Entry 2: Humbled Into Cooperation

As an older Mom, or according to the medical professions… a geriatric mother, I was fairly confident in my maternal instincts when becoming pregnant. I had many life experiences that involved children throughout my years. I was a high school teacher surrounding myself around 2000 kids everyday. I am college educated in psychology and child development. When other parents said “it’s different when you have your own kids” I assumed they were referring to a feeling of pure love and nothing else. Now, almost a year into motherhood, I realized how little I actually knew about raising a child. The humbling, much like my child’s attitude, is strong and it is mighty.

Just as predictable as the circle of life, such is the generational debates on parenting. The standard for what is safe, healthy, developmentally appropriate and all around “good parenting” changes like the tide. My grandma made school a requirement. A vast improvement in quality of life from her own upbringing. My mom put us in car seats. Quite the upgrade from a box in the trunk of the car when she grew up. I insisted on a bassinet next to the bed sleep arrangements for my own baby. I wasn’t going to co-sleep in a WATERBED which my parents chose to do (can we agree the 80s were a wild time). And I guarantee my own children, if they choose to have kids, will find different parenting practices of their own. I say all this to build the foundation of where my confidence originated. I thought I knew better than my mom, grandma and generations previous about the best way to approach motherhood.

The Millennial and Gen Z eras are known for using the word “trauma” to explain emotional discomforts. Many people have experienced the psychological definition of trauma. An event that created extreme short term or long lasting emotional distress. Their trauma is valid. Their feelings are valid. However, the word has become slang for “things that don’t align with my expectations”. Our society has prepped kids, teens and adults to avoid seemingly negative emotions instead of navigating through those feelings. Hard moments in life are unavoidable but we seem unprepared and therefore, leading to ‘traumatic’ events.

Again, many women experience trauma. Life-changing trauma. The following discussion is not meant to minimize any victim of a traumatic event. Instead, it’s aimed with the intention of showing how the internet manipulates moments during pregnancy and motherhood to frame them as trauma. This is my experience and should not be overly generalized.

I thought the moment I found out I was pregnant would be filled with utter joy and excitement. We were not “not” trying and when I took the test I was prepared for any result. Or so I thought… I had a feeling something was different. I woke up earlier than my husband, went into our bathroom and waited the amount of time stated on the box. Really I was convincing myself it was negative, I was crazy and life was normal. Then, I filled the stick over. It read “pregnant” and that feeling of overwhelming joy wasn’t there. In its place was a sense of immediate anxiety and panic. I had planned a cute way of telling my husband we were pregnant but that plan was immediately tossed aside as I ran to our bed, hands shaking, saying “oh my god, oh my god”. He groggily looked at me, realized what I was holding and got a huge smile on his face. I was jealous. The next 40 weeks would be fruitlessly spent trying to get him to understand my dread, which was only exacerbated by the internet.

By 10am, I was Googling everything pregnancy. No more coffee, get the prenatal’s, avoid sushi and anything that could possible cause Listeria (so any fresh foods), eat the dates, avoid the pineapple, get sun but not too much, switch to all natural sunscreen, don’t eat too much, start pelvic floor exercises. I had more information about pregnancy in one afternoon than my mother or grandmother had their entire lives. My entire World was flipped upside down and I was only scratching the surface of what I “should” be doing for a successful pregnancy. There were countless ideas, often conflicting with each other, of best practices. I would spend hours doing research on every topic. Looking back, this was not great for my mental health and I Googled nearly nothing in my second pregnancy… (ask me which one was better).

Yet, in the early moments of pregnancy, the internet felt like a safe haven. Full of women my age, dealing with similar issues and giving an abundance of modern, scientifically driven helpful advice. Advice on how to navigate body changes, what to eat that will lead to a successful labor, things to advocate for at the doctors office. Moreover, there were consistent opinions of spousal support, vaccines and family boundaries. It went something along the lines of “spouses should give unwavering support, doctors need to follow your written down, meticulously edited birth plan and families should put all expectations aside to adhere to your boundaries.” The words were said with more fluff in the language but the message was the same. Over and over again. Reiterated in an algorithm that I had no idea was manipulating my experience.

My birth plan morphed into a wish list. Douala, UppaBaby Stroller, Golden Hour, Delayed Cord Clamping, low lighting with music, water birth, baby pushes itself out because I’ve prepared my body with Raspberry Leaf Tea and Dates, family visits, stays the appropriate amount of time and follows the exact script we’ve curated for them to give us the perfect moment, etc…. Imagine my frustration as, one by one, each part of my plan failed to meet my expectations. A Douala was not in our budget. The UppaBaby we purchased was promptly returned as we opened it only to realize it was just a fancy stroller… I was induced. Given the dreaded Pitocin. Had a failed epidural. Pushed for 3+ hours in intense pain. Family visited and did not follow the script so I cried and cried.

As I turned to the internet for comfort and reassurance that my emotions were valid, I received a strong Instagram diagnosis of trauma. Birth trauma. Family trauma. Marriage trauma. The trigger, buzz word was everywhere, convincing me that my child’s birth plan going array was something to be grieved. And I did. For weeks I replayed all the things that didn’t follow the posts I read. Then, in a night of a hormonal roller coaster ride, my husband and I hit a breaking point and let alllll our feelings out. It wasn’t mean or heated, it was just raw and honest. I heard him and he heard me. I turned off the internet and turned towards the support systems in my life.

Listening to the advice of mothers that came before me was difficult at first. I was internally defensive but outwardly polite. I knew my baby best and didn’t need to hear how anyone else did things that were “outdated”. But like all karma, the universe humbled my maternal arrogance with a feisty, colicky and beautifully strong-willed Velcro baby. She refused to sleep and at 3 months old looked at me with bright blue, judgmental eyes. I tried to stay positive and in control but the mama’s around me could see right through it. Why? Because they had been there themselves. Maybe in different ways or with different issues, but the look of desperation I was emitting, it was all too familiar for them. I started to realize, the cut you off at your knees baby years, it connects all mothers. We may have updated, safer and healthier practices, but at our core, mother’s have the same love and care for their children.

Everyone does the best they can with what they have been given. Listening to the advice of other mom’s gave me perspective. When I became more confident in my abilities as a mom, I saw advice as a form of love, not oversteps. My mom and mother-in-law were not adding to “trauma”, they were expressing their motherly love. I didn’t need to put their advice into action in order to validate their care and support. I could let go of some expectations to receive help and support. We are all figuring out motherhood as we experience it in real time. If something finally clicks and I share it, its in the hope that it can support another mother. Im still careful not to offer unsolicited advice but I do think we need to give older generations some grace. When motherhood humbles you, cooperate with those trying to help. Otherwise, all you may be left with is the internet.