There's a level to having a baby that is sheer monotony. It's survival. Tedium. Getting from one day to the next. You start to feel like it's ultimate futility due to its sameness. You go through this week's daily routine, thinking "just two more hours until Pete comes home and then I can..." Fill in the blank. And that blank is usually filled in with chores because you have stuff to do. It would be nice to kick back and read or just sit and knit and not think about the dishes or the Christmas Crap that still needs to be put away, but that Crap needs to be put away, and those dishes are not going to wash themselves.
Often, you feel like you are just getting by, especially if you are at home. If you are thinking that your job is the same thing after the same thing and having a baby will shake things up, it will. You will have a new tedium, except this one will have more poop.
Less sleep weirder dreams different worries more crying. You will understand that life exists to perpetuate itself and that any other meaning we heap onto it is just us, trying to make ourselves feel better.
Ok, maybe that's just me.