Olivia: Alright Jackson, you're a dad. You've been in the trenches of early parenthood. I need your five-word review of the What to Expect books. Go. Jackson: Oh, that's easy. The Bible that gives you faith… and anxiety. Olivia: (Laughs) That is the most perfect, concise summary I have ever heard. And it perfectly captures the love-hate relationship so many parents have with this series. Today, we're diving into that exact tension with the sequel, What to Expect: The First Year, by Heidi Murkoff and Sharon Mazel. Jackson: The one that takes you from the hospital exit to the first birthday cake smash. I know it well. It’s like the instruction manual you desperately wish your baby came with. Olivia: Exactly. And what's so fascinating, and frankly, a little ironic, is the origin story of the whole series. Heidi Murkoff, the main author, was motivated to write the first book during her own pregnancy because she was filled with anxiety and couldn't find a single resource that was comprehensive and reassuring. Jackson: Hold on. So a book series that has become almost synonymous with parental anxiety was actually created to cure anxiety? That feels like a plot twist. Olivia: It’s the central paradox of the entire franchise! It was born from a personal quest for calm, and yet for decades, readers have said it's a source of immense pressure. And that's what we're exploring today: the gap between the plan and the reality.

Jackson: Okay, so let's start there. The book is famous for its month-by-month structure. Month one, do this. Month two, expect that. It feels like a blueprint. Olivia: It is absolutely a blueprint. It’s designed to give you a sense of control and predictability in what is arguably the most unpredictable year of your life. A perfect example is the chapter "Buying for Baby." It’s this exhaustive guide to everything you could possibly need, from linens to grooming supplies. Jackson: Oh, I can feel my wallet getting lighter just hearing you say that. It’s the nesting phase on steroids, right? You're convinced that if you just buy the right stuff, you can somehow pre-solve all the future problems. Olivia: You've hit on it exactly. The book includes this brilliant little story called "The Case of the Pre-Warmed Wipes." It’s about first-time parents, Sarah and Mark, who get completely swept up in the online hype. They buy 41 newborn onesies… Jackson: Forty-one! For a creature that outgrows them in three weeks? That’s madness. Olivia: Pure, unadulterated, new-parent madness. They also buy Hollywood's favorite jogging stroller, even though they just walk in their local park. But the crown jewel of their shopping spree is the pre-warmed wipes dispenser. Jackson: Ah, the wipe warmer. The official symbol of a solution in search of a problem. Let me guess, the baby did not care one bit. Olivia: The baby's bottom was, and I quote, "perfectly comfortable with regular wipes." They quickly realized it was all completely unnecessary. They were buying for a fantasy baby, not the real one. And that’s the core of this first idea: the book provides a blueprint for a perfect, prepared world, but reality is always messier. Jackson: That makes so much sense. You're not just buying a crib; you're buying the idea of a peacefully sleeping baby. You're not just buying a high chair; you're buying the idea of a non-picky eater. The blueprint is more about managing the parents' emotions than the baby's needs. Olivia: Precisely. And to its credit, the book does try to acknowledge this. There's a great line in that chapter: "Convenience and comfort come first, cuteness second (really)." It's a little wink to the reader, admitting that all the frilly, complicated outfits are a nightmare to deal with during a 3 a.m. diaper change. Jackson: But isn't the book itself part of the problem? It lays out this massive checklist of things to consider, to buy, to do. It creates the very consumerist frenzy that the story of the wipe warmer is making fun of. It’s like it's simultaneously creating the disease and selling a partial cure. Olivia: That is a fantastic way to put it. It walks this very fine line. On one hand, it’s an incredibly valuable resource. If you want to know about different types of strollers, it’s all there. On the other hand, the sheer volume of information can imply that you need to consider all of it, that you need to make the "optimal" choice for every single item. Jackson: And if you don't, you're already failing. You're on page 55 and you've already failed because you chose the wrong diaper pail. Olivia: Exactly. And that fantasy of control, that blueprint, is never more fragile than when you're faced with the really high-stakes decisions. Which brings us to the anxiety paradox.

Jackson: Okay, the anxiety paradox. This is what my five-word review was all about. The book gives you answers, which feels good, but it also shows you a hundred new things to worry about. Olivia: And there is no topic more fraught with anxiety for new parents than feeding. The book dedicates a huge amount of space to breastfeeding, formula feeding, and combination feeding. It presents all the options, but the cultural pressure is immense. Jackson: It’s the first major test of your parenting, and it feels like everyone has an opinion. Olivia: The book captures this perfectly in another story, "A Mother's Dilemma." It’s about a lawyer, also named Sarah, who is determined to breastfeed exclusively. She’s read all the science, she knows "breast is best," and she feels this immense pressure to do it perfectly. Jackson: But life gets in the way, I'm guessing. Olivia: Her demanding job gets in the way. She's exhausted, her milk supply is dropping from stress, and she feels this crushing guilt. She even goes to a support group and feels overwhelmed by the pressure. The story's resolution is that she finds a middle ground—a combination of breastfeeding and formula that works for her, her baby, and her career. Jackson: That sounds like a healthy, realistic outcome. Olivia: It is. And the book offers this incredibly profound and compassionate quote. It says, "Almost nothing you do for your baby is right if it doesn’t end up feeling right for you—and that includes breastfeeding." Jackson: Wow. That's a powerful statement. That’s the kind of reassurance Heidi Murkoff was probably looking for when she was pregnant. Olivia: It is. But here's the paradox. That beautiful, empowering quote comes after pages and pages explaining why "Breast is best by far." So for many readers, it feels like the book is saying, "Here is the perfect, ideal path. And if you can't manage it, well, here's the off-ramp for failures." Jackson: I can see that. It's like giving someone permission to fail, but only after you've made it very clear what success looks like. And that's where the anxiety comes from. The book is so authoritative, it's been called "the bible of American pregnancy" for a reason. When a text has that much cultural weight, its recommendations feel like commandments. Olivia: And any deviation feels like a personal failing. You see this with other topics too, like circumcision. The book presents the medical pros and cons, but ultimately says it's a personal decision. And the data backs this up—circumcision rates in the US have been slowly declining, which shows that more parents are weighing the options for themselves rather than just following a default. Jackson: So the book is reflecting a cultural shift towards more individualized parenting choices, but its sheer authority can sometimes stifle that very instinct. It gives you all the information to make your own choice, but its tone and structure can subtly pressure you towards a "right" one. Olivia: That is the tightrope it walks. It aims to empower with information, but information overload can easily morph into pressure and anxiety, especially for sleep-deprived, hormonal, first-time parents who just want to do the right thing.

Jackson: So after all this, what’s the final verdict? Is What to Expect: The First Year a must-have for new parents, or a must-avoid? Olivia: I think it's neither. It's a tool, and a powerful one. The issue isn't really the book itself, but what the book represents and how we, as a culture, approach parenting. It's a perfect reflection of our modern desire for certainty, for data, for a "right answer" in a job that is fundamentally uncertain and intuitive. Jackson: We want to optimize everything, even raising a human. Olivia: Exactly. There's a reason the What to Expect series has sold over 22 million copies in the U.S. alone. It's because it promises a map for a territory that, in reality, has no map. It's selling reassurance in the form of a 600-page manual. Jackson: That’s a great way to put it. So the real takeaway for a new parent isn't to throw the book out, but to change how you read it. Olivia: Yes. The best advice I've heard is to use it like a dictionary, not a bible. Don't read it cover-to-cover and treat it as a progressive checklist for your baby's success or your failure. When you have a specific question—"What is this weird rash?" or "How do I install a car seat?"—look it up. Get the information, then close the book. Jackson: And trust yourself. Trust that you know your baby better than any book ever could. Olivia: That’s the heart of it. And maybe the most important question the book leaves us with, unintentionally, is this: In a world that bombards us with information and expert opinions, how do we learn to quiet the noise and listen to our own parental instincts? Jackson: That's a question for the ages. We'd actually love to hear from our listeners on this. What's your relationship with this book or others like it? Did it save you or stress you out? Find us on our socials and let us know. Olivia: This is Aibrary, signing off.