What does it mean to parent?

I recently listened to a TED talk about expectationsfor parenting and the anxiety they can produce. While I am not sure that I agree with everything the speaker says, I know there is truth in letting go of the expectations of being a perfect parent and believing children are competent and resilient.

At one point, the speaker shares a picture of parenting section at a bookstore, commenting how you can find a never-ending list of books for how to raise a ________ child. I confess I have read many of these books and have many more stored on my fancy new kindle. I know I should probably stop reading them. But how do I stop when my vocation and occupation are all about child development and education? And what about how I find them endlessly fascinating? Aren’t those good reasons to read the books? Isn’t the problem really my expectations of myself rather than the information in and of itself? Or is there something to having too much information? How does that shape our expectations and actions? Is there a healthy balance?

...

I have been looking for ways to work through and reduce my anxiety... yoga, walking, breathing, identifying anxious thoughts before they snowball into my imagined worst-case scenarios. These are helping, but they don’t really address the fear that underlies my anxiety and slight obsession with parenting books. I am terrified of being a bad parent.

If you asked me what I mean by bad parent though, I don’t really have an answer. Is it failing my child in some undefinable way? Is it pushing her too much or too little? Is it not giving her the opportunities she needs? Is it not finding the balance between interdependence and autonomy? (I could go on.)

I think I found the response to all of this on Facebook of all places. A friend with two of the cutest, smartest, sweetest, and feistiest children I know posted something off hand about feeling like a bad parent. She then commented that at the end of the day all she really wanted for her children was for them to be relatively clean, kind to others, and able to think critically.

This made me think. What are our goals for Fiona? What do we want her to know and be and do? I keep feeling that if we have just a few essential goals, then I can have more realistic expectations and I can remember what is most important in the midst of those daily parenting decisions.

But where do we start? I want so much for her. I want so much for us.

I don’t even know its origin (excuse my whole mush brain thing), but I found this list of what children need....

·      Unconditional love and affection

·      Support

·      Respect and acceptance

·      Voice, identity, and agency

·      Consistency

·      Security

I have decided I can get behind this. This allows us the freedom to define what these look like for us and makes me feel like we are meeting her needs. I can have expectations that work for our family and not get distracted by the all of the noise out there.

So, here it is. At the end of the day I want her to know:

·      she is loved and be able to love

·      she has our support and can support others

·      she is deserving of respect and can be respectful of others

·      she has her own, capable voice and can listen to the voices of others

·      she can count on us and be counted on

·      she is safe and can be a safe place for others

It is still a lofty list, but I feel like it is more manageable than a vague notion of the good parent. We won't do it right every day, but we will show up with love and guide her as best we can. 

Mothering

It might be a surprise, but I am not a big holiday person. I like Halloween -mostly for an excuse to play dress up, and I love the Christmas season - because I have an excuse to sing cheesy songs, watch sappy movies, bake cookies, and consume copious amounts of hot chocolate. (Really, I should just live in a musical.)

Now, don't get me wrong. I love hanging out with family, eating yummy foods, and getting/giving presents. Not working is pretty good too. But other than Christmas, I just don't need a lot of holiday hype.

I have mixed feelings when I consider my first Mother's Day. After my daughter, my first thought is for all of the women out there who want to be mothers but aren't. I think about how I felt on Mother's Day after my miscarriage and before I was pregnant with Fiona...desperately wanting a child and not knowing if it would happen.

Or I think about children who have been neglected or abused by their mothers, or those who have lost a mother. I think about the mothers who have lost children and what pain they must feel on this day.

So here I sit, looking at my precious daughter, with grateful tears in my eyes, and wonder about mothering.

I came across this phrase the other day in the book "Daring Greatly": my mothering is bigger than...

The idea is that mothering is bigger than one decision or action. While this thought is extremely comforting to me, the mother who gets unnecessarily anxious about my child's long term development, I think it is incomplete.

Maybe it is the word...
Maybe it is the pressure to be the perfect mother...
Maybe it is the expectation put on women to be mothers even if they can't or don't want to...
Maybe it is me learning to incorporate this new role into my understanding of myself...

I am not sure. But I feel like on this day that we celebrate mothers, that it should really be a celebration of women, of the feminine. A celebration of nurturing and sustenance. A celebration of sacrifice and strength. A celebration of teaching and learning.

So today, I celebrate the connection I have with other women, especially those who have nurtured me through various times of my life and who have already nurtured my daughter. I thank you for all that you have bestowed upon me. I hope to bless others as you have blessed me.

Happy day of mothering to each of you.

Good enough

It was the day that we were to be discharged from the hospital. Fiona was three days old. I had just fed her and sent her back to the nursery for the last time. Will was at work. His mom was on her way to the hospital to help us pack things up and go home. I sat there in the bed in my hospital gown, scared out of my mind to bring our little girl home. At some point while I was waiting, the lady who cleaned my room came in, said "can I give you a blessing?", gave me a little slip of paper, and left. It read:

"Humble yourselves before the Lord and he will lift you up"  (James 4:10; I gave birth at a baptist hospital if you are wondering)

I started bawling.

Two months in and this parenting thing has been the most humbling experience of my life. Even though I try not to, I question almost every parenting decision. All my theories, research, book-reading, philosophies, and advice from parents I trust, get jumbled in my head. And when she is crying and I don't know what to do my heart aches. 

At first, I looked at all of this with a pessmistic attitude, telling myself "I am not a good parent. I am going to harm her in some way."

But I have been working on changing this. 

My therapist tells me to change my expectation to "good enough".

My friends tell me I am doing all the right things and to forget the books. 

My family tells me she is growing and happy and loved. 

A colleague told me that "should" is a four-letter word. 

I have been reading a book called "Daring Greatly" says, "The real question for parents should be 'Are you engaged? Are you paying attention?'

A Teddy Roosevelt speech reads, "It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the (wo)man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again."

So, I am learning to humble myself. Rather than expect perfection, I am learning to expect good enough and know that being fully engaged is actually better for Fiona and our family. I am learning to relax into this new role and look for a new equilibrium (thanks, family systems theory). I am learning to trust others and myself. I am learning to be present in the ups (watching her grow and holding her sleeping on my chest) and downs (her peeing on me at the park and us still going on a walk so that she will take a longer nap). And I am learning to remember that no matter what, we are not alone. 

 

Life with Fi

Fiona will be two months old on Wednesday, and I can finally say that I am starting to enjoy parenting. There are definitely still rough moments and days (I will be really glad when Will no longer has a night class), but the good is outweighing the bad. I thought I would share some of my favorite things about Fi... And yes, some if them are things only a parent could love!

Her expressions:

She has started smiling and has this little smirk that I think will mean trouble one day. My heart melts though when she smirks while I am nursing. She does a one eyebrow raise and an oh expression when she is surprised, and furrows her brows when Will gives her kisses. And she gives us the evil eye when we put her in her car seat. 

Her noises and smells:

I swear she has the smelliest and loudest toots ever. Will and I decided to start playing a game called "was that you or the baby?" Her other noises like her coos and grunts are much cuter and just as funny. She is also the loudest eater ever...she gets this from Will.

Her actions:

She loves kicking, hates tummy time, and thoroughly enjoys staring at lights and windows...like pretty much all babies. Most the time she will fall asleep in the car or stroller, but will fight sleep the rest of the day, ugh! (She does sleep at night, thank goodness!) She also has to have her hands in her face at all times, and will eat her fingers when she's hungry. Oh, and she can now roll to her side!

And her nicknames:

Jazz hands

Tooter

Squirmer

Stinker

Little stuff

And now for the pictures...which is what you wanted in the first place.

Parenting reflections

Random thoughts from 1 month of parenting...

*Major dilemmas - Do I dare move to (get more comfortable, grab a drink/phone/snack, put something on the TV, etc.) when the baby is sleeping?

*It is not pregnancy that ruins the body, it is the newborn stage. My posture has gone to crap and my major workout right now is rocking 8 pounds to sleep. 

*Having your power go out and living in a hotel with a 2 week old is a little crazy and requires lots of patience.

*New luxuries - showering, eating in the kitchen by yourself, rocking chairs, going outside for walks

*Grand inventions - baby swings, breast pumps, pacifiers, supplemental formula, bottles, sleep sacks with zippers, swaddles with velcro

*Thank goodness medical insurance.

*Wow, a family outing now requires a lot of stuff and time.

And, now here are some pictures...

Postpartum

I have never let myself admit it before, but I struggle with depression here and there. I know technically that it does not mean that I am weak, but I like to think that if I do the "right" things that I can control the depression and make myself feel better. I have come through it in the past by distracting myself with activities or people and going to counseling. However, when you have a small human depending upon you and your spouse for her every need, distractions don't work. And when you have major abdominal surgery, you aren't able to use exercise as a release. And when your depression comes in the form of major anxiety about your daughter, sleeping and eating stop.

I have been anxious about everything...it seems my mind will not stop. I worry about each decision we make for our daughter. Is supplementing with formula so I can skip a night feeding bad? Is she sleeping enough? Is she breathing? Am I being a helicopter parent already? Am I over/understimulating her? Why is she fighting sleep so much? And I worry about Will. Is he getting his needs met? How is he balancing work and family? How is he feeling? I wonder about how long it will take for me to get back in shape. I wonder what it will be like when I go back to work. I wonder if we will get into the child care center that we like and how she will do there. And I wonder why, when I can stop all of those worries, my brain starts in with random songs or commerical jingles (I hate all law firms and their attempts to put phone numbers into song).

After several days of only sleeping a few hours, I finally called the doctor. I am now on medication (that I probably should have been on in the first place), getting counseling, and relying on my wonderful friends and family. I am starting to feel more like myself, able to eat, sleep (with the help of medication, breast pumps, and supplemental ), and reminding myself not to worry. As my mother-in-law said, we are meeting Fi's basic needs and that is all we can do right now. And that is enough.

I am still amazed at all parents, especially the really good ones that I know. I am sure it is mostly hormones and sleep deprivation talking, but it is has been the most challenging experience of my life (and will probably continue to be). I can see the rewards shining through though...her funny sounds and expressions, her sweet milk breath on my face, watching Will give her kisses. I am finally looking forward to more (especially whenever she sleeps through the night).

And now we are three

Fair warning...this post involves labor and delivery...in other words loads of fun...

The week between when we were supposed to have our little one and when she actually came was difficult emotionally. I know that everyone was excited that she had flipped and that I wouldn't have to have surgery, but it was a bit of an emotional blow. We both felt like we had been waiting for years for this little one with all of the trouble trying to get pregnant in the first place, losing the first baby, having trouble a second time around, and then waiting the 40 weeks to actually meet her.

At first we both kind of wandered around, half getting things done, not being able to focus. After a few days of that, we both decided that we were just going to act as if we weren't waiting (as best we could). I took really long walks everyday, but other than that ran errands, worked a little, and tried to resume normal life.

We bought tickets to go to a U of M basketball game on Saturday night, and suddenly as I was making dinner before the game, my water broke...soaking my jeans and leaving a big puddle on the floor. We left soon after for the hospital, both excited and nervous for the main event.

But then, our little troublemaker made some more trouble. According to the test the nurses administered (a little strip of paper that tells you if the fluid was amniotic fluid or not), my water had not actually broken. We are still a little unclear on exactly what did happen, but oh well. William and I were both almost in tears thinking they were going to send us home to wait more.

Instead, my doctor decided that we would be admitted and start induction in the morning. I did end up having contractions throughout the evening, but it all really started in the morning. Then doctor even came in and completely broke my water (a crazy uncomfortable experience during the actual procedure and then afterwards when you are constantly dripping/gushing fluid). I had thought that I wanted to be the person who walked around during labor, but all of that liquid kept me in bed. (We ended up watching HGTV through the majority of the contractions....the little luxuries in life.)

Then, another twist... after laboring for about 12 hours, I had still not dilated even though my contractions were 1 to 2 minutes apart and getting extremely intense. So, my doctor decided to do a c-section. I thought I would be okay with that, as it was the original plan anyway, but as they wheeled me into the room and made Will sit outside while they prepared everything, I became incredibly overwhlemed. They ended up giving me extra sedatives so that I was in that weird state of consciousness where I could hear some things happen, but not really make them out and not respond.

A few hours later I came too with William by my side (thank God for him), telling me all about our beautiful daughter.

I will spare everyone the recovery details. Basically, it included pain meds, lots of people checking in, learning to breastfeed in a stupor, being walked to the bathroom, and trying to figure out how to sleep in an uncomfortable bed.

We brough our babe home on Wednesday and are learning each day how to make it on little sleep (with my rollercoaster of hormones) and trying to trust ourselves with parenting decisions. Oh my goodness, this is this hardest thing ever...and yet her little sleeping face makes it all worth it.

So...now we are three...

And a note...basically, I am not going to post here for a while, except maybe a picture or two (and baking is totally out of the question for now...I eat, feed, sometimes shower, change diapers, cuddle, and occassionally sleep...this is my plan for the next 8 weeks and probably longer). Thanks to everyone for the support through the pregnancy and our first week. Keep it coming please!!