I am THAT Mom. The one some of you probably whisper about, and you know what? I am okay with it.
This past semester I took a Women's Studies class (I needed to be full time and web classes are limited lol). While talking about various women's issues, the subject of "Are you Mom enough?" came up. You know, that perfect mom that does all the wonderful things for their child. Extended breastfeeding. Makes all their babies food from locally grown organic farms. Pinterest worthy parties, and so forth. Not that there is anything wrong with those things, but I think for the majority of us moms it just isn't attainable. Whether it is income, location, or just ability. When did we go from a society who encourages and educates to scathing criticisms. I was recently watching Raising America on HLN (okay, I was there for Jodi Arias coverage but still) and they talked about the biggest breast feeding blogs on the web. The issue of breast vs. bottle has gotten super heated, and I think it just isn't fair. It is turning into another way we, as women, cut each other down instead of being supportive and banding together. That along with birthing debates. We've gone from "it's our body, we choose what is right for us" to "you are wrong for not doing it this way."
When I got pregnant for Olivia I read and read and read, and I thought I knew everything. I had it all planned out. I wanted an all natural birth, no drugs. Hospital based, because we don't have birthing centers here. I knew what massages, music, birthing balls, gowns, everything I was going to have. And guess what? Not one bit of it happened. I struggled with the decision to have a cesarean. First and foremost it was about what was right for the baby and myself. I'm under 5 foot. My hips didn't spread. It just wasn't going to happen. After researching everything birth I knew I certainly didn't want to be induced, and I knew the result would end up being a painful stretch of hours culminating in an emergency c-section. So I opted for the calm, relaxed, controlled scheduled c-section. Then came the shame. For they (blogs and such) tell you that you should be all natural. I didn't feel like I gave birth. I struggled for that instantaneous bond you hear about (though I now know that isn't the case for everyone). Then I felt I had to defend myself and my reasons for my birth choices.
Next was the pacifier. I had been so against it. The nurses gave her one without my permission in the few hours she spent in the nursery so that I could rest. But, as it turned out, she just had an overwhelming need to suck. There was never nipple confusion and we were all happy.
Breast feeding was rough, but we did it. She was a great nurser. I didn't even like to pump. I breast fed discreetly everywhere I went. After a series of terrifying gallbladder attacks I opted for gallbladder removal. This resulted in Olivia using formula. Luckily she took to it just fine because an extremely rare complication left me seriously ill and hospitalized for a week. During this time I lost my milk, and we couldn't get it back. Likely I was just too sick. But on top of excruciating pain and fear, and being separated from my newborn I was now suffering extreme guilt because I could no longer breast feed. Though 14 weeks was a great start for her. I felt like I was a bad mom and doing it all wrong.
Flash forward to my pregnancy with Milo. The first thing I was asked was "will you do a VBAC?" I had been told by my doctor before O's birth that it wouldn't be an option for me in the future. But after an episode of The Business of Being Born I was doubting it all. Then I felt guilty all over again for choosing a c-section. Defending myself quickly like proving my reasons to others was valid. I began to question my reasons, like, am I only doing this for a scheduled date? Yes and no. I did a lot of research and learned that I would not be considered a good candidate for a VBAC. And though I felt some guilt it really was the right decision for myself and little dude. And my recovery was ridiculously smooth.
This all brings me to my current dilemma (those fancy words in the title of this blog really just mean random and talkative, and that I am but I swear there is a point). I am weaning Milo. At 15 weeks. Voluntarily. I have a sense of dread even telling people, scared of the judgmental looks and breast is best speech. My poor little man has struggled with stomach issues since day one. Between excessive gas by 12 hours old, possible colic, or is it cow's milk protein allergy, or acid reflux? A bout with salmonella at 10 weeks (don't get me started on that). Will Zantac work? How about Prevacid? Oh he won't even drink the Nutramingen. Lots and lots and lots of crying. Dude was in pain. I was trying anything and everything. I started giving him some formula when we were out and about due to his propensity of knocking nursing covers off. Then the doctor suggests that maybe I should stop due to my slew of random hormone related issues. Part time formula and part time breastmilk stopped him up. I have spent many a days in tears over it. The biggest tear jerker? He refused the breast a few nights ago, so I just started giving him strictly formula. He was so happy after a day or so. His sensitive belly didn't hurt. He could really sleep, and then smile when awake. My heart broke. My guilt, from fear and societal pressure to breast feed, kept my son miserable for weeks. Damned if you do, damned if you don't.
I guess my point here is that each woman chooses what is she believes is best for her and her baby. It is past time for us to stop judging each other over these choices. I remember seeing a documentary where a woman was terrified to pull her daughters bottle out at a playdate group because of the looks she got for formula feeding her child. There's already so much pressure on how we look, sound, dress. Where we live, what we drive, how much money we have. Why beat each other up for our mothering choices?
I am now THAT mom. I have definitely become more lax with two around. There are so many battles I just don't fight with my three year old. I have neither the time or energy for that. She eats cheetos, and hot dogs and animal crackers. Yes, we skipped bath night to prevent WWIII. Milo drinks formula. I use disposable diapers. My three year old still isn't potty trained. I am that iPhone mom...because damn it I need some kind of interaction with grown ups. Some days we don't even get dressed. I buy their clothes at Walmart. And FINALLY I don't care what anyone thinks.
