The transition into motherhood is intense, heart-wrenching, and sometimes crippling. Every woman finds her way of walking this path
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My Transition into Motherhood The transition into motherhood is intense, heart-wrenching, and sometimes crippling. Every woman finds her way of walking this path |
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February, 2001 We have so many classes and instructions for the pregnant woman, supposedly preparing her for the ordeal of giving birth that lies before her. But once the birth is over, our society abandons her. Okay, we might bring her a few meals, some dried fruit or an enema. We check her wounds and make sure the baby is breast-feeding. And in extreme cases of postpartum depression, we intervene with drugs or maybe some therapy. But for the normal woman, whose baby is feeding and whose wounds are healing, all the emotional stuff is listened to, nodded at, and then ignored. The transition into motherhood is intense, heart-wrenching, and sometimes crippling. Every woman finds her way of walking this path. Many women follow the lead of their community. This makes the path much smoother. Some women are completely alone, and fail to make the transition. They might be our world's "bad" mothers-- abusive or absent or even abandoning. Other women are alone but cross over somehow. For the truly alone woman, the path may be treacherous and damaging. Then there is the woman who is alone by choice. She is I, the woman who heard the answers of her society and felt her heart could not follow. She was told to follow her intuition but not to close her ears; what she heard was not what she felt; the contrast and the confusion consumed many months of thinking and struggling. Was it worth it? Is it better to be alone in the midst of friends, yet together with my heart? I cannot answer this question, because I have found friends to confirm my choices-- I am not really alone. This is the amazing thing: that the messages I read and heard had me believe that they had the final word, that there was no other way of being a mother. But amazingly, since I settled on my truth and my child's truth, voices have come into the void and led me to a place of comfort and security, warmth and peace. This is now the state of my heart regarding motherhood of Saffron. We have settled on attachment parenting. Saffron has insisted on it, making our lives hell and our nerves raw whenever we have tried to follow the conventional wisdom of "crying to sleep". (Her ability to cry and to quickly reach hysterics amazes everyone who has witnessed it.) When she was 6 weeks old, a friend gave us a Koala sling and she loved it. When she was 7 1/2 months old, she became able to keep herself awake in the middle of the night and thus to insist on sleeping next to her mom or her dad. When she was 2 months old, she fought with her dad about taking a bottle (of breastmilk) until he was in tears and hers were spent. Her first night with us, she made it clear that holding her tightly and rarely putting her down was the only way to comfort her. When she was 4 1/2 months old, she encountered stranger anxiety with a vengeance and we gave up our idea of taking weekly dates and leaving her with willing friends or teenage babysitters. Now she is 9 1/2 months old: crawling, trying to walk, rarely crying, giving kisses, laughing joyfully, smiling every other minute, exploring her world so furiously that she often forgets we are around, spending 8 hours a week with her new nanny, and excitedly getting to know our friends, who are still (!) willing to babysit for us. Most of this is new, so I won't claim to know that it will last, but if it does… Attachment Parenting really worked for us! Saffron is not only thriving and becoming "independent" at a fairly young age, but she is also doing it with a high level of attachment to her parents (more about that later). And let me just say that 9 months seemed to last forever-- I was stir-crazy and impatient and creatively frustrated. But now it seems like nothing and I am so happy to have been privileged to give my child a year and a half of devoted energy and time (I was creatively useless through my pregnancy too). I truly could not have done it forever; I barely made it through some of those days and months. But I thank God deeply for the strength (and my husband's support) to keep giving her what she asked for, day and night after day and night…And I pray for the strength to keep on giving with a heart that grows stronger and more generous each and every day. August, 2001 Saffie just turned 15 months on Sunday! So it's been almost 6 months since the last writing, and I can say that things have continued much the same. Except that we are all growing stronger and older and wiser, so perhaps we have changed. For instance, I can now imagine having more children! I see that my skills and my nerves are more complex than they were a year ago, and will continue to grow. So I'm not so scared about doing all of this again. In fact, I'd probably be quite good at it. I can also see that there is an end in sight, even though it may be years away. Saffie will be turning two before we know what happened, and that is a big milestone, much bigger than one. I can see that when we meet other two year olds. We expect that she will enjoy going to school next year. She will be talking, and enjoying lots of activities that she will be able to engage in by herself. Art projects, watching movies, looking at books that we have read to her, playing music, climbing… Our thought is to wait until she is three before we either adopt or get pregnant again. That way we will have a year of having our home back, without a baby in it. And then, I'll be more ready to devote myself to motherhood again, to nursing and holding a baby for hours on end, and hopefully to use some of that time to be more present for Saffie-- to take her to classes and talk to her and spend hours in the park. Another big change is my awareness of my own attachment to Saffie. I remember when Casey told me that she was happy to have Sage in her bed, because she was looking ahead to the days when she would be shut out of his room, and their intense closeness would be over. I also remember reading in the Sears book that nursing a baby to sleep and/or singing to her while touching or holding her are the best ways to put a baby down. I could not, at one time, understand any of these statements. My reaction was-- well, it might be good for the baby, in some unknowable way (I took their word for it), but for me it is a burden and a pain in the ass. Now I understand what they are talking about. Holding Saffie in my arms, nursing her and singing to her and feeling her relax on my chest, is one of the most beautiful, satisfying moments in my day. I feel so close to her, to be able to provide a place for her complete comfort. In fact, she will do this with no one else. Thank God she has me! Thank God I am still nursing her! How much more distress she would experience, if she was without this source of comfort! Especially when she is sick, like she is now. Or scared. Or having teething pain. Or waking up from a nightmare. And it is not a burden, it is easy. All I have to do is become still. Becoming still is a challenge, but it is a good challenge. It is the source of meditation and prayer and connectedness. In fact, that is how I would describe the greatest side benefit of being present for Saffron-- it brings me closer to my Source, to God. Recently I went to the Jewish Renewal Kallah and studied for 5 days with Tirzah Firestone. She led us on a deep and amazing journey, using guided meditations into our subconscious realms. I was met there by my daimon, and I asked her for guidance. Her answer was that I need to spend more effort on deepening my intimacies. I need to be more open and honest with the people in my life. Admit my needs, my hurts, my loves. Slowly I find myself doing this with my friends. But deep down I know that however helpful Tirzah and my daimon have been, Saffron is really the source of this change. Saffron and her tenaciousness, which is almost unbelievable to me (manifesting itself these days in her physical experiments), have taught me how to respond as a parent. Boy, being and responding as a parent are such new roles for me! All my life I have been the child, the lover, the student, the friend. Sure I am a generous teacher, big sister, wife, friend, and occasionally a devoted student. But none of these roles compare. The ability to lie next to a sick child, fall into a deep and exhausted sleep, yet remain half-awake and vigilant (so much that I wake up when the neighbors are having breakfast at 7am) is a new ability. Yesterday it occurred to me that I will be caring for sick children in my home for years and years. I imagine that there is really no "end" in sight. Once they are gone, I will yearn for them, and worry about them from afar. And yet, I also imagine that this job will get easier, year by year. Already I feel rested after a night of breastfeeding and vigilance, as long as I get a few hours of sleep. If I can handle nursing a child for 15 months in a row, through infancy, teething, sickness, growth spurts, disruptions due to traveling, and other unknown causes of continuous night-wakings… won't I be able to take care of several children who each sleep most nights? I consider myself a pretty healthy and good mother. This is a role I have been preparing myself for, for years. I have watched many mothers, both new and seasoned, as closely as possible. Perhaps because I have always known that motherhood would be one of the most important roles of my life. For instance, I guard myself against over-protectiveness. I have been vigilant about letting Saffie stay with babysitters as often as possible (given all the money, time, and emotional (Saffie's) constraints.) I have allowed her to fall, to experiment with new challenges even if her physical abilities are not quite ready. I have encouraged her relations with anyone and everyone who shows an interest. Also, I take care of myself. I sleep as much as I can. I exercise, focusing on those exercises I need the most (my yoga training is invaluable here). I do my art, develop my business, nurture my marriage, and stay in touch with friends, including a nurturing women's group that meets once a month. I keep a journal, attend workshops that feed me, and read deepening books. I recognize when I have had enough caregiving, and ask for help. I ask Saffie for the affection that feeds my love for her. I try to praise myself (these pages help a lot in this)! Lastly, I focus a lot on respecting Saffron. I watch her for clues and encourage her father and our friends and family to do the same. I have taught her in this way to communicate her need for sleep, food, toys, affection, going out. I occasionally inform her that her needs are too excessive for our ability to meet them, and ask her to wait or give up her need. But mostly I empower her to get what she wants. I feel that she is not a frustrated child; that she enjoys playing on her own a lot for her age; that she is a good communicator; that she trusts us, even when we disappoint her or leave her. May, 2002 We just passed Saffie's second birthday. This morning we visited the pre-school where she will be spending 3 mornings a week starting in about 5 weeks. Then we went to the Carousel, which is one of her favorite places, allowing her to fly thru the air and indulge her intense love of horses. Looking back at these writings, I can't help feeling a bit embarrassed by the chutzpah and intense pride. But I suppose I needed to praise myself. I seem to have moved beyond that state. I am willing to recognize that different people have different solutions, as long as they do not lecture me that mine are wrong. My friend Michael, who is a social worker, a therapist, and a person very interested in parent and child therapy and development and attachment, visited with us recently in Philadelphia. We were at a sushi restaurant and Saffie was running around, having a pretty good time but getting tired. She ran over to us and tripped on the tatami mat. She banged her head on the table-- there was even a red mark over one eye. She started crying-- weeping-- so I grabbed her, threw her little body against my chest, and held her tight. Then, I lifted my shirt and put her on my breast. The cries, that had begun to subside when I picked her up, faded away. The pain had disappeared within a minute. This is what happened, but the only reason I remember it is because Michael proceeded to analyze the event. He said, this is a perfect demonstration of attachment parenting. The baby is in pain. Her mama picks her up and comforts her. She trusts her mama so much, that she relaxes and becomes limp. The intense relaxation causes her nervous system to let go of the pain, and it dissipates. The breast feeding speeds up this process, because baby associates the breast with comfort, nourishment, warmth (i.e. mama), a set of associations that she has been building up since her birth. I responded that a friend is taking a hypno-birthing class and that is what she is learning: that pain can be lessened significantly when the body is in a deep state of relaxation. I even tried it recently, when I had severe cramps and diarrhea-- and it worked! We then went on to discuss that babies who are left to cry alone when they are in pain do not learn this ability to relax and be comforted. However, they do learn to stop crying. Michael explained that they learn to numb parts of their nervous systems and parts of their bodies. He told us about patients of his who have very little awareness of the stress that exists in their bodies. It is just completely normal to them. Interesting. My work as a yoga teacher seems to tie in to this teaching that I am imparting to my child-- let go of stress and find your natural state of relaxation! Getting attached to my baby girl, Saffron, has been a transformative experience for me. I had been a reluctant caregiver in all my relationships and this certainly colored my attitude towards motherhood. I had no intention of staying up at night with my baby beyond the necessary first three months or so. I had no desire to hold a baby for hours of each day. Infant massage, baby-wearing in slings, and sleeping with the baby were definitely not in my plans. I did begin to read the Sears and Sears Baby Book in the last few days of my pregnancy, but I switched off with a book that has the opposite philosophy. This other book truly scorned Attachment Parenting (they termed it AP on the first page) and devoted a chapter-long diatribe to its evils and the super-heavy yet unnecessary burdens it placed upon mom. This book even cautioned mother not to hold her baby for too much time each day. I have to say, I seriously considered both options. The reason we had the Baby Book in our home is that our midwife recommended it to us, saying that it is the only good parenting book out there. I respected her enough to buy the book and even to read it. But it scared me and I laughed off much of the advice. My mother was a really strong force for sanity in the beginning weeks of Saffie's life. When I expressed my doubts about parenting styles, she repeated, over and over, "Use your intuition. No one can tell you how to parent. She is your baby. Listen to your mother's intuition." Yet I don't think I understood this statement as clearly back then. In those confusing first weeks, I barely knew I had a mother's intuition. Let's face it, I was exhausted, wounded, and hormonal, not to mention enduring a really difficult "baby boot camp". And I tended to over-intellectualize parenting. I suppose that is how the Sears' book finally got to me. It gave me very strong, intellectual arguments for attachment parenting. It quoted the most current research on child development, which has found that attachment parenting does wonders for all kinds of development (physical, emotional, intellectual, etc.). It also described the supposed effects of letting babies cry themselves to sleep. Finally, passionately and repetitively, the Sears' book pleaded with me, the reader, to NOT let my baby cry herself to sleep. People say that if you are going to let your baby learn to put herself to sleep, and to stay asleep, by letting her cry for a few nights, then you must be 100% sure of yourself. If you have any doubts, you will be torn to pieces and then you will quit. Well, this is what the Sears' book did: it gave me doubts. One more thought. Transitioning into motherhood was one of the hardest, most draining, and most personally challenging journeys I have ever taken. At times I resented the challenges and wished it could be otherwise. But in the end, I am so thankful for the path I have traversed. I feel like a monk who has been initiated into a new way of moving through the world. Being a mother has changed me forever, and I would not go back, never. | |||||||
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