During the last hour of many of our childbirth classes, we instructors divide the room into pregnant moms on one side of the room, partners on the other. Each group makes a list in answer to the question: “How will your life change when you have a baby?” One of the reasons we take the time to do this exercise is that parenthood, like marriage, is romanticized. If you only paid attention to the commercials, you would think that the first six weeks of your baby’s life is all sweet and snuggly and powdery smelling. And yes, if you ask most people who have been there, they will tell you it is all of those incredible things – most parents report feeling a love unmatched by anything they’ve ever felt.
But those same parents often admit that there are intense emotional and physical challenges that come with the transition. One of my clients said it best: “You need to be serious with your classes when you’re talking about postpartum– remind people that sleep deprivation is used as a form of torture in some settings.”
Part of my responsibility as a childbirth instructor is giving parents permission to feel whatever they feel in the first years of their children’s lives – the sublime, the frustrated, the exhausted, the grateful, and everything in between. No pressure to have it be like the magazines! I remember well the stark contrast between the postpartum period I envisioned as a first-time mom (sweet, quiet, slow-paced, full of joy) and the one I actually experienced when my son was born (completely in love with him and full of profound gratitude, also often anxious, overtired, and at a loss for how to soothe him when he was crying).
So I’ve always felt lucky when I’ve found authors who are brutally honest about their experiences of new parenthood. Anne Lamott’s Operating Instructions is one such book. And I just read another – Bad Mother: A Chronicle of Maternal Crimes, Minor Calamities, and Occasional Moments of Grace, by Ayelet Waldman. Waldman’s main premise is that it is all too easy in today’s society to feel like a bad mother, to question your parenting decisions, and those of others. She points out that media and the internet make this even easier, offering ready forums for people to judge each other anonymously.
I am reminded of a time on a local moms’ listserv when a woman was chastised for getting hit by a car (while pushing a baby stroller) in a crosswalk, as though it was her fault for crossing the street. The internet can be an incredible resource for new parents, but there is also the danger that other peoples’ passionate opinions will make you question your own. I tell my childbirth classes to take every (often unsolicited) opinion offered to them with a grain of salt. Pregnancy is a good time to practice making choices that you determine are best for your family. Period.
When Ayelet asked women their definitions of “a good mother”, they almost always gave descriptions that were logistically impossible for humans to attain – one of my favorites: “‘She remembers to serve fruit at breakfast, is always cheerful and never yells, manages not to project her own neuroses and inadequacies onto her children, is an active and beloved community volunteer; she remembers to make playmates, her children’s clothes fit, and she does art projects with them and enjoys all their games. And she is never too tired for sex.’” Get real!
And while most of us real-life mothers would find that definition comical, most mothers I know are trying to measure up to some unattainable standard for how mothers should be that we’ve somehow gotten into our heads. We worry that we work too much, or not enough. We question our decisions to get an epidural, have a natural childbirth, cosleep, or Ferberize. We read baby magazines that chastise us for wearing sweatpants and a ponytail, and we wonder why we don’t feel more energy for our children or our partners. Waldman is eloquent in her description of the expectations that so many of us have to surrender in order to just live in the moment, parent the best we can, and accept that there’s no such thing as perfection.
That goes for our children as well– though mothers are often the ones blamed when their children have tantrums, underachieve, or don’t measure up. I still remember a friend’s initial response when my son’s preschool teachers questioned whether he had some sensory issues: “Y’know, you’re just so busy…” As if my schedule was part of the cause.
I tell pregnant parents that if they have sweet little quiet angel babies who hardly ever cry, they should feel free to take credit for it, but if their babies cry more than they expect them too, well, then they are in the majority of new parents. They can practice reminding themselves that there’s only so much over which they have control. Waldman has a brilliant chapter on our expectations that our children are going to be at the top of their class– remember the bell curve, she cautions. Which reminds me of another incredible author, Richard Weissboard, who wrote The Parents We Mean to Be: How Well Intentioned Adults Undermine their Children’s Moral Development. He has a whole section on the overfocus on children’s achievement. But that is a different blog entry…
So during the beginning of your child’s life, when you find yourself judging yourself or others, or questioning your parenting decisions, take a deep breath and read Bad Mother, poignantly written and brutally honest. Most of us are making our way, doing our best, and it is not always graceful. But even though this blog entry didn’t focus on the rewards, they will speak for themselves. I promise.
Jennifer Averill
Isis Childbirth Educator
If you’ve been following my blog posts, you may remember that a couple of weeks back I wrote about my desire to lose my baby weight and how I was motivated by the simple words of wisdom shared with me by my hairdresser. Per her suggestions, I have not deprived myself but have cut way back on breads and sugars. Without having even introduced exercise into the equation, I have lost about five pounds.