Dear Duchess of Cambridge: About Your New Baby...

Dear Duchess and Prince William:

The world congratulates you on the joyous birth of your son!

Good show, Cheerio, Pip pip and all that.

Now, let's get down to it... because no one else will say it, so I will.

Time to talk about the elephant in the room: the way your new baby looks.

You love your child, without a doubt, but he is fresh and new and you're still high from the euphoria of getting him out and the epidural that was so awesome. After you come down from the relief of finally birthing, some words may start floating around your head that will startle you. Don't panic, though your cerebrum tosses things out like “odd” “funny” “unusual,” when they first hand your baby to you. These words will give way to complete phrases, like "I just gave birth to Benjamin Button.”

I loved my firstborn the minute he was mine, make no mistake. I had waited a lifetime for this child, but, no matter how deep in gaga love you are as the parent, there is no way you won't notice the Shar Pei that your baby is.

Telling the truth here does not equal traumatize. I want to offer comfort and understanding, I want to give you a space where you can whisper "Sweet Winston Churchill, I thought it was just me." See, your Doctors will never prepare you for birth with paragraphs starting in "conehead, no neck, recessed chin, short rhino legs, long torso, wax covered, blue-gray face, swollen eyelids, pink rashes, yellow umbilical resembling snake-in-a-can, hairy forehead, hairy shoulders, hair everywhere except the head, teen acne, and purple finger nailed." And wax-covered. Said again, because it needs to be mentioned twice.

I could have used that.

I'm only leveling with you, new mom. You have lovely genes and your husband's nickname used to be DDG (drop-dead gorgeous). Take a breath and know you're not alone in this shock of feeling like you delivered something set aside for Area 51. A newborn looks like someone who has just spent nine months soaking in fluid, folded up like a wallet to fit into a space half their size, then pushed like a Himalayan sled head first through a luge tube. For twelve hours.

In other words, a face only a mother could love. And so, you do.

After a few minutes, of course. And try to ignore his resemblance to Tattoo from Fantasy Island.

Congrats, mama Kate, you will be head over heels punch drunk out of your mind blind in love with each new day you spend with your baby -- which is mommy goggles enough.

Rhino legs? Check. 24/7 terrified look on his face? Check. Gaah! He's so beautiful!

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