Evolution of a Mother
Cindy H.
CO USA
From NEW BEGINNINGS, Vol. 18 No. 4, July-August 2001, p. 131-132
I was 36 years old when I
became pregnant with my first child. We had tried for a year to get
pregnant so we were very excited when it finally happened. I always
knew I wanted to be a mother, but had never really considered the details.
Would I work full time or
stay at home? I remember telling my boss that continuing to work would
not be a problem because my husband is a firefighter and he would be
able to be with the baby when I was at work. No day care needed. No
problem.
Would our baby sleep with
us or in a crib? Of course we would use a crib. My only experience with
a "family bed" was a friend who slept with her two daughters, ages seven
and ten. I thought it was weird. We would use a beautiful hand-made
cradle first, then the crib given to us by my sister-in-law. No problem.
Would we bottle-feed or breastfeed?
This was more of a problem. I was very unsure about breastfeeding. I
knew if I did consider it, I would never breastfeed in public. I was
not even comfortable saying the word "breast" out loud. I did realize
that human milk was probably superior to formula. My husband and I had
one of out biggest fights ever because when I said, "I'm not sure,"
he heard, "I won't breastfeed." He was very convinced that breastfeeding
was the best choice for our child.
Parenthood was all very romanticized
in my brain. Sleeping child. Ecstatic mother. Proud papa. Then reality
hit. What kind of diapers should I buy? Cloth or disposable? What kind
of bottles? What color should I paint the nursery? How much of this
baby stuff do we really need to buy? What had I gotten myself into!?
Fast forward to the end of
the pregnancy. The room was painted. Diapers were bought, both disposable
and cloth, in several brands so I could make an informed decision. We
had plenty of bottles. We had more clothes, toys, and baby paraphernalia
than a couple expecting sextuplets. I had even attended a La Leche League
meeting two weeks before because I was determined to breastfeed my baby
in spite of my inhibitions. I had done enough research by now to realize
that human milk was far superior to formula.
By this time, all rosy visions
of pregnancy had disappeared down the toilet. I was just ready to get
this thing over with. It was June 6, and my due date had been June 1.
I was grumpy. I woke up grumpier than usual and on top of that, I felt
rotten. Then I started to realize that I was feeling rotten in fairly
regular waves. My husband likes to tell people that I reminded him of
Jack Nicholson in "The Shining." When it finally sunk in that I might
be in labor, we called the doctor. "Head to the hospital," she said.
The adventure was about to begin.
We had prepared quite thoroughly
for this moment. We had taken childbirth classes. I had bought a small
CD player and collected what I thought would be relaxing music. We had
tennis balls for massage, extra pillows, and a very specific birth plan.
We even purchased a video camera to record the first moments of our
child's life. Everything was packed and off we went. At this point,
I still felt okay at least some of the time. It was about 10:00 in the
morning. My labor had started around 7 Am. I felt lucky to have a full
night's sleep behind me.
At the hospital, we got settled.
I think I was five or six centimeters dilated and 80 percent effaced.
That sounded great. I was almost there. I was still having moments of
minimal discomfort, still thinking how helpful the tennis balls would
be. My husband took a few minutes of video. I appear on the tape threatening
to hurt him if he came near me with the camera. I discussed my birth
plan with the nurse, telling her how important it was to me not to have
any drugs. She was very supportive, saying how unusual it was for first-time
mothers not to request drugs.
Then things started to get
more intense. In my experience, the biggest myth I encountered was the
one where they promise you breaks between contractions. I felt like
I had a three-hour-long contraction. Once it got going, it didn't quit.
We never used the tennis balls and I never heard the music.
When it finally came time
to push, I did. Every time I pushed, the baby played, "now you see me,
now you don't." After that went on for an hour, the doctor asked to
use a vacuum extractor. Now this was something I hadn't done much research
on. But how bad could it be? Nice, soft suction cup, a little bit of
pressure and magic, here comes the baby. Right. It wasn't quite like
that.
But soon, our daughter was
born without any more problems. Then came the moment I had waited years
for, the moment they handed me my baby. My all-consuming thought was
not, "Oh what a beautiful baby," it was "What do I do now!?"
My husband took the baby
and the doctor stitched me up. Then they handed her back to me to nurse.
This was my private moment of panic. I have to do this in public? Never
mind that my most private parts had recently been out in the open for
all to see. This was worse. I still haven't decided if the nurse's comment
about having perfect nipples to nurse made it better or worse. Yes,
I had read every book I could get my hands on about breastfeeding. Yes,
I was familiar with the mechanics of good positioning. I knew how much
of my breast she had to get in her mouth in order to avoid the horrors
of sore nipples. And yes, I was scared to death. But my daughter, my
beautiful baby, Kelly, knew exactly what to do and she nursed for a
full thirty minutes the first hour of her life. It was then that I began
to understand what a wonderful gift I had been given. Thanks to the
support of women I met through La Leche League, I have continued to
breastfeed my now two-year-old daughter. When my husband and I had our
original argument, we discussed my nursing for one year. I wondered
how I would ever make it that long. Now I don't want to quit. I understand
the grief women go through during weaning. I went back to work part-time
about six weeks after she was born and lasted about a month. I am now
a stay-at-home mother and proud of it. She slept in the cradle the first
few months in our room, then we moved her to her crib in a separate
room. That lasted about a week. She now sleeps with us. I owe La Leche
League a debt of gratitude for connecting me with other parents who
support choices like this. Most importantly, I have learned that you
must respect your own intuition where your child is concerned. All the
"experts" in the world can recommend a certain method for child raising,
but if it doesn't feel right to you, it is not right for your child.
La Leche League has given me the courage to explore my own path as a
mother.
As to those initial concerns,
I am now a fervent believer in co-sleeping, extended breastfeeding,
and attachment parenting. Much as I hate to admit it, I'm also a believer
in disposable diapers, although I occasionally have visions of trying
cloth diapers the next time around!
Last updated November 13, 2006 by njb.
Page last edited Sun Oct 14 09:29:33 UTC 2007.
