Finding my voice

No, I'm not going to tell you all about how BabyB-B loves my renditions of "Twinkle, Twinkle" (although she does).  I'm talking about finding my voice when faced with unwanted advice and opinions and some not so helpful comments.

When I fell pregnant I really was not prepared for the advice, opinions and comments I would receive from just about anybody that I encountered.  The quickest way to irritate me was to try to guess the sex of the baby based on how I was carrying, the pallor of my skin and even the size of my rear end!  It drove me crazy.  I remember explaining to my mother-in-law that it is not appropriate to comment on a pregnant woman's size.  Ever.  Even if you think you are giving a compliment.


I naïvely thought things would get better once I had the baby.  Oh how wrong I was.  It turns out that the advice, opinions and comments you are freely giving while you are pregnant are just the warm up for the barrage you receive from the minute your baby leaves the confines of your uterus.  Everybody has something to say.  Most of the time the advice is well meaning.  Often times the comments are intended to be harmless.  The opinions, well, everybody's got one.  

In those first few weeks of motherhood I sat stunned while advice was offered on everything from my nipples to the content of BabyB-B's nappies.  I tried to take it all in, digest it, follow it all.  After all, these people knew what they were talking about.  They were mothers themselves (they often reminded me of this with a comment along the lines of "it worked for me and my kids came out alright") so of course they knew what they were talking about.

The most difficult thing about being a first time mother is learning to trust yourself, to trust your intuition and to trust that you know your baby best.  In the first few weeks and months I tended to think just about everybody else knew better.  This wasn't helped by tentacles of PND which caused me to doubt just about every thought I had.  I questioned everything I did despite DaddyB-B assuring me that I knew best.

However, there came a point when the fog cleared.  I finally felt the seeds confidence planting themselves.  I was no longer happy to sit there meekly taking in all the advice and opinions offered to me.  So instead of removing her cardigan when I was told by a female relative that BabyB-B was too hot I responded that BabyB-B was fine and not affected by her menopausal hot flush.  Rather than feel chastened when told by an acquaintance that BabyB-B really should be sleeping longer during the day and in her own cot I responded that BabyB-B sleeps as much as she needs and that attachment style parenting is finding more and more favour these days.  

I can battle the advice and opinions head on.  When I don't agree with what is offered the litigator in me often comes out and I happily enter into hearty and, I hope, respectful debate. It is the comments that still get to me.  Some of the comments aren't so well meaning and I haven't worked out how to respond to them.  They are often couched in condescension.  My efforts are met with comments along the lines of, "Just wait until she hits the terrible twos" or "It's easy now, while you only have one child, wait until you have another".

Then there are the comments that touch on my mental health.  These really get me.  There is usually some reference to how I am (or am not) "coping".  My Parent Support Unit nurse put it really well, "It seems some people aren't willing to let you heal and move on from this."

The discovery of my mothering confidence seems to have made some people uncomfortable, it saddens me that they can't just be happy for me and accept that doing things our way works for us.  I have found my voice when it comes to unwanted advice and opinions so I'm sure I will find it in relation to such comments too.

I have always been quite open about my PND.  However, I will not be defined by it.  I hoped that by addressing it and speaking about it other mothers will know that it is ok and not the taboo it may once have been.

When People Know Better

I'm a first time mum.  I have my "L" plates on.  I've never done this before, but I'm trying to do my best.  I don't take any of the parenting decisions that DaddyB-B and I have made lightly.  In fact, I've usually spent many hours labouring over most of them.  I don't expect everybody to agree with the decisions we have made, but I do expect people to respect them.  Even the mummy who knows better.

I thought most people were aware of the parenting style we have adopted.  In particular I thought our views on controlled crying/crying it out were pretty clear.  I've lost count of the number of times over the last seven months I have said that we do not leave BabyB-B to cry.  Recent events suggest to me that we have not been clear enough on this issue.

A couple of weeks ago DaddyB-B and I had a party to go to.  The invitation stipulated that babysitters were a must.  The thought of going out without BabyB-B filled me with some (ok, a lot of) anxiety.  It just was not sitting well with me.  However, DaddyB-B is keen for me to get used to the idea of leaving her in short bursts before I have to return to paid work next year.  So we enlisted a babysitter we know loves and cares for BabyB-B to sit with her while we were out.

I fed BabyB-B to sleep before we left for the party and settled her in to her cot.  I came out in to the lounge room and explained to the babysitter that there was a bottle of expressed milk on the counter that could be given to BabyB-B in her sippy cup should she wake while we were out.  DaddyB-B told me he had already explained everything so I didn't go in to anything further other than to say there was no need to heat the milk as room temperature was fine.  And so we left for the party.

It got to 10pm and I started to get quite antsy.  Although we had left milk for BabyB-B I much preferred to be home for her feed.  She doesn't take a bottle and we hadn't tried the sippy cup with milk before.  We'd had a great time hanging out with our friends in full Star Wars regalia (did I mention there was a theme?), but it was getting late!  We said our "goodbyes" and made our way home.

While DaddyB-B was parking the car in the garage I made my way to the front door of our building.  I could hear crying and knew immediately it was BabyB-B.  I impatiently told DaddyB-B to hurry up.  We came inside and I looked down the corridor.  The lights were out and I thought, "Ok, they've got her in the lounge room.  It's not the end of the world."  Then I looked to my right and saw the babysitter standing outside BabyB-B's bedroom door.  She gave me a look that said to me, "She's a fighter, but I'll get her to sleep."  It dawned on me that BabyB-B was in there, alone, crying.  I was stunned.  Even now I can see myself racing past her and in to the room, reaching in to the cot and cradling a sobbing BabyB-B in my arms.  I'm not sure who was more upset, me or my baby.

I immediately sat down and fed BabyB-B.  Her sobbing turned to whimpering and I sat quietly listening to the conversation taking place in the lounge room.  The babysitter explained to DaddyB-B that BabyB-B woke up, she let her cry for 10 minutes, went in and "shushed" her, let her cry for five minutes, gave her a bit of a pat, then left her again.  That is when we came home.  She commented that BabyB-B "really fights it, she waves her arms and legs around like she really wants to get out."  She started apologising to DaddyB-B who told her it was ok.  I slowly filled with white hot rage.

After I settled BabyB-B back to bed and the babysitter had left I went in to the kitchen to discover the full bottle of milk sitting next to an empty sippy cup.  DaddyB-B and I then debriefed.  He said that he didn't think he made it clear enough that we don't leave BabyB-B to cry.  I told him be that as it may, we had made it clear enough that if she woke to try to give her some milk.  It was late and we went to bed.  I didn't get much sleep that night.  I played our homecoming over and over and over in my mind.  I cannot explain how upset I was (and still am) by what we came home to.  I was at a complete and utter loss as to why the babysitter had decided controlled crying was more appropriate than some milk and a cuddle.

It finally dawned on me that the babysitter had taken the approach she had because she thought she knew better.  After all, she has raised three children "and there's nothing wrong with them".  How do you deal with the mother who knows better?

Although well meaning, a lot of the time the mother who knows better feels the need to impart her "wisdom" with a healthy dose of smugness.  There's the friend who told me when BabyB-B was only a couple of weeks old that by letting her sleep in my arms I was spoiling her.  Her own child was never allowed to sleep in her arms so I'm unsure what made her an authority on the issue.  Then there is the mother of two children.  She tells me that it's all very well and good to do what I'm doing with one baby, but when I have another I won't be bothered.  Or the mother of older children who cautions me to "just wait until BabyB-B can speak back".

Until now I have sat back and let these comments wash over me.  I nod while taking the opportunity to work on my enigmatic smile.  I spent my days before child advocating what was best for my client often against lawyers with far more experience than I had.  I wasn't afraid to speak up.  Why should this be any different?  I have now learnt the hard way that these moments are when I should be advocating for my parenting style and what I know to be best for my child and my family lest there be any misunderstanding that I know best.