Supplement? Did she say "supplement?"
"Maybe you're just not making enough milk anymore."
Or perhaps she said "inadequate."
When our pediatrician suggested that my 6-month-old was not fattening up—and not
sleeping well—because she wasn't getting enough to eat, I took it personally. After
all, I had been the sole provider of her sustenance for her entire life. She hadn’t
taken to a bottle, so my husband had not fed her milk nor had she ever eaten even a
spoonful of pureed sweet potatoes. So, naturally, the doc's words hit me with the
sting of a slap across the face.
But was I to blame? Was I doing something wrong? Maybe I wasn't getting enough
rest (three kids? that's a laugh.) Or maybe I wasn't drinking enough water. Then at
$10.00 per packet, I had stopped using my prenatal vitamins—a quiet rebellion
against prescription price rip-offs. Oh, the listmaking in my head continued
unabated. Defensively, I listened to her suggested ways to add bulk into my baby's
diet.
Formula? Did I hear her say "formula?" The "F" word? With past babies, I had used
formula unabashedly, my main regret being its exorbitant price. But I knew that once
the "supplement" ball started rolling, it would soon roll right over the nursing
experience entirely. And I was not about to let that happen: I was going to nurse this
baby until I decided it was time to stop, not when we just got lazy. I was going to do it
right this time.
Oh.
Ahh.
I see.
After a few hours of ruminating over the wise doctor's words, I did see it. This little
scenario was not playing out as I had planned! My first two babies had decided to
make changes when they saw fit; I was determined to fulfill my own agenda this time,
this third time, this last time.
My own needs, and my own ego, were standing squarely in the road of progress. An
effective blockade those things can be. Piled up like a 30-car traffic jam behind My
Needs and My Ego were, among other family miscellany, My Baby's Needs. There
they were, lodged between First Child's Preschool Schedule and Pending Summer
Road Trip.
Suddenly, all the nasty, selfish things parents do flashed before me. Would I force my
children into activities I liked, just so they would do well what I could only do
marginally? Would that be my face attached to the Obnoxious Little League Parent's
mouth? Would I start steering my offspring into clothing and hair choices that better
represented my tastes, and therefore, my value? Because if I am inclined to starve
my child to serve my own purposes, where would it end???
Well, it ended here.
I guess I chewed on my own inadequacies enough to see that the first axiom of
parenting is "you're never enough." I don't expect to be all that my husband needs in
his life. Why do I expect that I can be all that my children need? Some day they may
have spouses! They will have school friends that are infinitely more interesting than I
am! They will want to buckle their seat belts by themselves! And yes, ladies and
gentlemen, they will even eat solid food.
I must have chewed long enough to see that the second axiom is "it's not about me."
My husband and I are merely our children's custodians. We are their shapers, but
not their makers. That part was done elsewhere. Their behavior in a restaurant
reflects on our abilities as parents, but their genius does not. We might encourage
and direct their particular talents, but we do not bestow them. That, too, was done
elsewhere.
So I called the Tow Truck of Rational, Humble Thinking and removed Ego and Needs
from the roadway. Then I got out the can of baby formula and put a few spoonfuls
into my child's cereal. She still loves me. She still needs me. I am adequate.
I stirred the cereal knowing that there would be countless supplements in her life,
from food to friends to books to bosses to hobbies to horses to a husband.
I held out the spoon.
She ate it right up.
Anne Murphy is a costume designer who lives in the Denver Metro area. She is
married and has three children, ages 10, 8, and 5. She’s learning to accept that while
she is enough for her children, she is not all, and that's ok. She's also learning that
they are not all for her, either--and that's ok, too.
"Maybe you're just not making enough milk anymore."
Or perhaps she said "inadequate."
When our pediatrician suggested that my 6-month-old was not fattening up—and not
sleeping well—because she wasn't getting enough to eat, I took it personally. After
all, I had been the sole provider of her sustenance for her entire life. She hadn’t
taken to a bottle, so my husband had not fed her milk nor had she ever eaten even a
spoonful of pureed sweet potatoes. So, naturally, the doc's words hit me with the
sting of a slap across the face.
But was I to blame? Was I doing something wrong? Maybe I wasn't getting enough
rest (three kids? that's a laugh.) Or maybe I wasn't drinking enough water. Then at
$10.00 per packet, I had stopped using my prenatal vitamins—a quiet rebellion
against prescription price rip-offs. Oh, the listmaking in my head continued
unabated. Defensively, I listened to her suggested ways to add bulk into my baby's
diet.
Formula? Did I hear her say "formula?" The "F" word? With past babies, I had used
formula unabashedly, my main regret being its exorbitant price. But I knew that once
the "supplement" ball started rolling, it would soon roll right over the nursing
experience entirely. And I was not about to let that happen: I was going to nurse this
baby until I decided it was time to stop, not when we just got lazy. I was going to do it
right this time.
Oh.
Ahh.
I see.
After a few hours of ruminating over the wise doctor's words, I did see it. This little
scenario was not playing out as I had planned! My first two babies had decided to
make changes when they saw fit; I was determined to fulfill my own agenda this time,
this third time, this last time.
My own needs, and my own ego, were standing squarely in the road of progress. An
effective blockade those things can be. Piled up like a 30-car traffic jam behind My
Needs and My Ego were, among other family miscellany, My Baby's Needs. There
they were, lodged between First Child's Preschool Schedule and Pending Summer
Road Trip.
Suddenly, all the nasty, selfish things parents do flashed before me. Would I force my
children into activities I liked, just so they would do well what I could only do
marginally? Would that be my face attached to the Obnoxious Little League Parent's
mouth? Would I start steering my offspring into clothing and hair choices that better
represented my tastes, and therefore, my value? Because if I am inclined to starve
my child to serve my own purposes, where would it end???
Well, it ended here.
I guess I chewed on my own inadequacies enough to see that the first axiom of
parenting is "you're never enough." I don't expect to be all that my husband needs in
his life. Why do I expect that I can be all that my children need? Some day they may
have spouses! They will have school friends that are infinitely more interesting than I
am! They will want to buckle their seat belts by themselves! And yes, ladies and
gentlemen, they will even eat solid food.
I must have chewed long enough to see that the second axiom is "it's not about me."
My husband and I are merely our children's custodians. We are their shapers, but
not their makers. That part was done elsewhere. Their behavior in a restaurant
reflects on our abilities as parents, but their genius does not. We might encourage
and direct their particular talents, but we do not bestow them. That, too, was done
elsewhere.
So I called the Tow Truck of Rational, Humble Thinking and removed Ego and Needs
from the roadway. Then I got out the can of baby formula and put a few spoonfuls
into my child's cereal. She still loves me. She still needs me. I am adequate.
I stirred the cereal knowing that there would be countless supplements in her life,
from food to friends to books to bosses to hobbies to horses to a husband.
I held out the spoon.
She ate it right up.
Anne Murphy is a costume designer who lives in the Denver Metro area. She is
married and has three children, ages 10, 8, and 5. She’s learning to accept that while
she is enough for her children, she is not all, and that's ok. She's also learning that
they are not all for her, either--and that's ok, too.
| All rights reserved. |
| Getting Out of the Way By Anne Murphy Fall ©2007 |