This month was a special one. June is the month of our wedding anniversary, but that always seems to fall in the shadow of another important day. Two out of our five kids, #1 and #4, share the same birthday. They are exactly 9 years (and 3 hours) apart! While I certainly didn’t plan it that way, especially since #1 was born a full month early, their bond is so special and it’s been such a joy to watch their friendship unfold.
The year #1 turned 13 and I officially became the mother of a teenager was obviously quite the milestone year. I could not wrap my head around the idea of how it was even possible, but I was SO EXCITED. I remember staring the next 5 years square in the face and just being overwhelmed by everything was in store. Well, friends, it has been a mere blink! We are now entering his Senior year of high school and having conversations about him moving out on his own and paying his car insurance and cramming as much “how to adult” life lessons in as I can. It will never be enough! I am not prepared, but I am again so excited to see what happens. I’m not ready, but I know it’s coming so I’m making mentally squeezing out all the sweetness of every little moment. He’s just such a cool dude, you guys.
I was thinking back on my first months with him.
He was born the day I hit 36 weeks pregnant without any warning of coming. He was this teeny tiny little thing. We had some issues with the breastfeeding as his sucking reflex didn’t quite have time to develop, so he hung out right at 5lbs for his first several weeks. We used to dress him up in Build-A-Bear clothes when we needed a good laugh. We called him Wee-Man and all the strangers would stop me to look at the adorable tiny baby held tightly in my trusty ring sling. I was a 20-year-old brand new mom who didn’t know much of anything about full-time baby care. So I did what first-time parents are always encouraged to do… I hit the books!
Well… I hit “A” book. An attachment parenting book. And I took it as the absolute in how to not ruin your child. I did all the things. I breastfed, baby-wore, and bed-shared with the best of them. I believed them when they said this would build an unbreakable bond. A bond so strong that my baby wouldn’t even need to cry because I would know his cues before he ever got to that point. This became the ultimate goal. I could have a cry-less baby!!! All I had to do was wear him all the time, sleep with him on my chest and stare deep into his eyes as he nursed at my breast. DONE!
Then we went to the mall.
I felt totally capable. I had read about all the tools and was obviously more-than-equipped to handle taking my brand new son to a crowded shopping mall for the first time. No sweat! Towards the end of our trip, my tiny, 2-week-old boy (who had of course been safe in his ring sling, nestled close to my chest so our heartbeats could be in perfect sync and his little soul could feel nurtured and protected and known) started to get fussy. In the middle of a mall I had never been to before, I was frantically trying to find an escape. I was mentally running through all the possibilities of what could be wrong with my baby while the sweat of humiliation and the heat of the hundreds of (imaginary) strangers’ stares began to burn my face.
Of course, we had a diaper blowout on our hands. Of course, the unmistakable yellow ooze began to seep through my son’s clothes and my favorite ring sling. Of course, I had no idea where the very public bathroom was. Of course, my son’s fussiness had now become a full-blown baby wail. And of course, that meant that I had already failed as a mom. My baby was crying. I had failed to sense his discomfort. I had failed to recognize his needs. I had failed to keep him comfy and satiated. My baby was crying. In public. And I was not far behind…
I don’t remember actually getting into the bathroom and cleaning up what I now know was simply my inaugural public poop blowout. But I do remember finally getting to our car where my husband was waiting for us. He was so kind as to say something like “I will go get the car while you deal with that…” Classic. And while I don’t remember the exact words I spewed in my husband’s direction while I buckled our baby (now only wearing a diaper) into his carseat, I do know that if baby earmuffs had been a thing then, they probably would’ve come in handy. I was not kind. My face was still on fire. My heart was racing and I was the most overwhelmed I think I had ever been.
Then we got home
I tried to explain to my very confused and insulted husband why I was so upset. “He cried!! I didn’t catch it in time… What if he doesn’t learn to trust me now?” As the words came out of my mouth, the blank stare of “Are you seriously serious right now” on my husband’s face made perfect sense to me. Did I somehow forget that what I was holding so close to me was, in fact, a human baby? Apparently so. Did I forget that I was brand spankin’ new at this whole parenting thing and that there was no way I was going to figure out how to have the only non-crying baby in existence in my first 2 weeks on the job? Obviously! I stared at the book, that just a few hours earlier made me feel so well-equipped to handle this baby thing, with a sense of betrayal. I don’t think I ever read it again. It all seems so silly now, 17 years and 4 additional kids later, but that experience truly did teach me something that I have held onto throughout my parenting journey…
God has given us an innate understanding of our children.
To clarify, books can be very helpful. Other people have been given great wisdom and education and have graciously shared their knowledge with the public and I love them for it. I’m not anti-parenting book in any way. BUT, I also believe that God has placed within us, in the very fibers of our being, an intuition on how to care for our babies. The second we try to step outside of what we feel peace about, we are fighting against what He has given us the grace to do. I am not convinced that every mom has the same instinct, or that we should all have the same parenting “style”. Of course, I have my beliefs on what is healthiest and what practices our culture has adopted that are actually quite harmful. I have strong opinions that have formed after years of experience and research. I am more than happy to share my experiences or things I have found helpful or my reasons for believing a certain method is/is not the best choice, but I am in no way going to tell a new mom who is struggling to find her footing in this scary role that if she does/does not follow a certain way of parenting, she will somehow ruin or eliminate the bond with her child. I hold fast to the belief that I am not entitled to proclaim my strong opinions. My opinions are not gospel.
We are doing our best here
We can only do what we know is being asked of us by the Creator of all Life. Prayerfully navigating the path of motherhood is no easy task in and of itself. Clinging to Jesus, depending on the leading of the Holy Spirit, following the steps of our Good Father… that’s all we can do. If we are truly about loving our babies, it will require self-sacrifice. It will require choosing to trade our own comfort for the benefit of our children. It will require seeking out the wisdom of fellow parents in our community and humbly admitting when we are at a loss. It will require us to rejoice in the fact that when we screw it up, we get to experience grace upon grace upon grace and learn and grow and cherish the journey. It’s a beautiful thing.
I love you all!
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