The #1 question I seem to get asked by friends and family is, "What's the hardest thing about having a baby now?" And I just never seem to know how to answer it. Last night, Tim's folks were over for supper and, after a slight lull in conversation, his mom came up with this question. Tim's response, having been on baby duty Friday night when apparently the little one decided not to sleep very well was "3 a.m."
I can see that. The sleeping (or not sleeping) thing right now is getting old, though we're seeing improvements most days. (Then there's the regression that comes from nowhere, but I try to block that out.) And the napping is getting better and more predictable. As is the eating (more food at less frequent intervals.) And so on, and so forth with the typical developmental milestones on those fronts. And yeah, occasionally there is frustration, but I still draw a blank at the question and I think it's mostly because I wonder why they ask.
With my in-laws, despite knowing in the back of my mind that it really isn't meant that way, I immediately see it as an indication that they don't actually believe I'm capable of being a good mother. Or that since I didn't give birth I am somehow incapable of having understood ahead of time that being a parent to a newborn was going to have its ups and downs. And I want to say, "You know, I never thought it was going to be endless days of sunshine and puppies."
I spent some time last night (while I was rocking the unsleepy baby at 1:30 a.m.) trying to remember if I ever was guilty of posing this question to any of my friends who had babies. I don't think I have been - but if I did, I apologize now and forever for my stupidity. I would like to posit that in the future, the better question is, "What's the best thing about having a baby?" Because for that, I have a very ready answer.
Every morning around 7:30, regardless of how well he's slept, Joshua decides that he's ready to get up and face the day. He doesn't want to eat and doesn't need to be changed, he's just ready to get up - and he frets a little to let you know. And so when I stumble, bleary eyed, down the hallway into his room, checking the clock when I go in and peek over the top of the crib, it lifts my heart to unimaginable heights to have the fretting stop as his eyes lock on mine. Then the corners of his mouth twitch into a little smile that rapidly spreads into a wide, gummy grin as I say, "Good morning, is it time to get up?" He squeals in happy reply and waits as I undo the velcro on his swaddling blanket and scoop him up, babbling cheerily in response as I ask how he slept and if he had sweet little baby dreams. And then, when he's in my arms, he throws an arm around my neck and his other grabs my shoulder and he nuzzles his face into my neck.
And that, right there, is the very best thing. And it makes all those hard things seem incredibly insignificant and silly.
23 hours ago
I wonder if they ask that question so that they can commiserate with you on whatever your answer may be?
ReplyDeleteBecause the first thing that popped into my mind was the lack of sleep (at that stage), which makes the rest of the day a little bit harder. And I think all parents can totally relate to that.
Then again, maybe it is a question they ask because he is adopted and they wonder if adoptive parents experience the same hardships. Which is dumb, because of course you do and maybe they're harder and maybe they're not as hard because of the incredible intentional investment you made into your child(ren).
Does that make sense?
Jen, that does make sense. The first thought has occurred to me and I think if it wasn't a repeated question with some people (the MIL and FIL, for example, can usually not come up with anything else to ask me about. So in that case it's not the question so much as the fact that I wish we had some kind of relationship that could go beyond that - regardless, they've asked me the same thing at least once every time we see them.)
ReplyDeleteMy other theory is similar to your 2nd point, though I've usually attributed it to not having the usual 9 months to prepare and a wonder if that impacts things. And in some ways it does, but in others, no so much.
I think all mothers like to share war stories, and lack of sleep is part of that. I don't think (at least I hope) she didn't mean anything else by it.
ReplyDeleteBut you're right about the gummy smiles. That, and the giggles. :)