This is the third time I’ve reposted this little “essay.” The first time it was new, the second time I wanted to share it again since it really does feel like a pivotal moment for me as a mother. And now, the third time, it’s because I’ve never memorialized this moment on my new blog and I wanted to be able to link back to it!
When my daughter was born life turned upside down – literally. Delivery required far more medical intervention than I had expected and my vision of motherhood – rocking a contented baby, having hours just melt away while I watched her delicate little features in sweet slumber – couldn’t have been further from reality.
I’d pour a bowl of cereal at 8 AM and, if I was lucky, eat it by noon. The first few months were a haze of sleepless nights and days filled with tears (hers and mine) while we navigated infections, colic, and endless feeding challenges.
The biggest sticking point: I’d always planned to nurse my children. It was healthy, economical, convenient. It was also what a good mother would do. Not only did I want to do it, I was inundated by messaging that encouraged, championed, and elevated this aspect of mothering. I was also surrounded by mothers that could do it. Baby-hour at the library was basically a lesson in how to feed and nurture your little one naturally; you could find me wallowing in a corner covertly wielding a bottle.
I dealt with these things – as one does – by cycling through stages of denial, anger, depression, and pseudo acceptance (there wasn’t much bargaining to do; she was 2 months old). I researched techniques, bought supplements, and consulted experts. Eventually, I conceded defeat.
Spoiler alert: she got older, things got easier. By 9 months she was pure joy – full of all the spunk and personality we cherish today; happy and practically perfect in every way. Though the crying was behind us, guilt lingered. And then a new friend entered my life and managed to shift my entire perspective with one sentence.
This friend [it was Joy!] and I were out for an evening walk. Somehow I had circled back to discussions of feeling less-than because of my inability to naturally deliver and feed my (now toddler) daughter. This friend paused for a minute and said, wisely: “You know Elisabeth, she can still be a doctor.”
What she meant – and what I needed to hear – was that the future was unwritten. The unexpected complications of the past, which were completely out of my control, didn’t mean my daughter was doomed to a life of illness, missed opportunities, and continual disadvantages. No. If she wanted, she could still be a doctor. Or a stay-at-home mother. Or a physicist. Or an artist. Or a CEO. Or anything else her determined self wants to pursue.
When my son was born several years later, I met with a lactation consultant, did all the right things, and gave it my all for a week. When a nurse told me it simply wasn’t working and formula needed to be introduced…I cried. It was sad and hard and disappointing. But, I also knew: he can still be a doctor. Or a pro surfer. Or an electrician. Or a teacher, or a financial analyst, or a stay-at-home dad, or a playwright. The sky is the limit. No, it really is – after all, he could be an astronaut.
Your turn. Can you recall a quote or insight that had a dramatic impact in your life? What was it and who shared it with you?
Header photo by Marek Studzinski on Unsplash
Discover more from The Optimistic Musings of a Pessimist
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
mbmom11
My perspective shifting quote:
“Why not us?”
My husband had just cone to my hospital room where I was recovering from my c- section. He had followed our daughter down to the big city NICU in the middle of the night, and I waited to hear the update. He told me the doctors were pretty sure she had DS, which might be why she was so small and having issues.
After a bit, he said, “Why not us?” He figured out that we’d be great parents for a kid with special needs- we have a big supportive family, we’re smart and can do research, lots of siblings to provide good examples and lots of love.
And that’s where my perspective came into focus. (Look, I was a complete mess after anesthesia and being awake all night and not knowing what was going on.) So that quote put me in a good frame of mind.
Similarly, when I told a good friend about her diagnosis, my friend said, ” You got this” as of course you can handle this parenting challenge. Her confidence in me helped me get through sone wobbly times.
And right now, my husband’s quote came back, as we are the ones who figured out what condition she developed, fought to get doctor appointments, and found a specialist to confirm it.
Elisabeth
Thanks so much for sharing. What an incredible reframe.
I remember when we had a series of inconclusive scans during my pregnancy with Indy, the doctors tried to prepare me for various (admittedly scary) eventualities. It was hard but, also, I did realize that if a child was to be born with special needs, we would be able to provide them with love and support. God didn’t end up including that as part of our story (at this point at least), but it is a real perspective switch.
Thinking of you today, and so glad you are able to advocate on behalf of your daughter – what a tremendous gift of love you’re able to spread.
Kristin W
Growing up, my Dad was an engineer in the military and we moved and traveled a lot and he did a lot of neat and exciting things in his life. He inspired me to be an engineer as well. In contrast, his Dad (my Grandpa) after a short stint serving in the Korean War and then a year at the Steel Mill, became a mailman for the rest of his career. He had a walking route through neighborhoods and eventually worked his way up to his own neighborhood and had lunch in his own kitchen every day. I grew up believing that my Dad’s life was the goal: the travel and different places, different homes, exciting work and meeting all kinds of people. I think I was in my 20s when my Dad made the comment about his Dad “I wonder if he had the better life”. It kind of shocked me and I think about it all the time, that there is no “better” way to live a life. I ended up marrying someone with deep ties to his family and community and our children are the 4th generation to attend their school. We still travel a lot, but their entire childhood will probably be in a single house and they will have people in their lives who will know them at all different ages. It’s not better or worse, just different and it’s OK.
Elisabeth
This is huge: “It’s not better or worse, just different and it’s OK.” I think this is a very hard lesson to learn and understand. Contentment, staying true to oneself…it’s a lot harder than it sounds. So often we pursue a goal just because we think that’s what we “should” be doing to fit some cultural standard. In reality, it really is a case of different strokes for different folks.
Here’s to embracing our circumstances and for the bravery to make changes if we realize the current mold needs to be broken!
Kyria @ Travel Spot
I love this. Obviously I never have had to deal with the feelings that come along with it, but I think that as a human, I can understand the feeling of wanting things to be “perfect,” or wanting to do the best I can, and feeling disappointed when they are not, or I “don’t.” I struggle with that in relationships, as for some, most things are good enough, but I often want them to be better. Not that I am not happy, but I am disappointed in myself. I am my worst critic. I think looking at you, I would say that you are a great mother, and your kids are well balanced and caring and happy. To me, you have done a great job. Whether or not they were breastfed is not important in the grand scheme of things. I am glad Joy was there to give you some sage advice!!
Elisabeth
I think you hit the proverbial nail on the head with the “grand scheme” comment. It’s so easy to “major in the minors” – we focus on the things that aren’t really important. But at the time, especially in light of societal pressures and hormonal vulnerabilities, it felt like SUCH A BIG DEAL.
I am so, so glad Joy gave me that lifeline and I’ve treasured it ever since. I hope the time comes when I can give some young mother struggling with breastfeeding the same advice <3
I mean...I was formula fed from Day One, and I think I managed to bumble my way through life okay? 🙂
Also, thanks for such kind words about my parenting and the kids. We're flawed humans but we do our best and there is a lot of love in our house <3
Jenny
My perspective shifting moment: “Do the easiest thing first.” I was actually about to start typing out the whole story, but I’m actually thinking I’ll put it on the blog soon!
I remember this “she can still be a doctor” moment and I love it. It’s amazing when someone can make one comment that shifts your whole perspective, and you’ll remember it your whole life.
Elisabeth
Ohhh. I can’t wait to read this blog post, Jenny. I’m intrigued.
Love the idea of doing the easiest thing first. I don’t know where you’re going with it, but I’ve often reflected on something similar. Often the popular wisdom is to start with the HARDEST thing, but it can really help with momentum to pick off some low-hanging fruit. I never underestimate the surge of energy that comes from crossing something off my list.
I think one of the cool things is we don’t necessarily realize when someone has said something that will stay with us for life. And some just end up really sticking and having a long impact. (I have a few things I’ve heard in church before that are BRANDED into my brain; I didn’t realize at the time they would be quotes I’d think/talk about so frequently, but yet they are). I guess what I’m trying to say is there is a level of excitement of knowing that any day I could hear something that has a profound impact on my life! I find that exhilarating.
NGS
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix: “Yes, but the world isn’t split into good people and Death Eaters,” said Sirius with a wry smile.
I have had to remind myself of this almost daily since 2016. There are good people and really bad people, but most people are in between. And we have to deal with that. I used to think most people were good people. But that’s just not true. *sigh* Mine’s not as uplifting as yours is.
Daria
Thank you for this post. I agree with Kyria- you are such a wonderful mom and your kids look grounded, content, and healthy. Mine was “DO YOU” Time from 2015 to 2017 was spent in fertility treatments and being pregnant with L, 2018-2019 was L’s first years, breastfeeding, stopping breast feeding after 12 months and undergoing another two fertility treatments so we can have R. In 2020, I gave birth to R, breastfed him, and dealt with pandemic, while teaching remotely, battling postpartum depression, caring for a toddler, and having a baby. In 2021 I came to a realization that I lost myself in all of these processes. So “DO YOU” as if speaking to myself was used to find the road back to Daria and get to know her all over again.