Me and Lucy, 6 days old. Photo by Kelli Dease.
In the almost five years I have been blogging, I have written several posts along the way that for one reason or another I never published. As I was going back and reading some of these long lost posts, I came across this one that was written almost two years ago to the day, during a time when I was feeling badly about not nursing Claire as long as I had planned.
So far with Lucy, things are going great in the nursing department. But lately I have been reflective about my shortcomings as a parent in other ways: How can I be more patient (this is a constant battle for me)? Am I too hard on my kids? Not hard enough? Am I teaching them to be good people? Do they know how much I love them? And the list goes on and on...
Perhaps this self reflection is a natural extension of having a new baby, or of watching your oldest child get ready to take one of her first steps out of the nest and go to kindergarten. Whatever the reason, re-discovering this post was very timely for me. I figured it was finally time to go ahead and publish it. Maybe eventually I'll get around to sharing some of the other posts I've written but never published.
(Originally written July 16, 2008.)
Don't you love it when total strangers point out your failings (or perceived failings) as a parent?
I still remember one day when I was running into the store with a nine-month old Ella and an old man sitting on a bench outside felt it was necessary to yell to me that I needed to "get a hat on that baby." You know, because those California winters are frigid. As if she would even keep a hat on her head if I tried.
Even better than somebody criticizing you directly is when somebody pretends you're not even there and criticizes you to your own child instead.
Last week I pulled into the parking garage at the mall and parked in the space directly next to the elevator. I got Ella out of the car and was struggling to get Claire's car seat snapped into the stroller frame. Ella had already walked over to the elevator (only a few feet away) and pushed the down button. Before I was finished getting Claire situated, the elevator door opened and Ella went inside. I looked up, told Ella to get out and wait for me, and she listened and did just that. (If she had not, I'm pretty sure I could have run over and stopped the doors from closing in time, but thankfully that wasn't necessary.) Only a few seconds later I met Ella at the elevator, pushed the button again and when the doors opened we all got inside. I saw a woman and her daughter making their way towards us so I held the door for them. As the doors closed, the woman took it upon herself to turn to Ella and say: "Your mama needs to get a new plan, because the one she's using isn't working for her." And then she continued to speak to Ella as if I didn't exist about how lucky I was that I averted the equivalent of a national crisis until we finally arrived at our floor and the blessed elevator doors opened so that we could make our escape.
What these people who give unsolicited parenting advice don't seem to realize is that most of us moms out there are already painfully aware of the ways in which we fall short as parents. I know I can lose my patience too quickly. I know my three-year old doesn't eat enough vegetables. Sometimes I let that same three-year old watch more TV than she should just so I can have a moment to myself.
And the truth is, we are often much harder on ourselves than any old man shouting from a bench or woman in an elevator making us feel like we've just been sent to the Principal's office.
I distinctly remember the first time I felt like a true failure as a mother.
When Ella was born, I knew I wanted to breastfeed. And my goal was to do so exclusively for the first year. I thought things were going just dandy in that department until I took her in for her six month checkup. There I found out that since her last appointment (at four months old) she had only gained a few ounces and had fallen almost entirely off the growth chart. My pediatrician told me that I need to start supplementing with formula right away. So I went home, nursed Ella and then offered her a bottle, which she proceeded to suck down in record time.
I'm pretty sure that's when I broke down crying hysterically because I had been starving my baby. There couldn't be a more fundamental way to fail at parenting. A rational person would have looked at the situation and said there was no way I could have known. Ella was a bit fussy after feedings but she never protested too much, and by six months she had already been sleeping through the night for a full month. Surely those aren't signs of a malnourished baby. The problem is that mothers are not rational beings. All I could think was: I am her mother, so I should have known.
Even though in the end everything turned out just fine (Ella gained weight very quickly, I was able to continue nursing for three more months while supplementing with formula, she never fell behind developmentally), thinking of that time still manages to trigger a healthy amount of guilt.
With Claire, I swore things would be different. And for the first couple of months after she was born, I thought they were. She was gaining weight like a champ. I was trying all the tricks to make sure I had a good milk supply. And then right before she turned three months old, I noticed she was getting fussy after feedings. And I decided to try giving her a bottle of formula after one feeding just to see if she was still hungry, and sure enough the bottle was empty in about two seconds flat. I didn't want to give up, so while I started giving her formula (while continuing to nurse), I was simultaneously pumping multiple times a day to try and increase my supply. But then I realized I just couldn't keep up with the pumping and take care of both my children at the same time. And now at four months old, Claire is heavily supplemented with formula and I am afraid she will be completely weaned very soon.
And so I find myself in the same place again, feeling like a failure.
The thing is, I have never looked at a mom feeding her baby formula and thought that they were failing their child in any way. I know there are people out there who make parenting decisions for various reasons, whether it's regarding how to feed your baby or some other issue. And I can honestly say, especially knowing now how hard this whole parenting thing can be, that I do not think less of or judge those who choose to parent differently than I do. Because I know we are all just moms who love our kids and are doing the best we can.
So why do I continue to be so hard on myself over this particular issue? Why do I treat myself more poorly than that condescending elevator lady? What is the point of my ramblings?
What keeps coming to mind is something I have been told over and over again by various teachers in the music classes I have taken Ella to for almost three years. When they are trying to encourage the parents to sing and participate in class, they always say the same thing: "You may not think you are a great singer, but to your child, your voice is the most beautiful sound in the world."
So, I may not be the perfect mother, but I know my children think I am (at least for now). So I will continue to love them and do the very best I can for them. I can't ask anything more of myself. And if I hit a few wrong notes along the way, I can't let that stop me from singing out loud.
