Dear Friends,
The primary purpose of this blog is to record some memories of pregnancy and these early days of parenthood because we've wanted to be intentional about preserving Daniel's story during the times that he can't remember (i.e., conception through early childhood); but it has served a really important secondary purpose for me as well. It has allowed me to get some really great perspective. The feedback I’ve gotten from all of you, both in comments and in e-mails has been so enormously supportive. It’s allowed me to have some dialogues that have given me the perspective I needed to feel totally up for this job. Some of you will see snippets of things I’ve written to you. You helped me to think through these disappointments in a way that I want to remember.
In the hours since I posted my feelings about breastfeeding, I've had a lot of feedback reminding me that we're doing our best, that Daniel has good parents, and that to nurse or not to nurse won't make or break his future. I also had a lot of comforting feedback when I was feeling so stressed out by all the voices telling me that we shouldn't be induced or that we should try to induce using methods I wasn't comfortable with. I hadn't realized that I needed to hear some voices from outside of my own head to counteract the judgments inside my own head. Thanks to all of you who have told us that we are doing great, and for encouraging us to reclaim that we-do-what's-right-for-us attitude that Rhett and I are generally able to pull off. I really do think it's true that we're doing great. I'm completely in love with this child, and even more in love with Rhett than I’ve ever been (which I didn't think was possible). In fact, I have to say that the emotional support we’ve received from all of you may even have been even more important to me than the logistical support we've received (and that's really saying something, because we've been so very supported logistically).
I have read that 70% of women experience baby blues. I have a couple of decent reasons to have baby blues. First is the breastfeeding thing, and second is the major trauma to my body that was childbirth. But I don't have blues at all! I do cry easily - mostly from the loving, warm, and wonderful e-mails I've received, but they are not tears from depression or even lows. Perhaps that will come at some point. But these disappointments are only disappointments. They do not rise to the level of "grief" or “blues” or “depression” and even these disappointments feel so small compared to the enormous joy I have in holding this perfect, healthy boy who has not yet heard the news that his mother and dad might be flawed. I have semi-joked and said that I'm sure we're going to screw this up at some point; after all, I think most well intentioned parents do make some pretty big goofs and have some pretty giant limitations. But I'm pretty sure we haven't done any irreparable damage yet. So far, it’s just too good.
My friend Stephanie made a very important point that continues to resonate with me. The process of preparing for child birth sets us up for the belief that we can control everything from child bearing to child rearing. At conception it’s “if you have sex on the right day you can control whether you get a boy or a girl;” and “start your prenatal vitamins at least three months in advance to make sure you don’t have a kid with certain health problems” and even “would you prefer to conceive in March or April?” Then once you get pregnant the obvious questions are “Is it a boy or a girl?” “Are you going to breastfeed?” “Are you going to deliver at X, Y, or Z?” “Are you planning to have an epidural?” “What name [identity] are you going to give him?” “Will you have him circumcised?” But so much is unknown! Would we even be able to conceive? Would we be able to breastfeed? How could we know if vaginal delivery would work out for us? Would his name come to us quickly or would we need some time to figure that out?
What I can say, though, is that Daniel's birth story was the perfect birth story for him because it was, in fact, HIS story. It needed to accommodate him and his needs. He was either unable or not inclined to come in the way that we imagined he would, but he got to come in the way that was best for him. His debut was his own, and by definition, then, it was perfect.
Thank-you all for helping me stay in touch with the enormously precious experience that these first days have been.
2 comments:
There's got to be some part of you that's happy you didn't push that 10 pound watermelon out your hoo-haa. :)
Absolutely! In large part this is because a friend who is an OB/GYN helped me to get some wonderful perspective. She shared that she'd had a similar birth experience with her first child, and her husband and midwife pressured her to keep pushing and force her son and her body
to comply with a set of values that simply weren't compatible with her own capabilities or her baby's needs. She ultimately had a c-section too, but later than we did, and as a result her son was born in respiratory distress. She also told me some of the things she had witnessed when women chose not to have c-sections in situations like ours. She said
that it would be normal to grieve the labor experience we didn't get
to have, but she was very clear that there was no other decision that would have resulted in less grief, and that waiting any longer than we did would almost certainly have resulted in a great deal more grief. There were a number of ways it could have gone for sweet Daniel, but if we'd been in the wild both he and I might very well have died. Yes, I'm very, very grateful!
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