At times people come up to me and say, "here, let me take your baby." Usually it's when she's crying and I can't figure out how to help her stop. When this first began to happen I felt somewhat defensive. It led me to feel incapable of providing my child with what she needed. But more than once, these experiences have made my heart swell with gratitude.
I go to a support group on Sunday nights. Sometimes I don't go; it depends on how strong I feel. Or sometimes how broken. The discussions, the people, the atmosphere really ground me and help me remember that I'm not alone.
I take Alexa with me, and for the last two months or so she has been getting very tired and upset right during the time that group takes place. In my mind I beg for her to calm down and hope that those around me have some compassion. They are patient and have never said a negative word about it.
A few weeks ago it was so bad that I was nearly in tears. I was out in the hall and I had fed her twice, rocked her, given her a binky, patted her back, and everything else I could possibly think of. The first part of the meeting consists of gospel study support and those who are there take turns reading. The second part consisted of us sharing our recent experiences, thoughts, and feelings. Alexa had cried and screamed through the whole first part of the meeting and I had missed everything. I finally gave up in exhaustion, stood against the wall, and slid to the ground. I held her loosely in my arms and sat there staring.
An older woman whom I had never met came out in the hall and said, "we are about to begin the sharing portion of the meeting." Tears welled up and I became literally sick to my stomach because I knew what was coming next; she was going to ask me to either figure out how to get my baby quiet or leave. She then said, "please let me take your baby so that you can go in." I can't even remember if or how I responded as I lifted my three month old baby and placed her in the arms of a stranger. I went into the classroom and sat as still as possible while tears streamed down my face.
I feel that the longer I live the more I come to learn that love can be found in unexpected situations. It seems to hide, tucked in corners of the walls and crevices of words. That lady, whom I haven't seen since and may never see again, likely has no idea what she did for me that night. But I hope that she can feel the warmth of this grateful heart from miles away. I hope that someday when she is on a late night walk she will remember what she did, and she'll feel my warmth brush against her cheek in the soft breeze of the wind.
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
Wednesday, February 18, 2015
Is she a good baby?
It's been a long time since I've written, and I feel a bit sad about it because I've learned so much in the last few months since Alexa was born. Here is just a snippet, and I hope there are many posts to come.
I am now painfully aware of the phrases that all people say to mothers about their babies (you mamas know what I'm talking about). "She looks just like her dad" or "she is getting so big!" (because I didn't notice that my baby born at 8 lbs in now 15 lbs). Another thing I know is that before becoming a mother I NEVER had a second thought about saying these things to other mothers. Even now, I understand that those around me just want to show they care. That's why they ask questions, make comments, and show their interest.
Do you know those moments where you want to challenge an idea but it's out of the norm? For me, this occurs frequently with grammar. I think for a long time when someone asked how I was and I said "good" it was because saying "well" sounded strange; few people say it correctly. So we let our fear of feeling awkward dominate our desire to change the way that others think; to help them think more correctly.
There's a question that women all around have asked me frequently over the last four months. At first I answered the way I thought made sense, the way that explained what they were actually trying to find out. But every time it's asked I feel more and more uncomfortable knowing that each time I don't challenge the question I'm passively letting a stereotype form.
So the most recent time I was asked, "is she a good baby?" I responded by saying, "what does that even mean?" Because even though my daughter is only four months old, I don't want her to grow up feeling like she is a bad child if she doesn't do what is most convenient for me. Would you tell your toddler that they were "bad" for falling down while learning to walk? Would you tell your teenager she was "bad" for forgetting her school book at home? These examples might be absurd, but I think that the "good baby" question makes human = bad! Most people think a "good baby" sleeps through the night, and people think a "good baby" doesn't cry unless she needs something, but these are silly expectations!
I am happy to step out and challenge this idea of the "good baby." Why? Because Alexa poops out of her diaper, and she cries at 4:00 am, and she accidentally smacks herself in the face. She often cries when I set her down and I can't get anything done. Also, when she coos in her sleep I think she's dreaming of heaven, and when she scrunches her eyes to smile I feel a tiny glimpse of how Heavenly Father feels about my happiness.
Alexa is a GOOD baby, because she is doing everything just right, just like a baby.
I am now painfully aware of the phrases that all people say to mothers about their babies (you mamas know what I'm talking about). "She looks just like her dad" or "she is getting so big!" (because I didn't notice that my baby born at 8 lbs in now 15 lbs). Another thing I know is that before becoming a mother I NEVER had a second thought about saying these things to other mothers. Even now, I understand that those around me just want to show they care. That's why they ask questions, make comments, and show their interest.
Do you know those moments where you want to challenge an idea but it's out of the norm? For me, this occurs frequently with grammar. I think for a long time when someone asked how I was and I said "good" it was because saying "well" sounded strange; few people say it correctly. So we let our fear of feeling awkward dominate our desire to change the way that others think; to help them think more correctly.
There's a question that women all around have asked me frequently over the last four months. At first I answered the way I thought made sense, the way that explained what they were actually trying to find out. But every time it's asked I feel more and more uncomfortable knowing that each time I don't challenge the question I'm passively letting a stereotype form.
So the most recent time I was asked, "is she a good baby?" I responded by saying, "what does that even mean?" Because even though my daughter is only four months old, I don't want her to grow up feeling like she is a bad child if she doesn't do what is most convenient for me. Would you tell your toddler that they were "bad" for falling down while learning to walk? Would you tell your teenager she was "bad" for forgetting her school book at home? These examples might be absurd, but I think that the "good baby" question makes human = bad! Most people think a "good baby" sleeps through the night, and people think a "good baby" doesn't cry unless she needs something, but these are silly expectations!
I am happy to step out and challenge this idea of the "good baby." Why? Because Alexa poops out of her diaper, and she cries at 4:00 am, and she accidentally smacks herself in the face. She often cries when I set her down and I can't get anything done. Also, when she coos in her sleep I think she's dreaming of heaven, and when she scrunches her eyes to smile I feel a tiny glimpse of how Heavenly Father feels about my happiness.
Alexa is a GOOD baby, because she is doing everything just right, just like a baby.
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