I have four children. The first one was an experiment in every sense of the word. I think that is pretty normal with the first child because Mom and Dad are figuring things out. Then the second baby came along and I thought I could do everything the exact same as I did with my oldest. That didn't work. Baby number two almost sent me over the edge for a lot of different reasons.
So I made a lot of mistakes with the first two babies. They survived and they are perfectly normal, happy, healthy, thriving kids today. No harm done. But when baby #3 came along I decided I was going to throw caution to the wind and do whatever felt right at the time, no matter how strange it seemed or how little sense it made. It was then that I began to understand for the first time that I had instincts! Wow, talk about a V8. I had instincts and if I just let go of my many hang ups, I would be able to hear Mother Nature tell me how to parent my new baby.
In the past I'd had an extremely hard time in the first couple of weeks after giving birth. My emotions are all over the place and for the life of me I could never figure out why I felt so anxious, scared, easily agitated, nervous, panicky, and just plain crazy at times. One evening when Lauren (baby #3) was about six days old I was lying on the couch. The baby was peacefully sleeping in her bouncer which was positioned a few feet away from me. The house was quiet and I was alone in the dark. The TV was on, mainly to serve as a distraction from my ever growing anxiety. As I laid there, I began to see the early signs of an onsetting panic attack. I'd had my fair share of them during my pregnancy and after the birth of my second baby.
As I laid there and felt my body begin to sweat and my limbs start to shake, I did everything I could to keep it at bay. And then, a light bulb went off in my head. I went over to where Lauren was sleeping and picked her up. I noticed that as soon as my skin touched her skin, I started to calm down right away. It was instantaneous. Then the two of us laid down on the couch and I laid her on my chest. I became even calmer still. And then I took it a step further- I lifted my tee shirt and stuck her inside, right against my chest. My shirt was very loose fitting and she fit perfectly against me. Yes, she could still breathe just fine. As I laid back on the couch, I could feel her pulse against my skin. I could smell her. I could hear her breathing. It was as if she was a part of me all over again.
The two of us laid like that for a couple of hours. The calmness and tranquility that overtook my body during that time is indescribable. To understand the magnitude of my panic just moments before, then to see the drastic change that took place when I put her inside of my shirt...it is uncanny. This little exercise saved me time and time again in those first few weeks of her life.
It's funny because society has made us believe that when a baby is born, that baby needs to immediately learn independence from the mother. You are to take that baby, the same baby that has spent the last nine months in the warmth of her mother, and suddenly expect her to adapt to this cold and strange world.
On the same note, the mother is expected to immediately learn independence from this life that she grew so accustomed to feeling 24 hours a day, knowing that nothing in this world could harm that precious person inside her. Well I don't buy it. It's not just the baby who has a difficult time being suddenly ripped from the mother. Mom has just as hard a time, if not harder because she knows exactly what has taken place and she has the matured intelligence to feel sadness as a result. Sadness and despair (in many cases) is absolutely inevitable for the mother. Rather than teaching mothers to separate themselves from their babies so quickly, society should be embracing the idea of a gradual and natural separation. It's something that should take place ONLY when both mother and baby are completely ready.
I wish I had understood this concept with my first two babies. It could have saved me a lot of heartache and confusion.
So I made a lot of mistakes with the first two babies. They survived and they are perfectly normal, happy, healthy, thriving kids today. No harm done. But when baby #3 came along I decided I was going to throw caution to the wind and do whatever felt right at the time, no matter how strange it seemed or how little sense it made. It was then that I began to understand for the first time that I had instincts! Wow, talk about a V8. I had instincts and if I just let go of my many hang ups, I would be able to hear Mother Nature tell me how to parent my new baby.
In the past I'd had an extremely hard time in the first couple of weeks after giving birth. My emotions are all over the place and for the life of me I could never figure out why I felt so anxious, scared, easily agitated, nervous, panicky, and just plain crazy at times. One evening when Lauren (baby #3) was about six days old I was lying on the couch. The baby was peacefully sleeping in her bouncer which was positioned a few feet away from me. The house was quiet and I was alone in the dark. The TV was on, mainly to serve as a distraction from my ever growing anxiety. As I laid there, I began to see the early signs of an onsetting panic attack. I'd had my fair share of them during my pregnancy and after the birth of my second baby.
As I laid there and felt my body begin to sweat and my limbs start to shake, I did everything I could to keep it at bay. And then, a light bulb went off in my head. I went over to where Lauren was sleeping and picked her up. I noticed that as soon as my skin touched her skin, I started to calm down right away. It was instantaneous. Then the two of us laid down on the couch and I laid her on my chest. I became even calmer still. And then I took it a step further- I lifted my tee shirt and stuck her inside, right against my chest. My shirt was very loose fitting and she fit perfectly against me. Yes, she could still breathe just fine. As I laid back on the couch, I could feel her pulse against my skin. I could smell her. I could hear her breathing. It was as if she was a part of me all over again.
The two of us laid like that for a couple of hours. The calmness and tranquility that overtook my body during that time is indescribable. To understand the magnitude of my panic just moments before, then to see the drastic change that took place when I put her inside of my shirt...it is uncanny. This little exercise saved me time and time again in those first few weeks of her life.
It's funny because society has made us believe that when a baby is born, that baby needs to immediately learn independence from the mother. You are to take that baby, the same baby that has spent the last nine months in the warmth of her mother, and suddenly expect her to adapt to this cold and strange world.
On the same note, the mother is expected to immediately learn independence from this life that she grew so accustomed to feeling 24 hours a day, knowing that nothing in this world could harm that precious person inside her. Well I don't buy it. It's not just the baby who has a difficult time being suddenly ripped from the mother. Mom has just as hard a time, if not harder because she knows exactly what has taken place and she has the matured intelligence to feel sadness as a result. Sadness and despair (in many cases) is absolutely inevitable for the mother. Rather than teaching mothers to separate themselves from their babies so quickly, society should be embracing the idea of a gradual and natural separation. It's something that should take place ONLY when both mother and baby are completely ready.
I wish I had understood this concept with my first two babies. It could have saved me a lot of heartache and confusion.
2 comments:
That post just made me cry! I have two kids, a two year old and a five month old. I crave my kids, I want to have them next to me. So many times I would go into my baby's room to hold them (even the bigger one) because I needed to have them with me. I almost felt like there was something wrong with me.
Thank you for your thoughts.
I think about my kids all the time! I have a seven year old daughter and a 15 year old step daughter. I am glad that they are growing up but also hate it. I truly enjoy the bonding time I have with them. It is harder with a teenager but with my seven year old, Emma, I am still craving that cuddle time with her.
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