Olivia: Jackson, what’s the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the phrase 'newborn baby'? Jackson: Oh, easy. Sleepless nights, a weird smell, and the sudden, terrifying realization that you can't return it to the store. Olivia: That is a brutally honest and perfect answer. And it’s exactly the territory we're in today with Dawn Dais's book, The Sh!t No One Tells You: A Guide to Surviving Your Baby’s First Year. Jackson: A title that promises not to hold back. I like it already. Olivia: It absolutely delivers. And Dais is the perfect guide for this. She's not some clinical expert; she's a writer and mother of four who lives in a chaotic house with dogs, cats, and chickens. She wrote this book because she felt blindsided by what she calls the 'vast conspiracy' of silence around how hard parenting really is. Jackson: A conspiracy! That sounds dramatic. What does she mean by that? Is there a secret society of parents whispering, "Don't tell the pregnant ones the truth, they'll run for the hills"? Olivia: That's pretty much it! She argues that society, media, and even our own friends and family create this idealized, glossy image of parenthood that sets new parents up for a massive shock.

Jackson: Okay, I can see that. You see the commercials with the glowing mother, the serene baby, everything bathed in soft, golden light. Olivia: Exactly. Dais has this brilliant takedown of those old Johnson & Johnson commercials. You know the ones, with the tagline "Having a baby changes everything." Before she had a kid, she’d watch them and get all misty-eyed, thinking it meant she'd just be washing different things in the sink. Jackson: Right, like tiny socks instead of wine glasses. A simple, adorable life upgrade. Olivia: Precisely. But after her daughter was born, she realized the reality was so much more intense. She fantasized about making a more accurate commercial. Picture this: a sleep-deprived mother with a thousand-yard stare, a baby screaming bloody murder in the sink, and water overflowing onto the floor as the mom just blankly watches. The tagline would be the same, but the meaning would be… different. Jackson: That is a commercial I would watch. It feels more honest. It reminds me of those friends on Facebook. You know, the ones who post a perfect photo of their two kids sitting still and smiling, with the caption "So blessed!" meanwhile you know their house is probably a beautiful, sticky warzone. Olivia: Dais dedicates a whole chapter to that! She calls out the "So Blessed!" mom. But she offers a really insightful take on it. She says it's not always about deception or trying to make other parents feel bad. Often, it's a coping mechanism. Jackson: A coping mechanism? How so? Olivia: Think about it. The baby has been screaming for three hours, the toddler is trying to ride the dog like a pony, and you finally, for one-and-a-half seconds, get a non-blurry photo where no one is actively crying. Posting "So blessed!" is a way of convincing yourself that you're okay, of finding one tiny, perfect moment in the middle of the chaos to hold onto. It’s a life raft. Jackson: Wow, that’s a much more generous interpretation than mine. I usually just assume they’re lying. But that makes so much sense. It’s a way to reframe your own reality, even just for a minute. Olivia: And that's the core of the conspiracy she describes. It's not always malicious. Her own friends, who were already parents, just said "Congratulations!" when she got pregnant. It was only months later, when she was at her wit's end and finally confessed how hard it was, that they all said, "Oh my god, it's the worst, right? Let me tell you about the time my kid..." Jackson: They were waiting for her to join the club before they shared the secret handshake. Olivia: Exactly. And Dais’s book is that secret handshake, given to you upfront. It’s the permission slip to admit that it’s hard, that you’re overwhelmed, and that you’re not alone in feeling that way. The book's reception really reflects this; it's been polarizing for some readers who find it too negative, but for many others, it's a complete lifesaver precisely because it's so unflinchingly honest.

Jackson: Okay, so the conspiracy of silence isn't just about being tired or dealing with a messy house. Where else does it show up? Olivia: Oh, it gets much more personal. Dais argues the silence extends to the brutal physical and emotional reality that no one prepares you for. She has this hilarious and incredibly practical chapter called "Raid the Hospital." Jackson: Wait, raid the hospital? Like, stealing supplies? Olivia: Let's call it 'strategic acquisition.' She says that despite all the baby supplies you get at your shower, the hospital has the good stuff. She tells this story of her and her partner, Becky, staying a few extra nights because their baby was underweight. They started by taking a few blankets and maxi pads. By the end, they were sneaking an industrial-sized hand sanitizer squirter into their luggage. Jackson: No way. That’s amazing. What are the must-have items? I need to know for my future, hypothetical hospital raid. Olivia: According to Dais and her "Moms on the Front Lines"—this group of friends whose stories are woven throughout the book—the number one item is the nose sucker. The hospital ones are apparently 576 times better than anything you can buy. Also, the mesh underwear for postpartum recovery. One of the moms, Amy, said she loved them so much she sometimes still slept in them. Jackson: Mesh underwear as a coveted item. This is the real-world intel people need! It’s funny, but it also points to how unprepared people are for the physical recovery. Olivia: Completely. And the emotional battlefield is just as intense. The book doesn't shy away from how much strain a baby puts on a relationship. It's not that you stop loving your partner, but you're both exhausted, stressed, and have no idea what you're doing. Jackson: And you can't yell at the baby, so you yell at the person next to you. Olivia: You are getting it. Dais shares this incredible story. She and Becky are sleep-training their four-month-old, Vivian, using the 'cry-it-out' method. The baby is wailing, and Dais, armed with internet research, insists they can't go in and pick her up or it will 'reset the clock.' Jackson: A classic new-parent standoff. I can feel the tension. Olivia: It's palpable. Becky can't take the crying anymore and finally goes in and picks up the baby. Dais is furious and tells her, "Fine, you picked her up, you deal with her for the rest of the night," and goes to bed. A few minutes later, Becky storms into the dark bedroom, flips on the light, and since Dais is hearing impaired and needs to read lips, Becky gets right in her face and silently mouths the words, "I. HATE. YOU." Then she flips the light off and storms out. Jackson: Wow. That is... brutally real. And also, kind of hilarious in its specificity. The dedication to communication even in a moment of pure rage. Olivia: Right? But the best part is, the next morning, they both just laughed about it. Because it wasn't real hate. It was the pure, unfiltered exhaustion and frustration of new parenthood being channeled into the only available outlet. It’s a perfect encapsulation of what the book does so well: it takes these moments that feel so isolating and awful, and it shows you that they are not only normal, but survivable. Jackson: It validates the ugliness. It says, 'Yes, you might feel like you hate your partner at 3 a.m., but you're not a monster. You're just a new parent.' I can see why readers would feel so seen by that. Olivia: It's that feeling of shared experience. The book is full of these anecdotes from her 'Moms on the Front Lines,' and they cover everything from postpartum depression to the absurdity of dealing with a 'poop show' during a diaper change. It creates a sense of community.

Jackson: So if your life is a mess, your body is, in her words, 'ruined,' and you might temporarily hate your partner... where's the upside? Does the book offer any hope, or is it just a survival manual for a year-long disaster? Olivia: That's the beautiful pivot the book makes in the later chapters. It's not just about survival; it's about adaptation. There's a chapter titled "Your Life Is Officially Over." Jackson: Cheerful. Olivia: It's meant to be! She says to mourn your old life of sleeping in, spontaneity, and clean floors. It's gone. May it rest in peace. She tells this story about finding herself standing outside a Toys 'R' Us at 9 a.m. on a weekday with a group of other moms, all desperately waiting for it to open so they could buy diapers. It was a moment of realizing her old life was truly, irrevocably over. Jackson: I feel that. The death of spontaneity is a tough one. So what replaces it? Olivia: That's the magic. She argues that while you lose all that, you gain something else that is unexpectedly profound. And she captures it with this one beautiful, hopeful line. She says, "Somewhere on the horizon, just past diaper rashes and sleepless nights, lies a moment when the love of your life will walk up for no reason and say, ‘I love you, Mama.’ Then, all of a sudden, sleep and freedom will seem very, very small in comparison." Jackson: Okay, that hits hard. So it’s not about pretending the hard parts aren’t hard. It’s about acknowledging that the reward is just on a completely different scale. Olivia: Exactly. It’s a trade-off. And that leads to another one of her big ideas: "You Can’t Have It All." She dismantles the myth of the supermom who has a perfect career, a perfect family, and a perfect sense of self. She and her mom friends share their own struggles—some work, some stay home, some do a mix—and they all feel like they're failing at something. Jackson: So the book isn't just a list of complaints. It's a re-framing of success. It's not about having it all, but about figuring out what's actually important in the middle of the chaos. Olivia: You've got it. It's about redefining what "in shape" means for your new body, what a "successful day" means when you're sleep-deprived, and what a "strong relationship" looks like when you're both in the trenches. It's about letting go of perfection. Jackson: That feels like the most crucial piece of advice. What's the one thing from the end of the book, from the epilogue, that really ties all this messy, hilarious, and painful truth together?

Olivia: She closes with this incredibly self-aware reflection. She says that with her first child, she was always rushing to the next milestone—rolling over, crawling, walking—because she thought the next stage would finally be the one where she wouldn't feel so overwhelmed. But she realized that was a mistake. She was so focused on escaping the hard parts of the present that she wasn't appreciating the unique magic of each stage. Jackson: She was wishing the time away, which is what everyone tells you not to do. Olivia: Right. And she connects it back to the book's central theme of truth-telling. The book argues that true preparation for parenthood isn't about having the right gear or a perfect plan. It's about building resilience, finding humor in the horror, and giving yourself and other parents grace. Jackson: So the real 'shit no one tells you' is that you're going to mess up, and that's not just okay—it's the whole point. Olivia: That's the core of it. It’s about accepting imperfection. She shares this quote from an Anne Rice novel that she loved long before she had kids: "He moved with a grace and dignity that only comes from having once been cherished." And she says that, at the end of the day, that’s all that matters. Making your child feel cherished, even when the house is a wreck and you haven't showered in two days. Jackson: That's a powerful takeaway. It makes me think about the 'unspoken truths' in other parts of life, not just parenting. We'd love to hear from our listeners: what's the one piece of 'real talk' you wish someone had given you before a major life event—a new job, a move, a relationship? Share your stories with us on our social channels. We want to hear the sh!t no one told you. Olivia: This is Aibrary, signing off.