Raising Children
Last week when we were at the city pool I marveled a little bit on the sly at a new mother and her weeks-old baby girl getting into the pool for what may have been the first time. The mom was wearing a bikini and her new-mother figure was evident and it was beautiful. And how brave of her, I thought, as I never had the confidence (or desire, quite frankly) to wear a bikini just weeks after my first baby had been born. As she sat on the edge of the kiddie pool, gently lowering and raising her small baby in and out of the water I sat there in a poolside chair keeping an eye on my 5-year old who was splashing around. I commented to this young mother, she is a young one, is she your first? To which the young mother replied with a Yes, and a smile that beamed like the sun. Then she said, the book said babies don't usually like to wear a swimsuit, but she just loves hers. And I tried hard to resist the so-annoying know-it-all spiel about How To Raise Children books. So I just said, Ah, the Book, and smiled. Then I said, perhaps a little spiel-like, all children are different.
--- When I was expecting our first child I was in the category of "did not have a clue," and "totally without experience." I had the trusty What To Expect When You Are Expecting with me at all times, reading and memorizing each detailed blip and nod about what was happening inside my body.... but what did I know? Really? Until I held my own baby in my arms I did not know the first thing about holding babies. The times in my life that I did hold the occasional baby were few, consisting mostly of a five minute hold-the-baby-while-sitting-on-the-couch scenario. Babies scared me, or made me feel nervous somehow. Infants were alien beings and I just did not naturally gravitate to small infant sized human beings because I did not understand them. I was fine around small children, it was just infants that I didn't "get."
--- One summer between college semesters I worked in a day care facility. I was in charge of the three-year-olds. It was one of the most tiring, wear-me-out, exhausting jobs I'd ever had. It was equally the most inspiring, rewarding and fulfilling experiences I'd ever had. Tiring, wear-me-out, exhausting, inspiring, rewarding and fulfilling also sums up my up-until-now view of raising my own children. (I say up-until-now because I have heard 'stories' from moms who have already been through the teenage years... and we are not there yet, but please check back in, oh, say 8 or 9 years, and maybe there will be a doodlz diary entry about raising teenagers...) ----Both of my babies were born ten days past their due dates, and both came into the world via c-section. Both weighed 9 pounds 11 ounces (about 4.3942 kg.) and were about 21.5 inches long. Other than that, however, they are very different, and my relationship with each is also a little different.
--- My first night with my first son was a surreal experience. I was recovering from major surgery and simultaneously dealing with the rush of emotions of adoring and comprehending the miracle in my arms. Hormones and numorphan aside, I was soaring on a level I have yet to re-live. This little baby, this person, this new member of our family was completely separate from me, yet totally dependent and a part of me. I remember laying there in the hospital bed the first night. On the TV I watched college basketball... well, I wasn't actually watching the game, it was just on... and I remember noticing all the people in the stands. The spectators. The thousands of people. And I thought to myself, all those people... all the people in the world... they all came from a mother. Sure, duh. But when you are a new mother, the thought is nothing short of amazing.
--- Remarkably I had no trouble, no fears, no problems at all when it came to holding my own infant son. I held him snug and very very close. Instinctively. Nothing felt more perfectly natural. No one could have been more surprised than I was myself. And though I hadn't 'expected' to feel so at ease, the naturalness of it all just seemed so matter of course.
--- Breastfeeding, on the other hand, was not as instinctive, for either of us. Thankfully the hospital had a lactation consultant who eased my mind within minutes of my first attempt to feed my newborn. She said, it is a misconception that breastfeeding comes 'naturally.' It is an act that both the mother and the baby learn. Sure, the sucking reflex is there, and the breast is there ready to produce nourishment, but the two must be brought together! After a couple of triest was a piece of cake... ahem, er, milk. Yes.
--- When I was expecting our first child I was in the category of "did not have a clue," and "totally without experience." I had the trusty What To Expect When You Are Expecting with me at all times, reading and memorizing each detailed blip and nod about what was happening inside my body.... but what did I know? Really? Until I held my own baby in my arms I did not know the first thing about holding babies. The times in my life that I did hold the occasional baby were few, consisting mostly of a five minute hold-the-baby-while-sitting-on-the-couch scenario. Babies scared me, or made me feel nervous somehow. Infants were alien beings and I just did not naturally gravitate to small infant sized human beings because I did not understand them. I was fine around small children, it was just infants that I didn't "get."
--- One summer between college semesters I worked in a day care facility. I was in charge of the three-year-olds. It was one of the most tiring, wear-me-out, exhausting jobs I'd ever had. It was equally the most inspiring, rewarding and fulfilling experiences I'd ever had. Tiring, wear-me-out, exhausting, inspiring, rewarding and fulfilling also sums up my up-until-now view of raising my own children. (I say up-until-now because I have heard 'stories' from moms who have already been through the teenage years... and we are not there yet, but please check back in, oh, say 8 or 9 years, and maybe there will be a doodlz diary entry about raising teenagers...) ----Both of my babies were born ten days past their due dates, and both came into the world via c-section. Both weighed 9 pounds 11 ounces (about 4.3942 kg.) and were about 21.5 inches long. Other than that, however, they are very different, and my relationship with each is also a little different.
--- My first night with my first son was a surreal experience. I was recovering from major surgery and simultaneously dealing with the rush of emotions of adoring and comprehending the miracle in my arms. Hormones and numorphan aside, I was soaring on a level I have yet to re-live. This little baby, this person, this new member of our family was completely separate from me, yet totally dependent and a part of me. I remember laying there in the hospital bed the first night. On the TV I watched college basketball... well, I wasn't actually watching the game, it was just on... and I remember noticing all the people in the stands. The spectators. The thousands of people. And I thought to myself, all those people... all the people in the world... they all came from a mother. Sure, duh. But when you are a new mother, the thought is nothing short of amazing.
--- Remarkably I had no trouble, no fears, no problems at all when it came to holding my own infant son. I held him snug and very very close. Instinctively. Nothing felt more perfectly natural. No one could have been more surprised than I was myself. And though I hadn't 'expected' to feel so at ease, the naturalness of it all just seemed so matter of course.
--- Breastfeeding, on the other hand, was not as instinctive, for either of us. Thankfully the hospital had a lactation consultant who eased my mind within minutes of my first attempt to feed my newborn. She said, it is a misconception that breastfeeding comes 'naturally.' It is an act that both the mother and the baby learn. Sure, the sucking reflex is there, and the breast is there ready to produce nourishment, but the two must be brought together! After a couple of triest was a piece of cake... ahem, er, milk. Yes.
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