When a woman announces that she is expecting a baby, she
instantly becomes a magnetic force field attracting advice, anecdotes, and the
occasional horror story from any other woman who has ever expected a baby at
one point in time. The problem
with this is, although this wisdom is dispensed abundantly with the best
intentions, most of it is probably unsolicited. After the birth of my first
son, I was inundated with wave after wave of “When my daughter was teething…”,
“When my son wouldn’t sleep through the night…”, “The best remedy for this
is…”,”Buy this brand of bottles…”, “Don’t buy this brand of diapers…”, “Feed him this way…”, “Hold him that way…“,
“Breast is best!”, “I was formula-fed and I turned out ok…”, “Pacifiers were my
saving grace…”, “Binkies are the work of the Devil!”, “Cosleeping is great!”,
“Ferberize him!”, yack, yack, yack, yack, yack…
When I wasn’t going cross-eyed from sleep-deprivation
coupled with the constant barrage of unsolicited advice, I learned to sort out
what tidbits of guidance worked for me and what counsel could be cast aside. I
got my parental groove and was unfazed by others’ recommendations until I was
in the hospital after giving birth to my second son.
It was 12 hours after my delivery. I spent those 12 hours
gazing smittenly at my new bundle, nursing him around the clock, and
entertaining hordes of well-wishing visitors. It was time for me to eat
breakfast when a 1st-shift nurse whom I later dubbed “The Boob Nazi”
came into my room. After manhandling me, she glanced over at my breakfast tray,
and abrasively reprimanded me for ordering a cup of coffee. Jokingly I
responded, “You mean to tell me that I am going to be in charge of two children
under the age of 2 and I can’t have a cup of coffee?” The Boob Nazi was not
amused. She proceeded to tell me that she made the sacrifice of not having
coffee, medication, alcohol, etc. when she nursed all eight of her children
and it was something all good mothers should do. (Based off of her response, it was also
glaringly apparent to me that she had sacrificed FUN.)
The caffeine issued has remained present in the back of my
mind. I cut my dependency on coffee drastically, but never quit it completely.
And I don’t feel bad about that fact in the least. This is why: Here is how my
night went the other day…
10pm- Settle into bed for the night.
10:20pm- Hubby wakes me up to ask where the dog leash
is.
11pm- Finally find the dog leash stashed away in the
drawer of our coffee table. (NOT
where it belongs, but apparently an excellent spot to hide a regularly used and
necessary item according to our 3-year-old.)
11:15pm- Back in bed after letting the dog out.
12am- “Rescue” wailing 6-month-old in his sleep after
he has rolled over onto his stomach and forgotten how to roll back.
1:20am- Make a sleepy sprint upstairs to wailing
3-year-old’s bedroom in order to soothe him after a nightmare. He requests to snuggle.
2:30am- Stumble my way back to my bedroom after waking
up and realizing I had fallen asleep in the kid’s bed.
3:40am- “Rescue” wailing 6-month-old once again from
his belly- beached state in crib.
5:00am- “Rescue” wailing 6-month-old yet once more.
5:15am- Surrender to 6-month-old and take him into my
bed.
5:45am- 3-year-old wakes up and is rearing to go.
Awesome…
As I worked my way to the Keurig machine in a zombie-like
state, I couldn’t help but think, “Screw you Boob Nazi.” And my first cup of joe that day was delish!
The moral of this story? The only piece of unsolicited
advice that any mother should ever heed is to ignore unsolicited advice. :)
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