Hormones are assholes

So, I'm finally coming out of a cloud.  For the last few weeks I've been feeling really weird and crappy.  Tired, short-fused, anxious, sad, absent-minded.  I was forgetting everything, I actually totally missed a doctor appointment for Penny (no, I'm not pregnant).  And I was more scared than usual that Penny was going to get a catastrophic injury doing her normal stuff. I made her leave the playground after 10 minutes because I couldn't deal with watching her climb the ladder. 

Two weeks ago, in the middle of FAO Schwartz, with two gleeful and cooperative girls and no tantrums in sight, after a full night of sleep, all I wanted was to lay down on the floor and go to sleep.

I went to the gym to try to clear my head, and while I was running I had an epiphany:  I just stopped nursing Mabel 3 weeks ago.

So I came home and googled weaning and depression.  And I found this  and this and this.  And a bunch of other stuff that all said the same thing.  Weaning can cause hormone-induced depression.  It's a withdrawal from ocytocin and prolactin. Nobody told me about this.  And it didn't happen with Penny.  But all of a sudden, my hormones are definitely being super bitchy.

I just wanted to put this out there because I had no idea this was even a thing.  But it's a huge relief to know I wasn't going crazy and it's just those dickhead hormones.  Also, after 3 weeks, I'm finally feeling better and things feel so much less desperate and surreal.  So just a heads up, mama.  If you weren't already being attacked by strangers and overly-interested friends and family members and parenting books for weaning your kid, you might also be attacked by your own endocrine system.  But you're still a good mom.  And it gets better.  

Psychological perfection

The scariest part of parenting is the thought that our kids will be permanently psychologically damaged by us.  All those parenting books sure make it sound like if we do one thing wrong- one unkind word, one minute of unattended crying, one act of misbehavior unpunished, one over-(or-under-)protected trip down the slide, we will be personally responsible for the unkind, self-conscious, selfish and impolite person our child will inevitably become.  We moms are the cause of our society's social and psychological undoing.  Our job is to create psychologically perfect children.  Anything less, we've failed.

But take comfort in this: your parents probably didn't do a perfect job raising you, no?  And you're pretty great.  Yes, there are probably some things you'd like to change about yourself, things that you don't want your kids to carry around. But every person on the planet feels the same way.  Nobody loves every part of themselves.  Nobody feels psychologically perfect.  Because that is impossible.

And it's impossible for your kids to be psychologically perfect too.

D and I try to teach kindness and respect by being kind and respectful to each other and to our kids.  But nobody is kind and respectful all the time.  We fail almost every day.

Sometimes you get mad or frustrated or impatient or unreasonable.  Sometimes so do your kids.  Every time that happens, please don't berate yourself for being a bad role model or treating your child unfairly or failing to implement the gazillion parenting rules you've been sent by well-meaning friends and relatives.

Try to relax and remember that the world is not a perfect place, and a psychologically perfect child can't possibly exist in all this mess.  Let them see the mess of the world, including the mess that is you, and remember that they'll be fine.  Those kids have a great mom.  You're smart, kind, generous and fair.  Sometimes you lose it, because you're human, but most of the time you're trying to provide a safe home where everybody knows they're loved.

And depending on their personalities, events that happen in their lives, and yes, your influence, your kids will probably, at various points, feel anxious, sad, even depressed.  They'll have really dark days, and they'll be unfair to the people they love sometimes.  They'll have unhealthy romantic relationships.  They'll have unreasonable expectations, and feel frustrated when those are disappointed.  They'll lose perspective.  They'll fail at something they really try hard to do.  They'll get furious at you for reasons they can't explain.  Some days, they'll have no hope left.  And you can't protect them from any of those things.  You can't fix those things.  You had to go through them too, and you came through the other side.

So try to save the energy it takes to berate yourself for not lavishing appropriate praise on a piece of your kid's art, or not patiently talking through your kid's refusal to put on clothes for the hundredth time this morning.  It's ok to be imperfect yourself, because your kid is imperfect too.  She always will be.  And it's not your fault.

The kindest thing you can do for both of you is just to be a fellow traveler down the road of imperfection with your kid.  Let her know you're there too.  And that you're stumbling along together.  

Hiding the formula

I'm a little late to this, but check out this story about Mayor Bloomberg asking hospitals in NYC to lock up their formula, so that women can't get access to it without listening to a "mandatory speech about why breast is best."  This reminds me of those crazy pro-life enforced ultrasounds.  "Perhaps you don't know what's best for you my dear.  Let me explain how exactly you're doing it wrong."

This is a voluntary initiative that starts in September, but virtually all the hospitals in the city are participating, including the one where I delivered both girls.

I'm no anti-breastfeeding zealot, I nursed Penny for 12 months and Mabel for 6 months.  Both times I decided to wean after making informed decisions about what was best for my family.  Which I, as a functioning human being, am totally capable of doing.  

In the hospital after Mabel was born, however, she spent the second night there crying inconsolably for hours.  I knew she was hungry, I knew my milk had not yet come in.  She was miserable.  I was exhausted, in considerable amounts of pain, already sleep-deprived and worried that I wouldn't be able to take care of both Penny and Mabel if I didn't get at least a little sleep my last night in the hospital.  So I asked the nurse for a bottle of formula.  It was given to me without a lecture.  Mabel drank it.  She slept for 5 hours and so did I.  The next morning, my milk had come in and we were on our way forward with many months of exclusive breastfeeding.

Whatever its good intentions, this policy means that a sleep-deprived, physically exhausted woman in pain has to undergo additional guilt and judgement from the people she should be able to trust the most (her medical caregivers), simply because we don't trust women to be informed about the costs and benefits of a bottle of formula for a very hungry baby.  

I'm totally on board with prohibiting those gift bags and advertisements and the like.  That stuff does seem a little much.  But hiding the formula and forcing a lecture on those who ask for it?  Come on.  Give the moms a break.  They're, amazingly, usually not idiots.

State or Trait?

Letter to the Mother Judger:

Here's a nice, easy way to tamp down that mommy judgement.  When you feel it coming, when you see that mom that just makes you shake your head, roll your eyes, and stew in your superiority, first pause.

Then consider the difference between state and trait.  Psychologists use this distinction to differentiate between a temporary condition (state), and a permanent condition (trait).

So, a lady is yelling at her 5 year old in the subway station.

Is your first assessment of this woman that she is a bad mom (trait) or that she is a nice woman having a really bad day (state)?  In the first case, you get to feel superior.  In the second case, you get to feel sympathy, and maybe even offer her some.

Try to limit your evaluations to a person's states, not their traits.

The Meanest Mommy in the World

So I know I'm all about not judging moms and trusting them to do the best they can, and also not judging yourself too harshly, and knowing everything will work out in the end, but.

I think I'm the meanest mommy in the world today.

I slept poorly, I'm stressed about a whole list of things that are all ganging up on me, and Penny knows D and I are going out to dinner tonight so she's been super duper clingy all morning.  And whiny.  And demanding that we do art together, and makeup together, and that I put her clothes on her.  None of these things are terrible hardships for a mother, but for me, today, this morning, I just want her to amuse herself with her crayons, let me put on my makeup in peace, and practice putting her clothes on herself, which she knows how to do, but refuses.  So she literally follows me around the apartment, crying "mommy I want you to take care of me!" and I'm such a mean mommy that I say "no."

Sigh.

In my head there's a perfect mommy, lovingly drawing with Penny, handing her the makeup brush and letting her get all messy with lipstick like a montage scene in a movie, and kindly dressing her and then giving her a hug and sending her off with the babysitter, perfectly happy and satisfied with the balanced and generous mothering she's received.

But I guess that mom is also not tired, not stressed, and then, not me.  And not even human really.  She's like the perfect mommy robot whose only emotions are love and forgiveness.  She can't feel anger or sadness or exhaustion or fear.  Those are scary emotions, particularly when they come out of women.  And there it is again.  That bubbling up of what women should be.  Right there in my own head, messing with my own family.

Who is it you picture doing it wrong?

To the person criticizing the new mom for bottle-feeding:

Who is it you picture when you imagine this mom who needs your instruction?  What does she look like?  The mom who is irresponsibly feeding her children bottles without even considering the benefits of breastfeeding?  Has she never heard of breastfeeding?  How is that possible?  Is she incredibly stupid, deprived, uneducated, ill-informed, selfish?  I'm just wondering these things because it's important for us to determine who we're talking about when we engage in wide-ranging bromides on the benefits and importance of breast-feeding.  If you have any faith and confidence in the mothers who are making the decisions about whether to breastfeed, you will trust them to do what's right for their family, after obtaining the information they need to make a reasoned decision.  If you don't trust them to get that information, what is your stereotype of the generic mother?  And now that you have identified that in your head, are you ok with it?

We say we trust women with their bodies, but we decidedly don't trust them with their babies.  And doesn't that imply a deep distrust of women in general, bubbling up again as it always does?

Because why

I used to hear people complain about the incessant "why"s coming out of their 3 year olds and think, "Just suck it up.  It's an honest question and a quest for knowledge.  Tell them the answer and move on."

Oh ho ho ho!  Have I been punished by the God of Judgmental Parents!

Penny has turned into a relentless, unforgiving interrogator.  Sometimes she brings me to tears.

Another lesson in withholding parenting judgement until you've been through it.

You're crying for good reasons

Letter from a New Mom:
Poor O came into my room this morning (he's been going home at night - no need for him to be getting poor sleep here when I have the nurse staff to help me) and I burst into tears when I saw him. I had a rougher night with the babies - R was being a bit uncooperative with the breastfeeding and while I ultimately got her to do it (she just wouldn't latch on), I started thinking about how in the world I'll take care of TWO babies once the extra help leaves, O goes back to work, etc. And it just felt completely overwhelming. 


Letter to a New Mom:

Just remember there are a few things working against your emotional composure.  

1. HORMONES.  That's no joke. 

2. Fear of the unknown, massive project you've just started, and the natural feeling of being overwhelmed.  

3. The realization that at some point, you are the last man standing on childcare.  

Two kids at once

Letter from a New Mom:
We had a required discharge class at the hospital tonight (for everyone who is leaving the next day) and it made me nervous to think about all of the stuff that I don't know - like what to do if the babies get sick, what in the world I will do if both are upset at the same time, etc. BUT I am trying to remind myself to not think too far in advance and just take one step at a time.

Letter to a New Mom:
You're absolutely right that you have to take it one step at a time.  You're a smart, compassionate, caring person.  You will figure out what to do with things as they come up.  

Kids get sick?  Call the pediatrician.  That's what they're there for.  You're not expected to be a doctor on top of being a mom.  

Motherhood Mantra: I Don't Judge

See the lady dragging her screaming child by the arm, the mother's face flushed with rage?  I don't judge.  I don't know what her day was like.  I don't know what that child just did, or to whom, or how many times, or how many other methods she already tried to calm the kid down, or what kind of hurry they're in.

Hear a mom call her 10 year old an asshole?  I don't judge.  I don't know how that kid has been acting all day, or week, or what the mom has had to eat today, if anything, or how much sleep she's on, or if they've all been having a hard time lately.

The Rule of Three

I recently discovered why it always seems like I'm doing everything wrong as a mom.

Basically, parenting theories fall into three categories:

1. Be compassionate and respectful of your child's feelings.
2. Be firm and prioritize enforcing rules and limits swiftly, punishing bad behavior.
3. Be consistent.

The trick is that you can never successfully accomplish all three of these things.  You can do 1 and 3, and violate 2.  You can do 2 and 3, and violate 1.  Or you can do 1 and 2 and violate 3.  So at every step in Penny's young life, it is possible for me to bring to mind a widely accepted parenting theory that would tell me that I'm doing it wrong.  We are set up for failure.  So maybe we should just embrace all the inevitable "failure" that's really just the messiness of life, and stop beating ourselves (and each other) up.

It's a long haul - worrying about princesses

I have a few friends who have recently found out they're having girls, and every one of them has said something to the effect of "I'm so worried about all that pink princess stuff, I just don't like the message they send, I don't want her to wear pink because I don't want her to be a passive weak girl, and how do I teach her to respect herself when she's 16?"  It's so hard to explain this because I felt exactly this way before Penny was born, and I don't know if what I'm about to say would have made sense to me at the time.  But here goes anyway.

Baby names

I know it's a really big deal to choose a name, and it can be really stressful and seem impossible when you can't think of the perfect one. And you think of all the things each name means to you, and how it sounds, and how someone could mistake it or mess it up, or it could mean something slightly different than you mean, etc.   I went through that choosing Penny's name.  But what I found was that all the things you currently have associated with every name in the world will very quickly disappear as soon as you meet (and name) your baby.  Once it's your baby's name, and you know your baby, that is the only thing that name will mean from then on.  I am constantly forgetting that a penny (the coin) is the same word as Penny.  In my mind, Penny is just the name of my daughter, and all the other associations it used to have are totally gone. So, my point is that choosing a name is important, but it's not as consequential as you think (as long as you don't choose a crazy name).  The name becomes your kid so quickly, and once it's your kid, you love it and can't imagine anything else.