It's been awhile since I posted about the trials and tribulations of modern day parenting in rich-green-mom-ville. Thankfully our parenting journey has been relatively "smooth" the past year or so, though by no means easy. But I've been jogged awake by a few events:
Tina (my new BFF) talks about breastfeeding nazis, and I'm sure you all know who I'm talking about. I've known a few. They made life hell when I was no longer able to breastfeed Elliot. One of my clearest memories of new parenthood was sitting in a lactation consultant/nurse's office when Elliot was 3 months old. He had started to scream whenever he saw my boob come near him (I mean, they are quite large, but still...how can a baby resist THESE? [insert lewd gesture of your own choosing]). He had stopped gaining weight as a result of this lack of enthusiasm for my aforementioned well-proportioned boobs. We would later discover that the source of this aversion was infant acid reflux (his poor tiny esophagus had been burned raw from the acid, and so he was in tons of pain when he ate. Being a smart kid, he learned not to like eating and subsequently developed a feeding aversion which took months to undo). Anyhoo, back to the nurse/lactation consultant's office. Actually, let's just call her "nurse asshole" to be more efficient. She put him on the scale, looked at me quizzically, and said he was not gaining weight and I would need to pump more often and bottle feed him. Since I produced roughly .00006 ounces of milk each time I pumped, I did the math and asked (through stifled sobs) about supplementing with formula. Her response, and I'm fairly certain this is a direct quote: "Well, you can do that if you have to, but just so you know, there are new studies showing that formula can actually cause some diseases".
I subsequently went home, burst into tears, and glided swiftly into a fun romp with postpartum depression. I furiously pumped for hours each day, obsessively measured each ounce Elliot drank,
and mentally whipped myself each time I opened the jar of formula to supplement my meager breast milk product. I soon developed the same anxiety and dread around feeding that my poor child was experiencing. I don't know how we got through that but we did. Let's just say it was not a fun way to start out our mommy/son journey.
I am not blaming this nurse for my post partum depression. Though clearly she did not help the situation. I'm certain she sat through numerous classes about how breast is best, formula is worst, and new moms need to be "encouraged" to breastfeed by any means possible. She was just trying to do her job. I am now sitting in some of these same classes, though thankfully the instructor who teaches our pediatric feeding course is far more fair-minded and down to earth about the topic. But as I sit in these classes each week with these beautiful young ladies who do not yet have children of their own, I worry that they will set themselves up for future self-torture, just as I did as a beautiful young lady (chortle chortle). Because what I finally realized is this: The greatest source of mom guilt was and still is my own expectations of myself as a mom, and my failure to meet these expectations.
Prior to actually having a child, I expected myself to breastfeed Elliot for at LEAST a year. I expected to LOVE being a full time stay at home mom and find it to be the most fulfilling experience on the planet. Neither of these things happened. But some things happened which I wasn't expecting. I was not expecting to love him THIS much...it is unreal how much you LOVE these little creatures who come out of you! I was not expecting to still need the balance of a career. I was not expecting him to look like a mini-version of my husband, and I was not expecting to find that so ludicrously adorable. I was not expecting to find such delight in his knobby little knees and stumpy big toes. I was not expecting that my favorite part of the day would be snuggling next to him and reading stories each night. I was not expecting to be so inept at coming up with crafty activities and games to play at home. IN essence, parenthood is NOTHING like you expect it to be; it is so much harder, and so much better (that's what she said).
So this brings me to my very profound advice for new moms, or for people who work with new moms, or just happen to have conversations with new moms:
1) Focus on what you do well! In any job, there are things you struggle with, and things you suck at (erm, I mean, "areas for improvement"). Try to do the sucky parts better when you can, but more importantly, focus on what you're GOOD at! I am good at singing and dancing and acting ridiculous with children. So I do that with Elliot...a lot. I don't do crafts with him because it usually results in someone throwing glitter across the room in frustration (hint: I'm not talking about Elliot). If nurse asshole had only affirmed what I WAS doing and that it WOULD be OK, I may have left her office smiling instead of sobbing. When I was tagging along on speech therapy home visits to families of infants and toddlers with special needs, I was taught to always point out what the parents were doing WELL with their little ones, and to build on those great skills while giving additional tools to help with the challenges. And EVERY parent encounters challenges, whether their child qualifies for services or not.
2) Ignore the breastfeeding-nazis (to quote Tina) and the mom-petitors. The more passive aggressive remarks they make about daycare or formula, the greater the hole in their own sense of self. Sad for them, but not your problem. When Elliot was two and I decided to return to graduate school, it was such a relief to meet other moms who worked AND were great moms with happy, well-adjusted children. I finally felt that I had found my niche as a parent. Not to say that there is anything wrong with staying home! Which leads to my next point:
3) Don't define yourself OR other moms by these dumb categories; work vs. stay at home, breastfed vs. formula fed; single child vs. multiple kids; "typically developing" vs "delayed". We are all in this together. Being a mom is just hard. There is no easy way around it. It's hard if you work outside the home or inside the home. Either way, you are ALWAYS WORKING. None of us has it easy, but at the same time, we are all SO fortunate to have the honor of raising these miracle boogers (seriously, they were inside of us! Now they are here! And they have legs! And arms! And tiny little noses! How crazy is that????). I have to make a conscious effort not to compare myself to the other parents who have a 2nd or 3rd child. When people start talking about the ideal spacing of siblings (should you have your kids 2 years apart or 3 years apart?) I think about having another child before you're ready and how that stress can impact the whole family. And then I do my best to leave the conversation and find people without children to talk to.
4) Try not to build up expectations about how it's going to be. That is impossible to avoid, I realize, but just know that it will be different than what you expect, and that really is OK.
5) Unless you are a pediatrician or a healthcare specialist of some sort, please do not start out conversations by asking moms about their child's developmental milestones. In fact, just add milestones to religion and politics on the list of things NOT to bring up in casual conversation.
And on that note, go give your little nugget a big fat squeeze, and then go give yourself a giant pat on the back (or a huge piece of chocolate). You're a good mom! Your kid is alive, loved, fed, and as healthy as you are able to get them. You rock.
- My recent clinical training as a speech pathologist, which focused on helping parents whose children have developmental delays of many sorts (speech/language/social skills/feeding skills/num chuck skills...).
- The periodic quandary about when to have another child (at some undisclosed and likely far off point in time) and the resulting trips down memory lane; recalling those early days of parenting a newborn, and the pure shock of realizing how hard, and amazing, and hard (that's what she said) and amazing parenting is.
- reading the best parenting book ever written....and no, I'm not talking about Dr. Sears...I'm talking about Tina Fey's "Bossy Pants". There are two chapters that she devotes to mom issues; 1 about being a working mom, and the other about breastfeeding. Those short, silly and wise chapters sum up how I feel about both issues, and the biggest message is "do what works for you and stop judging other moms if they do it differently".
Tina (my new BFF) talks about breastfeeding nazis, and I'm sure you all know who I'm talking about. I've known a few. They made life hell when I was no longer able to breastfeed Elliot. One of my clearest memories of new parenthood was sitting in a lactation consultant/nurse's office when Elliot was 3 months old. He had started to scream whenever he saw my boob come near him (I mean, they are quite large, but still...how can a baby resist THESE? [insert lewd gesture of your own choosing]). He had stopped gaining weight as a result of this lack of enthusiasm for my aforementioned well-proportioned boobs. We would later discover that the source of this aversion was infant acid reflux (his poor tiny esophagus had been burned raw from the acid, and so he was in tons of pain when he ate. Being a smart kid, he learned not to like eating and subsequently developed a feeding aversion which took months to undo). Anyhoo, back to the nurse/lactation consultant's office. Actually, let's just call her "nurse asshole" to be more efficient. She put him on the scale, looked at me quizzically, and said he was not gaining weight and I would need to pump more often and bottle feed him. Since I produced roughly .00006 ounces of milk each time I pumped, I did the math and asked (through stifled sobs) about supplementing with formula. Her response, and I'm fairly certain this is a direct quote: "Well, you can do that if you have to, but just so you know, there are new studies showing that formula can actually cause some diseases".
I subsequently went home, burst into tears, and glided swiftly into a fun romp with postpartum depression. I furiously pumped for hours each day, obsessively measured each ounce Elliot drank,
I am not blaming this nurse for my post partum depression. Though clearly she did not help the situation. I'm certain she sat through numerous classes about how breast is best, formula is worst, and new moms need to be "encouraged" to breastfeed by any means possible. She was just trying to do her job. I am now sitting in some of these same classes, though thankfully the instructor who teaches our pediatric feeding course is far more fair-minded and down to earth about the topic. But as I sit in these classes each week with these beautiful young ladies who do not yet have children of their own, I worry that they will set themselves up for future self-torture, just as I did as a beautiful young lady (chortle chortle). Because what I finally realized is this: The greatest source of mom guilt was and still is my own expectations of myself as a mom, and my failure to meet these expectations.
Prior to actually having a child, I expected myself to breastfeed Elliot for at LEAST a year. I expected to LOVE being a full time stay at home mom and find it to be the most fulfilling experience on the planet. Neither of these things happened. But some things happened which I wasn't expecting. I was not expecting to love him THIS much...it is unreal how much you LOVE these little creatures who come out of you! I was not expecting to still need the balance of a career. I was not expecting him to look like a mini-version of my husband, and I was not expecting to find that so ludicrously adorable. I was not expecting to find such delight in his knobby little knees and stumpy big toes. I was not expecting that my favorite part of the day would be snuggling next to him and reading stories each night. I was not expecting to be so inept at coming up with crafty activities and games to play at home. IN essence, parenthood is NOTHING like you expect it to be; it is so much harder, and so much better (that's what she said).
So this brings me to my very profound advice for new moms, or for people who work with new moms, or just happen to have conversations with new moms:
1) Focus on what you do well! In any job, there are things you struggle with, and things you suck at (erm, I mean, "areas for improvement"). Try to do the sucky parts better when you can, but more importantly, focus on what you're GOOD at! I am good at singing and dancing and acting ridiculous with children. So I do that with Elliot...a lot. I don't do crafts with him because it usually results in someone throwing glitter across the room in frustration (hint: I'm not talking about Elliot). If nurse asshole had only affirmed what I WAS doing and that it WOULD be OK, I may have left her office smiling instead of sobbing. When I was tagging along on speech therapy home visits to families of infants and toddlers with special needs, I was taught to always point out what the parents were doing WELL with their little ones, and to build on those great skills while giving additional tools to help with the challenges. And EVERY parent encounters challenges, whether their child qualifies for services or not.
2) Ignore the breastfeeding-nazis (to quote Tina) and the mom-petitors. The more passive aggressive remarks they make about daycare or formula, the greater the hole in their own sense of self. Sad for them, but not your problem. When Elliot was two and I decided to return to graduate school, it was such a relief to meet other moms who worked AND were great moms with happy, well-adjusted children. I finally felt that I had found my niche as a parent. Not to say that there is anything wrong with staying home! Which leads to my next point:
3) Don't define yourself OR other moms by these dumb categories; work vs. stay at home, breastfed vs. formula fed; single child vs. multiple kids; "typically developing" vs "delayed". We are all in this together. Being a mom is just hard. There is no easy way around it. It's hard if you work outside the home or inside the home. Either way, you are ALWAYS WORKING. None of us has it easy, but at the same time, we are all SO fortunate to have the honor of raising these miracle boogers (seriously, they were inside of us! Now they are here! And they have legs! And arms! And tiny little noses! How crazy is that????). I have to make a conscious effort not to compare myself to the other parents who have a 2nd or 3rd child. When people start talking about the ideal spacing of siblings (should you have your kids 2 years apart or 3 years apart?) I think about having another child before you're ready and how that stress can impact the whole family. And then I do my best to leave the conversation and find people without children to talk to.
4) Try not to build up expectations about how it's going to be. That is impossible to avoid, I realize, but just know that it will be different than what you expect, and that really is OK.
5) Unless you are a pediatrician or a healthcare specialist of some sort, please do not start out conversations by asking moms about their child's developmental milestones. In fact, just add milestones to religion and politics on the list of things NOT to bring up in casual conversation.
And on that note, go give your little nugget a big fat squeeze, and then go give yourself a giant pat on the back (or a huge piece of chocolate). You're a good mom! Your kid is alive, loved, fed, and as healthy as you are able to get them. You rock.
