checked in a couple days before. She had the signature pouch, the bloated feet, and the glazed look on her face. Like the rest of us. A few days later, at the baby's well-visit, an elderly woman began cooing over the infant. "She's gorgeous," the woman announced. "And, you're pregnant again, already?!"

How my friend didn't attack this stupid woman, I'll never understand. But, for her and all the other clueless people out there, here are 10 other things not to say to a new mother ...

I know there are some moms who really, really enjoy the newborn stage. In fact, the desire for more babies seems to be a primary reason why some people choose to have their second, third, or fifteenth child.

As for me, I found the newborn stage to be incredibly hard, and I wasn't even remotely looking forward to it with my second son. I mean, I was looking forward to meeting him, but truthfully if there would have been a way to gestate him until he was, say, 2 years old (because 1-year-olds are no picnic either), I might have done it.

The fact that I had such a hard time with my own young babies makes me wildly sympathetic to other new moms. I cannot think of a more difficult life stage than being postpartum and caring for a new baby. Yes, it's beautiful and miraculous and indescribably joyful—but it is also insanely challenging and sometimes just downright awful.

So I just read an article in Fitness magazine that purports to tell us moms (or at least those aspirational -- or downright masochistic -- moms who torture themselves by looking at the hard-bodied specimens in Fitness magazine) the truth about their bodies after they have a baby.

The article warns that it might take a while to lose the baby weight around your middle (nine months on, nine months off, and all that -- though it's been more than six years since I had my second child, and I'm not seeing much improvement; could they have meant nine months on, nine years off?). It notes that you might, you know, shed some hair a few months after you give birth, losing those lustrous pregnant-lady locks, and suggests "eating foods high in protein, iron, zinc, flavenoids, antioxidants, and silica," some of which I swear I've never heard of, though I'll be sure to look for "Silica Snax" at the grocery store next time I shop.

Good news for those of us who already know that men are as dramatically changed by bringing home a newborn as moms. Bad news for men who think their testosterone levels define them. Science says after a new baby comes home, men's testosterone levels drop. And the more men get involved with their children, the lower those man hormone levels go.

I say good news, because it's physiological proof that men also have to adapt to babies and have done so throughout time. Their bodies change, not unlike women's, when faced with caring for a newborn. Irrefutable proof that a man's job isn't over the minute he pulls up his pants. And those really great dads who continue to interact with their kids and stay involved? Well, they keep changing. 

Before I start jumping on the celebrity mom, I would like to say that I think Jessica Alba is absolutely adorable. Adorable. She seems as down-to-earth as one can be when you're a mega-star. She shows up to movie premieres nine months pregnant, she eats at Chili's at LAX (hey, Jessica, we were at the other end of the bar!), and she's yet to serve as a bad example to others through immature stunts and substance-fueled Hollywood nights.

But now, I'm very disappointed in the mom to brand new baby Haven. It seems Jessica Alba has started working out to get the baby weight off only two weeks after giving birth. Two weeks!

With the c-section rates climbing steadily in the U.S.A., chances are you, or someone you know, is about to go under the knife. And really, for a lot of people, it's not that bad. Of course you should try to go into labor, and find support for a vaginal birth. But sometimes the best plans go awry, and we wind up on our backs, not feeling a thing.

I had two c-sections, the first an emergency, the second because I went late and my doctor was no longer psyched about me having a VBAC. Quite frankly, I wasn't either as he grew, and grew, and grew some more. While I would have loved to have never had major abdominal surgery, there are a few things I wish I'd had on hand post-op, for myself and the babies. Percocet is obvious. But a few other things, not so much.

Are you having a hard time breastfeeding? Feeling frustrated, awkward, and worried about your flow? I’ve been there, sister-friend. And let me tell you, from personal experience and with science behind me: if you struggle with breastfeeding, you’re more at risk for postpartum depression. So be extra-kind to yourself, ask for help when you need it, accept help when it’s given, and above all, know the signs of PPD so you can attack it if it strikes.

We have this idea of motherhood that’s a lot like our idea of marriage: it’s the happily-ever-after, and everything’s supposed to go well because it’s what we’ve wanted for so long. What reality can live up to such romantic scrutiny? And when we can’t live up to our ideals, sometimes we tell ourselves we’re failures.

But we’re not.