But I might keep the banana bread

I received an email from a neighbor and acquaintance this morning. She had her baby last week. As she was almost two weeks late, each night I'd walk by her house while out with the dog and look for signs of life to see if they were at the hospital or not. I was genuinely excited for her. I made an extra loaf of banana bread and stuck it in the freezer. I picked up a neutral onsie while out shopping (I bought two for myself). I froze some chicken soup and picked up a loaf of french bread to deliver to them, thinking they might be in need of food reinforcements by now.

I know her previous birth story- how she labored at home for almost all of it with a Douala, showed up at the hospital practically crowning and pushed for awhile before- voila! A baby. So I expected the same this time around. The mass email I received today read as expected; birth date, size, weight, general excitement and good old fashioned button-busting pride. Then, a statement about how proud they also were of their second natural childbirth with no pain meds that was faster and easier than the first.

I swear reading that felt like a slap in the face.

She has every right to be proud. I'll bet that feels amazing. Unfortunately, I will never know what that's like and therein lies the issue. It's MY issue, not her issue. I KNOW this. Still, my first, initial gut reaction was: F*ck this - I'm keeping that onsie. My second was: Get over yourself. That's childish and wrong. My third was: Fine, but I'm still going to be pissy about this.

I question "What if.." over and over in my head every single day. What if I had waited a few days instead of being induced the last time. What if I had a Douala or a really kick ass midwife at my side helping things along instead of three different labor nurses. What if I could have delivered him and become one of those women, so many women, who go into labor, show up at the hospital and have a baby. Who don't ever have to spend a minute trying to weigh the pros and cons of a delivery versus a surgery. Then I tell myself to stop it. When you are not in the baby making-baby having stage of your life, no one cares about your birth story. Except maybe your kids and you. It doesn't matter how they got here, it just matters that they get here. Full stop.

I'm revisiting some harsh lessons learned in these weeks leading up to having this baby. Some very resentful feelings are surfacing that have left me alone since we graduated from infancy to toddlerhood, but that plagued me harshly in the first few months of my son's life. The fact that I couldn't deliver him in the way that I thought I should have been able to. The fact that I couldn't breastfeed him. I tried everything, I mean everything, every trick any nurse ever knew. His weight was dropping and still not a single lactation consultant would say to me- It's OK. Give him the formula. This is one tiny step of motherhood. Move on. Enjoy your baby. Instead I felt like a failure, every day, crying big tears holding that tiny baby trying to force feed breast milk with a syringe. It literally makes my stomach turn to think about those days and unfortunately these days, after putting much of that away, I can think of little else.

I don't fit the mold. The mold. The mommy mold. I had pitocin- boatloads of it, which apparently, is now frowned upon. I had an epidural AND a C Section, I didn't breastfeed (although I pumped for nine months which looking back is just CRAZY) and I don't stay home with my kid(s). As someone who doesn't fit the mommy ideal I think I can say from the reactions I get, with some authority, that the myth of mommy perfection still exists.

I just want to say to women who labor (relatively) easily and who breastfeed for months on end seamlessly as they go about their days- You just don't know. You just don't KNOW what it's like to want that and not get it and I want to make them understand.

When actually, it's me who needs convincing. That the result of a quick labor with no drugs are not any more breathtaking than one who comes out of the operating room. Or that the reality is the only person who will be disappointed if I have another C Section is me. I could use reminding that pre-school teachers don't ask you if your four year old had formula or breast milk.

So I'll hand over the gift tonight with a smile and I will congratulate her and I will sincerely mean it.

Then I will walk home and try not to think about it any more.

Comments

[amanda]

i have this same thought way too often...

since i didn't push her out the "right" way am i less of a mother?

even as i type it i know it's lame. but it's still there.

so i get it.

and you my friend are by far better than the mommy mold :)

[Binky]

The mommy mold is...moldy. Who needs that toxicity? You are a breath of fresh air.

[nonlineargirl]

We all have sensitivities that other people bump into (usually not on purpose, though sometimes...). You should give yourself the space to feel what you feel, but you can't really expect people to know what is going to be hard for you to hear. (I write "you" but just as much type this as a reminder to myself.)

We can wish people would think before they speak (or write) about what is easy for them, but that is a pipe dream, probably.

(and you know this, but you are not less of a mother for not doing things as others have, or as people are saying is "right" at this moment)

[Kimberly]

Awwww. You shouldn't beat yourself up for these things. The bottom line, end result, is having a healthy baby and a healthy mommy. The path you take to get there has NOTHING to do with how great a mom you're going to be. Same with breastfeeding. You did your best and you pumped for 9 months (I pumped for the last 3 with my second baby, so I know the SUCK of pumping round the clock to keep you baby full of breastmilk).

Today, you have a wonderful baby. That is the most important thing.

[Amanda]

I hope you get everything you want and that if you encounter hiccups in your dreams, that you find a way to forgive yourself and your body for whatever might seem unfair.

Good luck!

[mayberry]

Me too, me too me too. I questioned myself for so long over the pitocin/epidural/c-section spiral. I think having the 2nd kid helped, actually.

[Lady M]

I had the pitocin and epidural both times. There were about 20 minutes this time around where they though I would need a c-section, and although it ultimately wasn't needed, getting the baby out safely is all that matters. You have one awesome kiddo and another on the way. Nothing else matters!

And now I know why you are a pump expert. 9 months - hard core!

[Chicky Chicky Baby]

I understand this. I really do.

If you put chocolate chips in that banana bread, I would totally keep it if I were you. ;)

[Nicole at MommyWarriors]

Hey, at least your children passed thru your vagina. Mine all came thru a hole they had to cut in my tummy. I never will know what it's like to push a baby out. I'll never know the pain of a true labor contraction. I'll never have my vag cut down to my ass so my newborn's big head can squeeze thru. But, guess what, I've earned my war scars in other ways, so I'm not going to let any ubermom expectations get me down, and you shouldn't either!

[catnip]

Your story is very familiar to me. I had pitocin, an epidural, then a c-section, AND I couldn't breastfeed either. I only managed to pump 5 weeks and hated every minute. Nine months is true dedication. There is no one mommy mold, just many different ones, none better or worse than the others.

[LifeAsIKnowIt]

We all have different experiences and stories and a lot of us wish we had done things differently.
But we're all moms who love our kids.

Keeping the banana bread would make me feel better if I were you ;)

[Kate]

For what it's worth, in my book, you definitely fit the mold of an amazing mom who I wish I could be more like. You are right, in the end, on the big picture, all of those things--C section, inability to breastfeed--don't matter. But they do matter to YOU, and those are the memories you carry with you. And I think you should allow yourself to be sad about it, especially when you have triggers that remind you of those unrealized dreams.

I had an absolutely miserable experience breastfeeding my older one (every infection the book that eventually led me to pump for six months--so, holy cow, I have so much respect for you for doing it for nine months!), and four and a half years later, it still brings tears to my eyes. But having gone through that, I was more prepared and level-headed about it when my second son was born. And while it hasn't been exactly a walk in the park, it's been much better. But what's more important is that I told myself in advance that if it wasn't going to go well, I was not going to feel guilty about it or torture myself--and that made a world of difference when I hit all sorts of roadblocks in the beginning.

Oh, and last thing--I think epidural rocks. That's one thing I have NO REGRETS about.

[Bon]

i get this, deeply and with tears in my eyes. i always feel that moment of bitterness, of resentment, when i come across people who present any aspect of their parenthood smugly and perfectly, like "yay me, i did this right!" because so much of doing it "right" is having the opportunity and the control that some of us, for various reasons, will never experience...and it hurts to feel less by comparison, to feel like "they" will never really understand how lucky they are, and how random luck is.

now i am craving banana bread like a sonofagun, by the way. :)

[patois]

All I've learned about the same thoughts I have is that I always find something to beat myself up over. (Oh, that and how much I covet your banana breadmaking.)

[simplicity]

Hard things to deal with, but good for you for being genuine with yourself and your feelings.

You are right that this too shall pass when talks of baby/birth are long passed, but that doesn't make it any easier now.

[Dink(y)]

"pre-school teachers don't ask you if your four year old had formula or breast milk."

Hang in there!

[Patricia]

Can I be the one to say, "GAG!" over your neighbor putting this in their birth announcement? Why would anyone do this? Who really cares except the people involved (and those of us who like to beat ourselves up over others' superior birthing ability)? Jeez. Keep the banana bread for sure!

[paige]

I know whereof you speak. I have three kids and all three births were radically different. My first was a c section. Second was full of medical intervention and just plain annoying crap. Third was had much less intervention and I got to do what I needed at the time.

All three kids are healthy and delightful. Most of the time...they're now 16, 13 and 7.

I had a lot of guilt and sadness that the births didn't go the way I'd envisioned. But NOTHING with kids goes the way the parent envisions. That's the first lesson in parenting, I think.

As you wrote in the above post, the importance of *how* they got here pales next to the fact that they *are* here.

You don't know me from Adam, but I can reassure you that at some point, you'll let go of the guilt and see that no one can be the ideal parent. You don't have to be. And one day it's going to feel ok to you that things happened the way they did, and no one in your social circle is even going to be talking about birth stories, they'll be talking about driver's licenses and early college admissions.

If your kids are learning and thriving and growing, you're doing a great job.

[Kelly]

Just chiming in to say that even with supportive midwives, I still had a c-section. Like you, I had trouble breastfeeding my first as well. BY three months, she was completely formula fed. I beat myself up for a long time about both. No longer. The second time is so much more chill, trust me. I tried for a VBAC, presented with the same difficulties as the first time around, and got sectioned again. The breastfeeding? Still had issues, but not the same ones. The milk comes in insanely fast the second time around. If you choose to nurse, it will most likely be way easier.

My intention was to have as intervention-free a birth as medically possible. I really admire and respect women who are able to do that. But I needed interventions. You did too. I love my midwives (most of them), but I am grateful to have had safe OB care when my 27-hour labor ended in surgery.

And I second Kate on the pumping. I bow down before you. That is tremendous.

You're doing great. No braggart neighbor should be able to convince you otherwise.

[Kristie]

Just clicked over to your site from a blogher link on another site, blah blah internet linking stuff .... the comment in this entry that bothers me is the one in the e-mail you were sent about "being proud of the quick, easy, drug- free delivery."

As a person who birthed my first baby by unplanned c-section, then had four vbacs (including one set of twins) what I don't understand is the "proud" part of the comment. Like she had ANYTHING to do with it????

Also, as a three-time surrogate, let me assure you that the path is not as important as the final destination. I get the impression you already know that, but sometimes it's nice to be reminded.

Different people labor differently. It doesn't mean theirs is easier because they are fabulous, or that they are tougher, or that they are somehow more successful than women who wind up with pain meds or epidurals or with c-sections.

Proud? Of what? Being lucky enough that they don't need it??? That's like saying "I'm so PROUD I won the lottery!"

Having a drug-free, vaginal delivery is not something women get because of THIER total awesomeness, as much of some of them might like to believe that. Just like the woman who need, want, and prefer medicated deliveries, or who have to have c-section babies, are any less as women.

I guess I'm rambling. I just hate that patronizing attitude, as presented by your neighbor and countless other women, and wish they would clue in that the word "Proud" should be substituted with "Damn Lucky". And that they're not better than the rest of us.

Best of luck to you in your upcoming delivery.