12 posts tagged “motherhood”
Please share with us your expectations for giving birth if you are currently pregnant and how your expectations were or were not met if you are already a mother. And for those of you with multiple children or who may be pregnant with a second child, please share how your expectations have varied from pregnancy to pregnancy.
I think I was among the delusional when it came to childbirth. In fact, I'm certain of it.
First of all, my son arrived far earlier than I anticipated. Three weeks, to be precise. I went to the doctor for my routine 36-week check up, only to be told that I was four centimeters dilated and 80% effaced. When just the day before I carefully planned out my week to tidy up all my loose ends in the event the baby came the following week, I was suddenly on maternity leave and urged not to stray too far from my house.
Oh, bother. I would hardly consider this good use of my maternity leave!
The morning following my 36-week check up, I felt the pangs of early labor. Surely my son will come now, I thought. But, alas, no. He was just testing me. After returning home from my second trip to triage, I was disappointed that he was stalling.
Late that evening, my labor (finally) progressed further. I'd like to think it was the chocolate ice cream that spurred it along. At any rate, we went back to the hospital, and, once again, I lay in triage for what seemed like an eternity, ever so fearful they would send me home once again. But, they didn't - and once I was admitted, I thought the baby would come very soon afterwards.
Boy, was I wrong. But after reading others' birth stories, I think I was among the luckier ones. I just wasn't as lucky as I would have liked to be.
Because I made it to four centimeters and 80% without knowing it, I honestly thought labor couldn't possibly be all that bad. And when a nurse came to my bedside and asked me if I wanted something to ease the pain, I initially refused, caving only a moment later when another contraction assaulted me. I was adamant, though: I did not want an epidural. And, so, I didn't have one. I had Nubain instead, which sent me into an opium-induced state of delirium. Oddly, Nubain is given to lots of women in early labor and is often ineffective for women in advanced labor (as I was), but it did the trick. I only asked for one refill, and that was it.
Thirty hours after the onset of early labor, ten hours after arriving at the hospital, eight hours after being admitted, three contractions and six good pushes later, I heard my son for the first time... and was strangely disappointed at the anticlimax of childbirth. I've no idea what I was expecting to feel, but I knew I didn't feel it. I peered down at the miracle of my messy, still unnamed son and, though relieved to be done with labor and elated that he was perfectly made with all ten fingers and all ten toes, I was just so unbelievably tired. And when the nurses gave him to me to nurse right away and he didn't want to latch on, I felt awful - all my expectations of being a "good" mother were already fading away before my eyes. (Mind you, he didn't completely figure out business of latching on until the next morning, but I had far more calls to the nurses' station than I thought I might.)
I laugh now at my naivete, how I believed that watching my nieces grow, talking to all my mom friends, and reading everything I could about motherhood while I was pregnant would somehow prepare me for the onslaught of mothering. Nothing can prepare you for motherhood, I've discovered. And just when I think I've figured out what my son needs, wants, and expects of me, he immediately changes the rules and I'm back to square one.
And yet, I would do it all again, with no hesitation.
I was trying desperately to get some rest. I had been up since 3:30 with the onset of early labor, I had washed all the baby's clothes and was already sent home from the hospital with instructions to not call again until the contractions were five minutes apart for more than two hours. And I could not, for the life of me, find a comfortable position.
In less than 23 hours, though, I would be holding my son for the very first time. And life, as I knew it, would never be the same.
L is a really nice lady whose son, J, is in Baby C's class at day care. He's about 4 months old, I think, and he's really quite sweet. (I think all babies are sweet, though.)
Anyway, this morning, L and I dropped off our boys at the same time, and she was watching me put Baby C's stuff away and exclaimed, "I love how you label everything!" (I have a label maker at home, one that I've had for years and years now.)
"Thanks," I said. "I'm admittedly a little neurotic about labeling all his stuff."
"I'm going to do that with all of J's stuff," she said. "I love looking at all of Baby C's things because they're so perfectly organized."
I finished putting the last of Baby C's food and milk in the refrigerator and stood up. "Oh, thank you! I try."
She continued, "I told my husband all about you and Baby C, and I told him I want to do everything for J that you do for your little boy!"
Oh dear God.
I know (think?) she means it as a compliment, so I will take it as such. But I think I'm freakishly obsessive about all of Baby C's stuff - from what he owns to what he ingests - and I don't necessarily think I'm a good role model.
But a compliment is a compliment, right? Maybe this means I'm really not such a terrible mother...
Haiku time!!!
Compose a haiku about motherhood or mama-to-be-hood.
I have two to share:
Why the lack of sleep?
Coughing little baby boy
Keeps us up at night
One more thing to do
Sweet boy slumbering so still
Left toys to pick up
So, my old roommate e-mailed a whole group of people, myself included, with the following news:
Wanted to share some exciting news with you all.
J and I are expecting!!
Attached are some pictures of our ultrasoud today. It was a screening ultrasound, not one to find out girl or boy, that is later in March. I am 13 weeks and 1 day today with my due date as August 6.
K is very excited about being a big sister.
Hope all is well with you all. Talk to you again soon!
I'm very excited for her. How can you not be excited when there's a new baby coming? But you know what's really odd?
There's a part of me that feels a little jealous. It's a weird thing. I already have my little one (and I even had my baby more than a year before she will have hers, so I know I'm not feeling jealous for any competitive reasons), but I can't shake this weird feeling.
I just really enjoyed being pregnant. And I really enjoy my little boy.
But I think it's normal. My neighbor at work told me that I can expect this feeling for the rest of my life. Even after Baby C is grown with children of his own, she said, I will still look upon newly expecting mothers-to-be - especially first-time mothers-to-be - and feel a strange twinge of jealousy.
And at the same time, I'll snicker silently knowing that everything that life will never go exactly as planned ever again.
If you are a mother and have not read this book, please please do yourself a favor and read it. Hell, if you're a father and haven't read it, you ought to read it. And if you're expecting a child or ever hope to have any offspring, you should still read it.
To say that it's funny would be a gross understatement.
To say that I laughed out loud so many times and fought hard to keep back tears would be a gross understatement.
To say that this is one of the funniest things I have ever read would be a gross understatement.
It's just something that you need to experience yourself.
Now, in fairness, it's not just a funny book. In fact, I found a quote within its pages that I plan on posting on my wall and committing to memory:
Something about being a mother makes you put your kid before all else. But the truth is, too much of that and the kid isn't getting what she needs most, which is you. Sometimes, the trick is figuring out how to put yourself first so there's something for the kid's needs to be carried on.
Elizabeth Soutter Schwarzer's anecdotes are hilariously funny but also poignant and sweet. There's a story about a trip to the beach where her daughter let go of a kite and was devastated by its loss. She also talks about having terrible morning sickness and her feelings of inadequacies in caring for her daughter when she was too weak to care for herself.
There's a lot within these pages that I know I can look forward to experiencing for myself, and that's a big part of the reason it's so enjoyable. And I'm really hoping that she'll release a sequel!
The first book I've read since Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows also happened to be a parenting book, or, rather, a book to help me through some of my daily struggles with being a mom. Its pages are full of funny anecdotes and advice on how to not feel guilty about working outside the home.
The authors, Beth Feldman and Yvette Corporon, both work in the entertainment industry and chose different paths in approaching their careers once motherhood beckoned. Both chose to further their careers, but it was the ways in which they did so that differed.
One of the funniest things that showed the differences between the authors was their approaches to serving food. Beth, for example, says, "I don't do cupcakes," and goes on to write about bringing Dunkin Donuts Munchkins to her son's bake sale. Yvette, on the other hand, says she cooks out of guilt, as if elaborately planned and executed meals and dinner parties make up for the time she spends away from her kids. (The chapters on food also have recipes, including a chicken tenders breaded with whole wheat panko. I'm anxious to try that one.)
My one gripe, though, is that the book assumes that the reader can easily adapt her schedule to work from home at least part of the time... which isn't always possible. Sadly, I think companies that understand the value of telecommuting employees are in the minority, at least in this state where I live. (Ironically, I would probably do more work, not less, if I were working from home, especially since I spend a good part of my days waiting for things that don't post until the late afternoon... right before I need to go home.) It also assumes that the reader works in an office (which I do, but which many moms do not) and has a fairly predictable schedule.
There are a lot of moments in this book that made me laugh out loud, though. I could relate to a number of things they discussed, and some I can just imagine are coming my way as Baby C gets older. But I'll have to say that the book was a wonderfully funny and fresh perspective on how to juggle being a wife and mother who works outside the home.
My mother used to tell my sister and me that she went to work to rest. I never believed it or understood it; after all, how can you possibly rest at work? It defies all laws of biology, physics, and common sense!
But I understand what she meant now.
It's not that she had an easy job. Or easy jobs, as she kept a part-time job (for fun!) on top of her full-time gig (and taught at our church on Saturday mornings). But there were lots of times she would come home to a cranky husband and two girls fighting over who stole whose Guess? shirt out of whose clean laundry pile.
I reflect on it now and wonder how it was my mother was able to keep her cool.
Work was her refuge, as it's becoming mine. When I'm at work, I can plan out the next week's menus (which I'm actually trying to do, since my poor husband has done almost all the cooking since the baby was seven weeks old), write out shopping lists, pay bills, balance my checkbook, and correspond with friends. At work, my days are disciplined, organized, and comparatively easy to navigate. I have daily To Do and Must Do lists, and I'm not struggling to simultaneously entertain and soothe a 5-month-old while I cross things off my list. As many interruptions as I may get at work (and I do get quite a few of them), they are nothing compared to the baby's interruptions when I'm trying to do something as simple and banal as folding laundry. (In fact, I still have a basket left over from the Saturday, only half of which has been successfully put away!)
I think this largely explains why I am in such awe of stay-at-home mothers. Not only do I lack the imagination and creativity to keep my baby entertained, I need a certain degree of structure in my daily routines to keep myself sane.
So, I get it now. It took me several years and having a child of my own to finally understand how it was possible that my mother rested while at work. Work is, comparatively, my easier job. The benefits aren't as great as my motherhood job (how can you possibly top hearing your baby's giggles and coos and watching him grow from a tiny baby to a little boy?), and I don't have as much satisfaction (the house isn't as clean as I'd like it to be), but at least it pays well.
One year ago today, I knew for sure that Baby C was coming. In fact, one year ago today I had already started calling him "Baby C", but I didn't know he would be a "he". "Baby C" really refered to the unknown being residing in my belly and already zapping me of all nutrients and energy.
It's nice to know some things haven't changed.
More importantly, though, it's been a year since I knew my life as I knew it was going to change dramatically. I just never fully understood how dramatically. You think you know what's involved in being a mother, in bringing a new life into the world, in being fully responsible for another being's existence. Then, a few short months later (extremely short months that also seem to drag on and on - until they're over and you wonder where they went), you hear your baby's first cry and wonder, "Am I ready for this?"
That's a trick question, by the way. The answer, I've discovered, is both "Yes" and "No."
So, for one year, now, I've knowingly been responsible for someone other than myself. For one year, I've taken better care of my body than I ever have (and, come to think of it, I really ought to continue this). For one year, I've nurtured my little Baby C to the best of my ability. And in the past year, I think I've been to the doctor more times than I had in all of the 1990s.
I spent this anniversary in bed, nursing a flu-like bug that Baby C, my ever so generous boy, lovingly passed to me. It's very different from how I spent the evening last year, when I lay in bed with my husband, poking my still-flat belly, and wondering what kind of a mother I would be. Now, a year later, I miss my still-flat belly, but I know what kind of mother I am (or, at least, I think I do).
It's been one whole year since I started taking care of my little boy - one whole year since it's no longer been about me. If you asked me last year what I thought my life would be like today, I don't know what I would have said. But if I could pass a message to myself last year, I'd tell myself to relax, slow down, and enjoy being able to take a shower whenever I wanted without worrying about how long it would take the baby to realize I've left the room.
Oh, and I'd tell myself to start babyproofing right away. :-)
