...The Baby Blues...
Earlier this evening, one of my friends (the lovely Heather B.) and her husband came over to bring us dinner - something that any new mother can assure you is like being the recipient of manna from Heaven. As we were visiting, Heather asked me what the most surprising part of being a mother (thus far) has been. My on-the-spot answer was how hard it is to get simple things like eating or brushing my teeth done on a daily basis (which is true - I am surprised that I, a once clean individual, probably have the rankest breath in the land now); however, I've been thinking about it for a few hours, and I've come up with a better answer that has proven to be a huge realization. The most surprising part of Motherhood, for me, has been the wracking guilt that comes with it.
For the past two weeks, I have reveled in my daughter's baby noises, her steely blue eyes, the stinky sweet smell of her hair, the perfect curve of her cupid's bow lips, and 99.9% of the other things she's done thus far. I adore her...but I expected that. I knew I was done for from the moment I saw that second line on the pregnancy test over Thanksgiving Break last year. Finished. Over. Stick a fork in me because I'm head over heels. What I didn't expect, however, was how inexplicably guilty I feel over the majority of things I've done since she arrived.
I should've seen this coming. I am a chronic worrier, a silent stresser. Because of things I've experienced for the greater part of my life, I live in constant fear of the next bad thing on the horizon. I've struggled with this fear since childhood, and I am slowly learning to let it go because God has always...always...come through for me. Despite this fact, it is hard for me to relinquish control of anything significant in my life without some shred of panic presenting itself. Becoming a mother has put this tendency into overdrive. When I was pregnant, I read Blue Nights by one of my absolute favorite authors, Joan Didion. Blue Nights is a beautiful hybrid of sorts - it combines memoir and essay - that explores Didion's feelings/relationship/thoughts regarding her daughter Quintana. The book is made even more poignant when the reader realizes that Quintana is dead. Didion lost her husband and only daughter in close chronologic proximity. Her daughter suffered a stroke in her thirties and eventually succumbed to complications while her husband dropped dead of a heart attack during the ordeal. (Her penultimate book, The Year of Magical Thinking, details these events and is also excellent if you're interested in a thought-provoking read.) I distinctly remember one line in Blue Nights: "After Quintana arrived there was never a time when I was not afraid." I think all parents can identify with this. Surely, some have learned to cope with this fear more effectively than others, but we all know this fear whether our children are newborns or have children of their own.
One of the things that I detest about our society is how there are so many facets and factions within that prey or capitalize upon fear. Watch the news or Dr. Oz or Dateline or any of the twenty other similar programs; read the paper, a magazine, a billboard; simply look around your house at all the warning labels that abound on simple household products. The amount of times you can be alarmed in a day is...well...alarming. As the sector of society with (arguably on some accounts) the most to lose, Moms are particularly vulnerable to this fear mongering. With the cultivation of fear comes the reaping of guilt (which can actually prove lucrative to many businesses/industries). Think about it. Let's take...oh, I don't know...BPA as an example. BPA or Bisphenol A is a hot topic at the moment. Anyone who has ever eaten food out of a can or plastic container in the past 40 years (i.e. everyone) has been exposed to BPA. BPA is a chemical that has recently been found to possibly cause cancer in humans. Let's add that to the ever-expanding list of "Things That Probably Cause Cancer" (i.e. everything). Since this chemical could be harmful, there are now lots of products for baby that are BPA-Free. Of course, there are lots of things on the market for baby that are not BPA free. So as a mother should I ban all plastic from the house if it's not BPA free? Am I a bad mother if I don't? According to some people, yes. And there it is. "Bad Mother"- the term that encompasses/summarizes/embodies the guilt that I (and many others) feel.
One of the many things I've been struggling with is Breastfeeding. I would love nothing more than to be one of those mothers who is able to successfully nurse her child for months on end. When I was pregnant, I planned on being one of those mothers. In reality, I will almost certainly never be one. Everyone tells you that Breastfeeding isn't easy, but it's so much better for baby that the struggle is worth it. From Day One, Lucy and I have struggled. My milk took five days to come in, and in that time period my child lost almost a pound, and I had to supplement her with formula to keep her from starving. When I first put the bottle of formula into the mouth of my purple, screaming, stiff infant and felt her instantly calm and relax, I was simultaneously relieved and heartbroken. I now knew what the problem was, but I had to realize that I and my inadequacy were the problem. When my milk finally did come in, Lucy was relentless to the point of drawing blood at each feeding. She would be satisfied for five minutes, then scream and flail and go stiff when there was a lull in supply. It has been two weeks of stress and turmoil for both of us, and I have been bottle feeding her more and more. I am happy that I know exactly how much nourishment my child is getting, and she seems to be much more content now that she is getting a full tummy, but I cannot shake the nagging guilt that I am a bad mother for throwing in the towel on breastfeeding and giving my baby formula. It's completely irrational, I know. Plenty of successful, grown adults (myself and my husband included) were exclusively formula fed. I never had a single ear infection, chronic digestive problem, or allergy during childhood (which the fearmongers dangle in front of formula-feeding mommies as probable (not possible) side effects of depriving your baby of breast milk). I feel guilt over this so acutely that I have shed tears numerous times when thinking about it. On the other hand, it also makes me angry.
Why do mothers have to bear the brunt of society's guilt? The saying is, "The hand that rocks the cradle, rules the world," not carries the weight of the world, but perhaps that's more appropriate. Planning on going back to work? Bad Mother. Putting your child in daycare? Bad Mother. Let your baby sleep on her stomach? Bad Mother. Give your child anything but organic produce? Bad Mother. Let your child watch non-educational T.V. (or any T.V. at all)? Bad Mother. Do you see where I'm going with this? I could use the remainder of my word allotment on this blog posting to continue listing all the things that make someone a "Bad Mother" and still not be finished. It's maddening and exhausting! In the end, all mothers have to do what is best for themselves and their children. What's right for me is probably not the best option for someone else...and that's okay. Instead of often turning mothers against each other, I wish that our society more often encouraged mothers to support one another. We all want the same things for our children regardless of how we choose to feed them or clothe them or school them. Why waste precious time and fleeting moments worried and guilty over the aforementioned choices? I am oh so very new at this whole motherhood thing, but I think I'm doing an okay job...BPA or no BPA...Breast or no Breast...and I vow to reserve any judgement against another mother because...let's face it...most of us already judge ourselves more harshly than any outsider ever would.
For the past two weeks, I have reveled in my daughter's baby noises, her steely blue eyes, the stinky sweet smell of her hair, the perfect curve of her cupid's bow lips, and 99.9% of the other things she's done thus far. I adore her...but I expected that. I knew I was done for from the moment I saw that second line on the pregnancy test over Thanksgiving Break last year. Finished. Over. Stick a fork in me because I'm head over heels. What I didn't expect, however, was how inexplicably guilty I feel over the majority of things I've done since she arrived.
I should've seen this coming. I am a chronic worrier, a silent stresser. Because of things I've experienced for the greater part of my life, I live in constant fear of the next bad thing on the horizon. I've struggled with this fear since childhood, and I am slowly learning to let it go because God has always...always...come through for me. Despite this fact, it is hard for me to relinquish control of anything significant in my life without some shred of panic presenting itself. Becoming a mother has put this tendency into overdrive. When I was pregnant, I read Blue Nights by one of my absolute favorite authors, Joan Didion. Blue Nights is a beautiful hybrid of sorts - it combines memoir and essay - that explores Didion's feelings/relationship/thoughts regarding her daughter Quintana. The book is made even more poignant when the reader realizes that Quintana is dead. Didion lost her husband and only daughter in close chronologic proximity. Her daughter suffered a stroke in her thirties and eventually succumbed to complications while her husband dropped dead of a heart attack during the ordeal. (Her penultimate book, The Year of Magical Thinking, details these events and is also excellent if you're interested in a thought-provoking read.) I distinctly remember one line in Blue Nights: "After Quintana arrived there was never a time when I was not afraid." I think all parents can identify with this. Surely, some have learned to cope with this fear more effectively than others, but we all know this fear whether our children are newborns or have children of their own.
One of the things that I detest about our society is how there are so many facets and factions within that prey or capitalize upon fear. Watch the news or Dr. Oz or Dateline or any of the twenty other similar programs; read the paper, a magazine, a billboard; simply look around your house at all the warning labels that abound on simple household products. The amount of times you can be alarmed in a day is...well...alarming. As the sector of society with (arguably on some accounts) the most to lose, Moms are particularly vulnerable to this fear mongering. With the cultivation of fear comes the reaping of guilt (which can actually prove lucrative to many businesses/industries). Think about it. Let's take...oh, I don't know...BPA as an example. BPA or Bisphenol A is a hot topic at the moment. Anyone who has ever eaten food out of a can or plastic container in the past 40 years (i.e. everyone) has been exposed to BPA. BPA is a chemical that has recently been found to possibly cause cancer in humans. Let's add that to the ever-expanding list of "Things That Probably Cause Cancer" (i.e. everything). Since this chemical could be harmful, there are now lots of products for baby that are BPA-Free. Of course, there are lots of things on the market for baby that are not BPA free. So as a mother should I ban all plastic from the house if it's not BPA free? Am I a bad mother if I don't? According to some people, yes. And there it is. "Bad Mother"- the term that encompasses/summarizes/embodies the guilt that I (and many others) feel.
One of the many things I've been struggling with is Breastfeeding. I would love nothing more than to be one of those mothers who is able to successfully nurse her child for months on end. When I was pregnant, I planned on being one of those mothers. In reality, I will almost certainly never be one. Everyone tells you that Breastfeeding isn't easy, but it's so much better for baby that the struggle is worth it. From Day One, Lucy and I have struggled. My milk took five days to come in, and in that time period my child lost almost a pound, and I had to supplement her with formula to keep her from starving. When I first put the bottle of formula into the mouth of my purple, screaming, stiff infant and felt her instantly calm and relax, I was simultaneously relieved and heartbroken. I now knew what the problem was, but I had to realize that I and my inadequacy were the problem. When my milk finally did come in, Lucy was relentless to the point of drawing blood at each feeding. She would be satisfied for five minutes, then scream and flail and go stiff when there was a lull in supply. It has been two weeks of stress and turmoil for both of us, and I have been bottle feeding her more and more. I am happy that I know exactly how much nourishment my child is getting, and she seems to be much more content now that she is getting a full tummy, but I cannot shake the nagging guilt that I am a bad mother for throwing in the towel on breastfeeding and giving my baby formula. It's completely irrational, I know. Plenty of successful, grown adults (myself and my husband included) were exclusively formula fed. I never had a single ear infection, chronic digestive problem, or allergy during childhood (which the fearmongers dangle in front of formula-feeding mommies as probable (not possible) side effects of depriving your baby of breast milk). I feel guilt over this so acutely that I have shed tears numerous times when thinking about it. On the other hand, it also makes me angry.
Why do mothers have to bear the brunt of society's guilt? The saying is, "The hand that rocks the cradle, rules the world," not carries the weight of the world, but perhaps that's more appropriate. Planning on going back to work? Bad Mother. Putting your child in daycare? Bad Mother. Let your baby sleep on her stomach? Bad Mother. Give your child anything but organic produce? Bad Mother. Let your child watch non-educational T.V. (or any T.V. at all)? Bad Mother. Do you see where I'm going with this? I could use the remainder of my word allotment on this blog posting to continue listing all the things that make someone a "Bad Mother" and still not be finished. It's maddening and exhausting! In the end, all mothers have to do what is best for themselves and their children. What's right for me is probably not the best option for someone else...and that's okay. Instead of often turning mothers against each other, I wish that our society more often encouraged mothers to support one another. We all want the same things for our children regardless of how we choose to feed them or clothe them or school them. Why waste precious time and fleeting moments worried and guilty over the aforementioned choices? I am oh so very new at this whole motherhood thing, but I think I'm doing an okay job...BPA or no BPA...Breast or no Breast...and I vow to reserve any judgement against another mother because...let's face it...most of us already judge ourselves more harshly than any outsider ever would.
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