Have you ever noticed how almost every mother you meet will
share the joyous, silly, fun and beautiful aspects of being a mother? Yep,
motherhood is awesome. When you first see your baby, the first kiss, the first cuddle,
the first eye-to-eye contact, the first smile… overall, the first connects.
They are precious and to be cherished. But no one tells you the difficulties of
being a mother, especially a first time mother. I’d like to be that person.
I worked very hard during my pregnancy to have a ‘normal’
delivery. I was ridiculously fit (I freaking climbed a mini hillock when I was
9 months pregnant), I ate healthy, I went to work till the very end…I was very
happy throughout my pregnancy. While I was warned I may have a c-section coz I
am a tiny person, I was also encouraged to try to go the normal delivery route.
I went into spontaneous labour 2 days before my due date. I was in labour for
37 hours. Of that, I went without an epidural or any other type of pain relief
for over 20 hours. I even went off the epidural when I was 8 centimeters. Why?
Coz without the epi the contractions come stronger and faster aiding in
delivery. Let me tell you, to come off the epi at that stage with your baby’s
head descending...it’s like going to hell and never coming back. But I
persevered. I did my squats, I did my breathing exercises and held onto my
positive attitude during this time. And what did little Anica do? She decided
that entering the world face down is not as much fun as sideways. Despite the
doctor’s telling me that the baby and my life was at stake, I pushed on
(literally and figuratively) for a further 4 hours. I was devastated when there
was no other choice but be wheeled in for a c-section. By the time my baby came
out, I was woozy and simply not with it. It’s like a hazy, hazy dream. I lost
out on the most fantastic, out of the world experience because I was all hopped
up on the damn epidural during my labour. The world of pregnancy and childbirth
puts so much pressure on the ‘natural and normal’ path that some mothers, such
as myself, feel tremendous compulsion to take that route. I felt such consuming
guilt that I was willing to risk my life and my baby’s just to fulfill the
definition of a ‘good birth’ that will in some convoluted way make me a ‘good
mother’.
Having gone through such a long, painful labour followed by
an emergency c-section (when it’s emergency, the doctors don’t handle your
insides as gently…they are there to save a life), I was so tired that I couldn’t
feed Anica that very night. She had to go on formula. This when the baby
latched like a dream. I experienced no pain while feeding. It was like a
lactation consultant’s ideal scenario. I just couldn’t follow through to the
subsequent night feeds coz I was so zoned out. And let’s not forget that my
husband and mom were by my side throughout the ordeal, so they were equally
worn out by night time. So Anica was short-changed again. It took me 10 days to
get her off formula and exclusively breastfeed. But during this transition, she
became very hungry (coz the milk takes some days to come) and got colicky. She
would cry in such unbearable pain, causing more gas to enter, making her feeds
more difficult. I was unhappy, she was unhappy, my husband was unhappy, my
parents were unhappy. Anica started scaring me. I didn’t want to hold her
anymore. I wanted to get away from her. I felt like a bad mother for not
feeding my baby. Everyone told me it’s my fault…I wasn’t eating right, I wasn’t
eating enough, I wasn’t happy, I wasn’t trying. I did everything that everyone
told me…I was like an uneducated zombie following the dictates of others.
Nothing worked. Anica was hungry and my milk wasn’t enough. I felt that I was
not enough. After 4 weeks of this
torture, my childhood pediatrician suggested I get her back on alternate
formula and breastfeeds until she gets strong enough. That’s the first
permission I got to go on formula. It took me a further 2 weeks to get over the
guilt of feeding my baby formula. I was denying my kid the closeness of skin
contact, the ‘power’ of breastmilk. I had to cast my consuming guilt aside and
feed her the formula since her 4th week. Anica became healthy, she
started getting cute and chubby, she was smiling and playing lots more. While I
still am working through my guilt of not breastfeeding exclusively, I know that
it doesn’t make me a bad mother. I’m beginning to realize that breastfeeding
isn’t the definition of motherhood. Being happy for your kid is probably a
better definition?
The world of
parenting doesn’t give you permission
to be anything but perfect. Our society doesn’t show us the difficulties of
parenthood. Just look at your Facebook account. Has anyone ever told you that
labour is damn painful? That a c-section is ok? Formula is ok? That they had to
make decisions that were not from the parenting bibles or gods out there? No…all
the mothers are supermoms…at least to the world outside they gotto be. Everyone
puts up pictures of their cute babies. No one puts up pics of the kid who
refuses to sleep, the kid who will make your life go upside down, the times
when you feel so…useless coz you can’t take care of your baby ‘perfectly’. I
crumbled under that pressure. I had no one who told me that the most important
thing was being happy and making sure your baby is happy. Whatever way you get
there is irrelevant.
I’m not saying that I won’t put up pics of my cutie pie. But
I will acknowledge that she is the cause of many challenges I face – I will put
up those pictures too. If she happens to still look cute, then I guess she’s
one of a kind! Parenting is no breeze. There is no rulebook. No one can tell
you what’s correct. Only you know what’s correct.
I’m a good mother in a way that I define a good mother. I
wish I had the strength to believe in that completely.
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