Moms, Milk, and Crystal Balls

Monday morning, a sweet friend of mine had an ill-advised home birth.  Having had several Cesarean births in the past, she decided to try to have a VBAC at home.  She did so, in part, because the circumstances of this baby’s birth were medically dangerous, and she was nearly certain that she’d otherwise be advised to terminate the pregnancy.  She did amazingly well with the birth, and the beautiful baby girl was born healthy and vibrant.  Unfortunately, some medical problems ensued, and my friend had to be rushed to various hospitals and ended up having surgery.  She’s been in the hospital since Monday.  This week I witnessed the miraculous gift a mom could give her baby girl without regard to her personal comfort and safety - the gift of LIFE.

As you might imagine, my friend’s husband and children were left in panic mode, and there were a lot of decisions to be made regarding their care, my friend’s care, and especially the newborn baby’s care.  Since then, people have added to already busy days to care for children, fix meals, feed pets and livestock, and just visit.  This week I witnessed people who chose to care for others more than for self.

(People grossed out by nursing may not appreciate this paragraph).  Perhaps the thing that impressed me the most this week was the way the newborn baby girl has been nurtured.  Her parents wanted her to have breast milk, but, for obvious reasons the mother was unable to nurse her.  People have come out of the woodwork to offer up their stored, frozen breast milk or to pump extra of their own supply to give to the new baby.  Lactating mothers from all over Northern Illinois have offered to give extra milk to give this newborn what her parents want for her.  This week I’ve witnessed the nurturing care of mothers for a baby they haven’t even met.

‎Tonight at the dinner table, the following conversation ensued:
Levi: "I gotta go to the bathroom."
Violet: "Did you almost go peepee in your underwear?"
Levi: "No, Violet. I just need to go poop!"
(When he returned to the table)
Mark: "Did you wash your hands good?"
Levi: "Yeah."
Violet: "Levi, did you remember to turn off the bathroom light?"
Levi: "YES!"
Violet: "What a good boy!"
(Looks as though I'm not the only one who's buckin' for a Mother's Day card around here tomorrow.)

Mothering - some women seem to be born to do it.  I am not one of those women.  When asked as a child, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”  my usual response was that I wanted to be a doctor with pets but no husband and no kids - in a high rise apartment complex in the city.  Things didn’t work out that way.  Mothering has been a huge learning curve for me... from day one I wondered why I had quit my job at the State Police to stay home with a little thing that only cried, ate, slept, and made messes.  Things got better as time went on, but not so much that I wanted to co-sleep, baby wear, attachment parent, etc.  I love my time with my kids.  I also enjoy short times away from my kids.  

This reminds me of the Time Magazine controversy I read about a little this week.  If you don’t know what I’m talking about, you could just do an internet search and find it easily.  The cover shows a photo of a woman supposedly “attachment parenting” by standing up while nursing an older toddler.  The cover photo hardly depicts what I know of attachment parenting and pits mothers against each other by adding title to the effect of “Attachment Parenting:  Are you Mom Enough?”  First of all, I’d like to meet the mother who thinks she’s “Mom Enough”.  Personally, I don’t know any mothers who’ve made it to the point of perfect, guilt-free mothering.  When I was first mothering, I’d never heard of attachment parenting.  Now it’s all I hear about.  The older I got when I had kids, the more inclined I was to baby wearing, co-sleeping, etc., but I did not feel duty-bound to make it a lifestyle.  I still don’t.  Yet, God gave me children.  What was He thinking?  If you’re a parent, you were once handed a newborn baby at the hospital.  If you thought, “What an amazing gift.  This was what I was always meant to do.  Now I’m fulfilling my purpose in life,” um... I think you’d be in a minority.  I remember thinking, “Is this really mine?  Don’t I need some kind of license to take her home?  Is there a manual?”  Many days I still feel like that.  

Last Monday night, our family started with a bout of one, rotten stomach bug.  Violet started about 15 minutes after midnight when I was just drifting off to sleep.  She began by complaining about her head... not wanting to tip me off that it was her stomach - dreading that I might go find her a bowl.  Babies and toddlers HATE bowls when their tummies hurt.  They seem to believe that the bowl is a device used to induce vomiting.  Mine have always shoved it away, begged not to have it, and screamed when it came into view.  As I was searching for a bowl, she vomited all over her bedding.  I set her up on a blanket on our bedroom floor and instructed her to avoid the bed, because mom and dad needed to stay healthy.  In the meantime, I began to feverishly clean both upstairs toilets - knowing that these would likely become close, personal family friends in the days ahead.  As I was cleaning the second bathroom, I heard her begin to vomit again.  I ran to her and found her on our bed vomiting all over the bedding.  I wasn’t sure whether to remove her or let her finish the job.  I opted for the second, but not without intense frustration.  I said (I’m sure more yelled than said), “Violet!  What are you doing?  Mommy told you to stay on the floor!”  As she looked up at me vomiting and crying, she said, “I’m wiwy sowy, Mommy.”   Nothing like yelling at a vomiting child to make you feel like a world-class mom.  As I removed the bedding to the wash - including the dry clean only comforter that was clearly invented by a man or a masochist - it was my turn to apologize.  I lay down beside her and wrapped her up in her blanket.  I rubbed her arm and asked her to forgive me for being unkind.  Kids are always quick to forgive... at least in my experience... and fortunately for me.

I just finished knitting a Mother’s Day gift for my girls’ step-mom.  Sadie noticed they didn’t have a gift for her, and I offered to make one they could give her tomorrow morning.  She told me the colors Emily liked, and I made mental note.  This week, I was at Walmart when their dad and Emily dropped them off with me.  My girls hugged their dad and Emily, and she hugged them back - not just a pat or a squeeze, but a real, nice hug.  She loves my daughters, and I love that about her.  Don’t get me wrong.  I have not always found anything to love about Emily.  She was a cause of our marital demise.  However, she treats my girls with kindness, love, and care.  She nurtures them.  “Mother” isn’t a simple title.  “Mother” is action that earns you a title.  She may not be their “mother”, but she mothers them, and for that, she has my respect and appreciation.  A few weeks ago, Sadie started being very purposeful about making statements to me like, “Emily can do ___, why can’t you?”  After awhile, these statements started to sting.  I had to think them through and give myself permission NOT to compete with their step-mom.  She is Emily.  I am not.  She makes green pancakes.  I make blueberry or plain.  She always makes fresh salsa and guacamole.  I rarely do.  She gives good neck massages.  I prefer softer touch.  After thinking awhile about it, I decided to ask Sadie if she could tell me nice things about Emily without comparing the two of us.  I said, “I don’t mind if you tell me the things you like about Emily, but could you try to do it without asking why I’m not like that?”  She smiled sweetly, and hugged me tightly, and said, “Sure.”  After all, I figure she needs to learn that most people don’t take kindly to the manipulation of being directly compared with someone else.  Happily, we are all unique.  I’m glad Emily has things to offer that I don’t.  It makes my girls’ experience of women positive and diverse.  Why try to be positive about their step-mom?  Because they love her - despite what my feelings have ever been about her - she loves their dad and them, and they love her too.  End of story.  If I were to be negative about Emily, that would not only make them uncomfortable and sad and conflicted, it would show the kind of vindictive, jealous, and selfish person I am.  I don't think it'll ever be easy, but to pit your child against a person she loves because you don't like that person is to pit yourself against your child... whether it's a parent, grandparent, step-parent - whatever.

Claire’s cat Reeses had 5 kittens almost 2 weeks ago now.  She was a first-time mother, and we weren’t sure how she would handle it.  We hoped she would take to it well, and she did.  As you can see, she is the ultimate attachment parenter.  She nurses them all till they sleep, and then she goes out hunting or just lies under the truck in the shade - getting a little fresh air.  What a good momma kitty.  

My phone's Apzilla app has a "crystal ball" function.  I always get a little nervous when the kids start asking it questions, because the questions are inevitably embarassing, and the answers sometimes worse.  Tonight (probably in honor of tomorrow), Austin was showing Levi how to use it (if only he could read).  He asked, "Is momma wonderful?"  The answer:  "It is decidedly so."  Of course, I liked that.  Then I hoped they would stop asking it questions in the positive, because I anticipated the next answer would logically be less flattering. Austin asked it again, "Is momma sweet?"  The answer: Ask again later.  Okay, not so bad.  Levi asked, "Is mom incredibly beautiful?"  The answer:  I just don't know.  Well, honestly, neither do I, and that was the end of the crystal balling - to my relief I had come out unscathed. 

I guess this blog is a shout-out to moms in whatever form they take.  Some of us bore our children in our bodies... some in our hearts.  Some of us have them by our sides... some have them in our prayers... and some have them waiting up in heaven.  Some of us mother alone... some of us are lonely mothers.  We're still the most beautiful creatures God ever made... especially when we're mothering.