While pregnant, I remember encountering two distinct categories of women – the hopeless romantic who promised I would love my baby as soon as it popped out; and another who snickered, often half-whispering comments like, “You have no idea what you’re in for.” I remember detesting the latter breed. Why did they have children if they hated being a mother so much?
Now, I know better. I know that parenthood is more complex than those on the outside can imagine. That babies are sometimes not bundles of joy. When someone I know is pregnant, I have two conflicting urges. One, to congratulate her and share in the excitement. The other, to be honest with her – that she too may be blind-sided by this all-encompassing, pressure-filled, life-changing roller-coaster.
Often, I keep these thoughts to myself. Because, although I claim to wish that other mothers would have been brutally honest with me, I wouldn’t have listened. I wouldn’t have believed that a baby might cause tension, rather than closeness in a marriage. Or that I may spend hours crying for no reason. Or that sleep-deprivation could have made me such a grumpy bitch.
Of course, parenthood is one of those things that people need to experience for themselves to truly be able to speak of it. And none of our experiences are going to be identical. Kelly’s post, Welcome to the Club, made me think about all of this. In revealing her personal and less-than-perfect experiences with her babies, and her thoughts on her brother expecting a baby, she spoke of so many things that I, and I’m sure many of you, can relate to.
The childless may assume (like I once did) that women who speak so bluntly about the challenges of parenthood are jaded and ungrateful, but I prefer to see myself (and women like me) as realistic and honest. I love my kids – more than I ever imagined possible. But the truth does not end there. Loving our kids does not make anyone immune from depression or boredom or irritation.
Welcome to the Kingdom of Ambivalence.
Oddly enough, there’s a twist to Kelly’s Perfect Post. She wrote a follow-up stating that she’d unintentionally hurt her brother with her words. This also made me think about how innocuous statements can sometimes be misinterpreted or can paint a less-than-accurate picture. I can remember, like Kelly, being so insecure in those first months. I recall being upset by someone close to me saying of my breastfed baby, “She sure has to eat a lot.” Looking back, I know it was an innocent observation by a bottle-feeding mother who was curious about nursing. At the time though, I was drugged by that dangerous cocktail of sleep-deprivation, anxiety, and hormones. I assumed she was saying I was starving my baby. That I didn’t know what I was doing.
Now I feel bad that I and so many others assumed that Kelly’s brother was one of those childless know-it-alls that we all love to hate. It was obvious from her apology and their dialogue in the comments that he had good intentions. That she mentioned his comment only to highlight her insecurity at the time. And it made me think about how amazing it is that every person interprets each situation so differently. And how our interpretations are shaped by who we are and our emotional state at that moment.
As you can see from my incessant rambling, Kelly’s post was thought-provoking, beautifully written, and deserving of a Perfect Post Award. It truly was one of the best posts I’d read in a long time. (Oh, and Kelly? I hope everything is cleared up with your brother and that you enjoy your new niece/nephew.)
Visit Petroville and Suburban Turmoil to read March’s other Perfect Posts.
It is complicated, being a parent. I like to think I have a healthy mix of thinking my kids are great and thinking my kids will likely send me to a mental institution any day now.
I’m off to read Kelly’s post…
A great post about a great post.
First off, you don’t ramble.
Second, you’re sooooo right. Yet again.
Many thanks Andi. I appreciate the Perfect Post and your insightful comments about the nature of new parenthood and how everyone experiences their own special brand of difficulty.
I think all is cool with my brother. We have a good, open relationship, but, as you know, I can’t help but be upset that however good my intentions, I left him feeling wounded. Hopefully, in time, it will all be looked at it for what it truly was meant to be: a message of love and concern for someone I care deeply for.
Right now I’m the CONGRATULATIONS!! type with baby news and the OH GOD I’LL PRAY FOR YOU!! type with teenagers.
And I do feel bad about the latter. Not all teens are hard to raise. So I’ve been told anyway. I try to stifle the teens-are-evil thing, even if it is my gut reaction.
It’s so funny that you would write this now. I was just admitting to my brother how wrong I was all the years I swore I knew everything there was to know about babies and kids. I thought he was acting as if he were the only one to have ever had a child and was totally disregarding my mad babysitting and camp skills.
Then I had my own baby. And I got it. There is nothing like being a parent. Nothing like the extremes parenthood provides and the only way to truly understand is to go through it yourself.
I like to take the honest approach with parents to-be. It’s usually somethings along of the lines of, ’sometimes you’ll want to hug your child to pieces, and sometimes you’ll want to lock yourself in a closet with earplugs. the hugs will be more frequent than the locked yourself in the closet time, hopefully.’
Parenthood is definitely not something you fully get until you do it yourself. People tell you it is hard, but you don’t understand how hard it can be until you go through those sleepless nights.
I think I appreciated honesty about kids before I had my own. Having said that, you just can’t imagine what it’s like until you have your own and you’re with it every day.
I guess that’s why you hear so many people say that they like to hold other people’s kids cause they can give them back. I find that comment a little annoying cause as Moms, we should know what it’s like to be with someone who completely depends on you for everything with no hope of escape. And really, why can’t we support each other a little bit? In an honest and realistic way, of course.
Better go read that now. But in the meantime, I also tend towards the positive. But everyone I know who’s been pregnant lately has been pregnant with second children, so I can offer a mixed bag of advice without fear of that look that as-yet childless women get when I say things like, “Haha, I almost locked the children in the house and ran away the other day, haha!” They don’t understand that the fact that I stayed is both the point and the punch line. It’s not their fault, they’ll understand soon enough.
It’s interesting to me because when I first wrote Sippy Cups, I thought people would hate it for that exact reason you talk about. I figured they’d think I was just jaded and didn’t love my daughter. It’s so hard to explain to anyone just how imaginably life altering, challenging, frustrating, tear inducing, insecurity-making and actually sad having a new baby can be. And sometime, it even takes awhile to get to the otherside – the “I love my child to pieces side.” Some women don’t even get to feel that part for a little while and that’s scary. I think it’s better to let people know what they may be in for and if we’re wrong about them, then fine. But if we’re right, they may not feel so crazy when they find out how tough it really is. And of course, it goes without saying that even though we are telling them how hard it’s gonna be, we would never change a thing!
This is why more and more, I am trying to say less and less to expectant parents! There is no real advise, it almost always ends up being the infamous ass-vice and you either sound disillusioned and depressed or naive and Pollyanna-ish. From now on, I’m sticking with “congratulations!”
I came here through DGM post your blog thing, and I agree with everything you have posited. I would also be pissy about the gals who told me kid 2 was the devil’s spawn. No, it wasn’t easy, but I hope I never said anything haphazardly so as to squsih the confidence levels of other Moms…It’s hard, but always worth it.
PS Your Dismissal Letter is absolutely hilarious…It’s how I feel right now about my own blob rolling over the cuff and making the muffin top! I feel so un-me!! That was a laugh I surely needed! Thanks!
I used to think those dry-humored moms were bad moms. Until my kids were a little older, that is. Motherhood is everything…good and bad. Sublime and terrible. And it truly is one of those things only understood through experience.
I try to base my advice for the person. One SIL is a worrywart and if she knew all I went through as a mom she would have a panic attack. Others, I feel can handle the “It happened to me, this is what might happen to you.” kind of advice. Of course you ALWAYS should say, “Every child is different.” That can settle some nerves. I often half joke about the worries of the teenager, we were all teenagers and most of us remember what we did, or at least some of it. Great post and no you don’t ramble, I ramble, even in my comments. Sorry.