Tag Archives: trials

Advice

I have a lot to learn about being a mother. The first major lesson I’m learning is to not believe everything I’m told.

I own a few early-days-of-being-a-mother parenting books. In the weeks prior to Paul’s birth, I read just about every parenting book in the Glen Waverley library. I talked with friends in my ward here who have been parents for years. I talked to my own mother. During the 48 hours I was in the hospital with my newborn, each midwife (there were at least 12) imparted her medical opinions about caring for my baby.

I really shouldn’t listen to most of it.

Yes, it really has taken me a month to get to this point.

I’ve decided I’ll do whatever works for my baby. I guess it’s good to read and listen to people, but I’m not going to take anyone seriously. My husband says, “Mother knows best.” I’m not sure I do know what is best, but I’m figuring it out one day at a time.

Advice That Didn’t Help

(and there is so much more!)

  • The most important thing to do is feed your baby. If you don’t, he will end up on IVs in a children’s nursery.

This came from a midwife at the hospital 36 hours after Paul’s birth. I was already panicked about trying to figure out breastfeeding and her pressure for me to figure it out before I left the hospital did not help. They actually told me I could not leave the hospital until I got him to attach correctly. With my husband’s encouragement, I told them “Actually, I’m leaving now,” and we packed up and left. One midwife was supportive of that (see Advice That Helped below). Without the awful hospital pressure, I figured it out.

  • Never give a newborn a bottle or a pacifier (also called dummy, soother, binkie). Wait until they are at least a month old (preferably 6-8 weeks old), or they will never breastfeed correctly again.

and

  • If you give a newborn a bottle (even of expressed breast milk), you aren’t breastfeeding properly and it will “mess up” your supply.

I panicked on day 13 of Paul’s life because he wouldn’t nurse. I was very worried he wasn’t getting food (see first bullet point as to why this was a huge worry). My husband bought a pump and I gave him a bottle. My husband also bought two pacifiers. Paul loves the pacifiers, has no problems with the bottle, and hasn’t really had any problem nursing since day 16. He figured it out.

  • Your baby will scream if he’s hungry.

Paul doesn’t scream. He sleeps. Eventually, when I offer him the chance to eat, he’ll realize he’s hungry and get mad and anxious to eat. But he usually doesn’t realize he’s hungry before that point.

  • Newborns that are breastfed don’t need to be burped. They don’t get “wind.”

It took me a week (or more) to realize this isn’t true for Paul. If I burp Paul every five minutes, he spits up half as much.

  • Breastfeed babies don’t spit up very often.

I read this on a website about breastfeeding. They must not have met my son!

  • You’re baby isn’t like an adult. He knows when he’s full and stops eating.

I have no proof of this, but I really think Paul will keep eating forever! He does not refuse to eat, even if he’s been eating for an hour. He’ll spit up every thing he eats after a certain point, but still he usually won’t refuse if I offer. (Sometimes he does fall asleep, though.)

  • Don’t use any kind of cleanser in the baby’s bath. Just use warm water.

I’m not convinced that that would really clean me, let alone my spit-up covered child. I’m not sure why so many people told me this. We avoid soap, of course, but what’s wrong with Johnson’s wash?

Advice That Helped

  • You have common sense, and you have nipples. You’ll be fine!

This was the response from one midwife (a cute Chinese grandma lady) at the hospital that didn’t seem worried that I wanted to skip the joint, despite not having “figured out” breastfeeding by day 2.

“I Can” Versus “I Can’t”

I’ve never had incredible self confidence. I second guess my abilities to do just about everything. So taking on the new role of mother is very daunting. Heavenly Father trusts me with one of his precious spirit children. Me!

I’m sure I’m not the only new mother a bit overwhelmed.

As I mentioned previously on this webpage, I loved being pregnant! But while I can’t say I loved the giving birth part of the adventure, I did love the incredible spiritual experiences I had during the entire process (in retrospect only; I didn’t love it at all at the time). I’ll share some of it because I feel it has so much to do with how I’ll approach motherhood and everything in my life now.

I’ve been told that the labor for first babies is usually a very long time. I figured once I got to the hospital, I’d get an epidural to deal with the pain. How else do women get through it these days? There’s pain medicine, so take it, I say.

When I first entered the delivery room last Sunday, I asked how long I should expect to be in labor. The midwife suggested that normal progress would be 4 hours for every 2 cm dilation. Since I was only 4 cm at that point, that would leave me with 12 more hours of labor! I just about died. I couldn’t stand the thought of such a long time. Because it seemed there was so much time left, I decided to wait until I seriously couldn’t bear it anymore before asking for the epidural. It would be a long time stuck on my back.

It was only another hour and a half before I asked for it. I couldn’t stand the pain. With each contraction, I told my husband, “I can’t do this!” He calmly reassured me that I could. (He was very good to me the entire time!)

Well, by the time I asked for the epidural, the nurse told me that it was too late–I was fully dilated. I couldn’t have an epidural at that point. It was nearly time to push.

In some respects, it was exciting to know that Paul was so near to be born. It’s very good to have a shorter labor! But I just knew I couldn’t have a baby without numbing all the pain!

“How long?” I asked.

“Within two hours.”

Two more hours! I couldn’t do it. I would die. I firmly decided that if the baby hadn’t been born by 3 p.m, I would succumb to death. But I’d make a valiant effort before I did. I owed that to my husband and this baby that wanted to be born.

The contractions were horrible. But then the most amazing thing happened: in between I was able to breathe and get ready for the next one. During each contraction I would feel so horrible and I’d tell everyone in the room I couldn’t do it. But then I’d get a moment to catch my breath. And I’d realize that the baby was coming.

Whenever I said “I can’t do it!”, my husband would say “You’re doing great” and the midwives would say “You are doing it!”

Well, Paul sure took his time. It was more than 2 hours. 3 p.m. came and he still hadn’t been pushed out. But he was nearly there. I decided not to die. And then, with one long push, there was Paul. He was born. The midwife put him on my belly, and there he was.

I can’t describe my first emotional impression of seeing my son. Here’s the physical description: He was blue and squirmy and tiny. (And yet, he was so huge for having just come from inside of me!) It was an incredible thing to finally hold him.

That night, my husband left the hospital and I was left with our newborn son. He was fussy and wouldn’t go to sleep. I was exhausted and the adrenaline was wearing off. I’d been up most of the night before with contractions and so that hadn’t been very restful sleep. As a new mom, I think I must have felt I would be betraying my new son if I put him to sleep all alone in his bassinet if he wasn’t yet asleep. (I was cured of that pretty quickly!)

As I paced the floor, I thought to myself “Come on! Go to sleep, Paul! I can’t stay awake much longer!” It was a silly thought, but like I said, it had been a long day.

And then it happened: I realized I could never truly say “can’t” again.

I had just been through childbirth without pain medication of any kind. I certainly hadn’t thought I’d be able to do that. And yet, I had done it. Certainly, walking the room with my baby was nothing compared to that! I can handle whatever comes!

I know I will forget and I will doubt myself again. And if I’m labor, I will probably say “I can’t do this!” It’s how life is. We forget. But I have had an experience that solidifies the fact that I can do so much more than I think I can do.

When I am up late, exhausted, with my horribly ill infant, toddler, child, or teenager, I can handle it. When my son hurts himself and is screaming and bleeding, I can handle it. When I am ill myself and my house is full of kids needing care, I can handle it. I may not feel like I can, but I didn’t feel like I could deliver a baby without medicine either. We don’t know what we are able to do until we are called upon to do it.

I thought of this again as I listened to President Eyring’s talk in priesthood session this week. (While I wasn’t invited, of course, the audio is available online so I listened to it when my husband did.) President Eyring said:

What is impossible for you is possible with God’s help in His service. … All of us, whatever our callings may be, face tasks that are beyond our own powers. I do and you do.

I certainly feel that my new call of Mother is beyond my own power. But I know that God sustained me during the birth of my son. And, with His sustaining power in my life, I no longer can say “I can’t” to any “call” or challenge along the way in this journey called Motherhood.

I won’t tell anyone to go through childbirth without drugs. I certainly wanted them! Like I said, we have been blessed with pain medicine, why not use it? In general, however, I think we need to stop telling ourselves “I can’t” if we truly don’t know our ability. Our Heavenly Father knows us better than we know ourselves. We shouldn’t let our perception of how bad things will be (or are) cloud our ability to actually do them. Anything truly is possible with God’s help. We can!

I’m Ready

I still “enjoy” being pregnant. It is a blessed experience.

But I’m ready for this baby to be born.

I ache when I try to get up and I definitely waddle now. I have a headache by the evening. But that’s not really the reason I’m ready. It’s just time to meet this guy. The bags are packed. The room is ready. I am ready.

I am 39 weeks along sometime this week. I’m noticing that the countdown I have in the corner of the website is off by a day–I think it follows a different time zone, and I’m not sure how to bring it to Australia time. So I don’t like the fact that on my due date (4 October) it will tell me that there is still a day left. Oh well.

My coworkers at the volunteer centre have been taking “bets” on when my baby will come. They all think it will happen this week. They are hoping it starts when I’m volunteering tomorrow so they can be a part of the “exciting events.”

I hope it starts when I’m at home and my husband is too.

My husband hopes it starts after Friday because he’s planning on working from home all next week and it would be easy to turn that into time off. Apparently, this week is kind of busy.

I’ve discovered that there is the Australian Football League final match on Saturday in downtown Melbourne. There are rallys in downtown Melbourne all week, a parade down Swanston Street on Friday, and the event itself (100,000 expected to go it) on Saturday. I wouldn’t care about a sporting event, but my hospital is downtown, just off Swanston Street. I’m afraid my labor will begin just when traffic is at it’s worst this weekend.

I shouldn’t worry, I guess. Today’s midwife told me to expect to go at least a week overdue. It’s standard for first babies to be a week overdue. They won’t consider induction until at least 41 weeks unless something is wrong. She didn’t seem to want to encourage me in thinking that he’s coming anytime soon, although she conceded that he could come any day now. They did the CTG, AFI, and S/D ratio tests again today. All is still fine with the baby, so no worries.

The thought of another two or three weeks of this is very discouraging for some reason. But I really do like having the baby inside: I don’t have to worry about what goes in and out of him right now. What’s a little discomfort when I know he’s not born yet because he’s not ready to be born yet?

All the same, I’m ready.