About a month ago, I arrived home and plopped a heavy Barnes and Noble bag on our dining room table. "What is this?" Ivan asked of my nearly $100 purchase. "Baby books," I replied. "Don't we have, like, 20 baby books already?" "No, we have 20 pregnancy books- these are books about what do do with the baby."
Ever the first-time parent cliche, Ivan and I are slightly clueless (and maybe a bit panicked) about what to do once we are wheeled out of the hospital and left to fend for ourselves with new little Baby H. I am left wondering, for about the billionth time in my life, how it is that you don't have to get certified to become a parent. I mean, I needed all sorts of documentation stating that I was competent to lead a bunch of ladies in a series of leg lifts at the gym. I have paperwork proclaiming that I can properly shake my booty to Zumba music. As a school teacher, we are put through a dozen trainings a year- some of which are informative and necessary (anti-bullying) and some of which are a waste of my money as a tax payer and time as a human being (allergens in the classroom). So while I can tell you how to breathe as you execute an abdominal exercise (on the most strenuous, lifting part), how to move your body to Cumbia music (leg alternating back and forth while wiggling your hips seductively), and how often classrooms should be dusted (twice a week minimum) and I have the certified documentation to back it up, I don't have the first idea about how to care for a baby and guess what? I get to have one anyway.
So into the world of child care education I have delved. Ivan and I are signed up for three classes in March at St. Peter's University Hospital where we'll be delivering: Child Care, Lamaze/Childbirth, and Breastfeeding. I am also excited to say that Thomas Sweet Ice Cream shop is right down the road from the hospital, as my mom, when she and my dad went to these classes three decades ago, decided that she needed a chocolate milkshake after each and every visit and I think that it would be just grand to carry on the tradition. We have been told by some that the classes are completely unnecessary and that the whole thing is the most natural process in the world. I'm just happy that Ivan and I are in the same, "No way- more information is always better because if there's a way to screw this up we're probably going to do it" camp because guess what? We're going.
But right there- therein lies the problem. It is impossible when starting a family to not get bombarded by well meaning but conflicting theories and practices. Even the two books I have read so far have vehemently disagreed with each other on some seemingly important points- and both appear to have substantial evidence to back up their claims. I'm talking about sleep schedules, demand vs. scheduled feedings, sleeping arrangements, pacifiers- yes or no? And let me tell you, if I read the word "nipple" one more time I honestly think I'm going to pass out. (On a side note, I had a dream about a week ago in which I gave birth to six babies. Well, I was pregnant with six but gave birth to the first three, as the next three considerately decided to stay inside while I adjusted to the first three. I must have dreamed for 2 straight hours that I was breastfeeding. I'd feed one, burp him or her, put him or her down and then travel down to the basement to get the next one and start the process over again. Why were the babies in the basement? I don't know. But this is why I need to get certified to become a mom- so I don't do that. Needless to say I woke up in a cold sweat.)
And of course every family member and friend who has had a child (and some who haven't yet) has an opinion on how things should be done. I have been quite lucky, I must say, that everyone has taken the "You have to do what's right for you" approach and has been respectful of the idea that Baby H is ours and so the decisions are ours to make. Even so, it is a tough predicament in that I desperately want and need advice so I will take all of the information I can get, but I don't want to offend anyone if I end up taking the exact opposite approach from theirs. There are some emotionally charged issues out there- spurred by the fact that everyone has the baby's best interest at heart. I have people in my life that fall towards the more extreme ends of parenting philosophies and people everywhere in between.
When it comes down to it, Ivan and I will probably be "in between-ers" but it's funny how at 2 1/2 months out I can already feel the pressure to choose a side. And I know that that pressure is coming largely from inside my own head, as no one in my life would ever want me to feel stress for not doing exactly as they did/do, nor do they probably care all that much. We're the ones that have to live with our baby at the end of the day, so if we want to put the baby in the basement, it's our choice. I'm just kidding!
Another way in which the stress of discrepancy has manifested is the Baby Registry. Some of you may know that I hate registering. I just feel like there is something awkward about picking out your own gifts and I honestly would rather not do it. But I seem to be in the vast minority when it comes to this mindset. And listen, I get it- it's more convenient for everyone else involved. Still, registering makes me feel like a toad. But register I did. Or at least I tried. See, I hated registering for my wedding- it gave me heart palpitations- and I know what you need for a house. I have no idea what you need for a baby. It has taken several trips to BabiesRUs for me to create some semblance of a list of things that I'm having a hard time imagining using. Wedding registries are easy- I've used plates before, I'll just get pretty ones. I know how to use a towel- I'll get fluffy ones. I have never used a nasal aspirator and I'm not really looking forward to it all that much.
The first trip into Baby Land was with my all-star team of ladies- my mom, Zandar, and Cecelia. They were much more excited than I was. We didn't buy anything, we just wandered around wide-eyed at the seemingly endless options spread before us. Cecelia and Mom took charge though, and before you knew it they were folding strollers with one hand and cooking omelets with the other while I tried to slow my breathing. All in all, it was a good first trip- just a way to wrap my mind around what we may need.
I may have even started registering during that trip except for the fact that Ivan insisted that he be present for the registering process. "Are you sure?" I asked, "That's what you said for the wedding and after 35 minutes you were so frustrated that you said I could do the rest myself." "Yeah, and it was the biggest mistake of my life," he replied, "because now we have silverware that is way too back heavy." (Yes, this conversation actually happened.) So, the following weekend it was off to Ikea for a dresser for Baby H's closet and then to BabiesRUs. And, wonder of wonders, 35 minutes into the baby store, Ivan was done. He was scanning things at a rate that would make you think we were on some bizarre version of Supermarket Sweep where the couple that can complete their registry the fastest wins a free case of diapers. Needless to say, I needed to do a lot of addition work online (including emailing him to find out how a stuffed guitar, among other things, ended up on there). Finally, a trip with my friend B helped me to navigate the vastly intimidating "Infant Care" section of the store and finish up. Honestly, if she had told me that I needed a dinglehopper (yes, that was a Little Mermaid reference!) I would have frantically tried to find one and scan it. That is how desperately I need the help of experienced moms.
So I'm reaching out for help in all types of places- the websites, the books, the magazines, the classes, some less than helpful t.v. shows, and the people in my life. But I'm trying to read and listen with a grain of salt, so to speak. I mean, you read these comments on these websites and realize that people can get heated just discussing what type of stroller is best. But I guess part of the fun (and if not fun, the rite of passage) is getting to make our own mistakes along the way. Just like anything else in life, you cannot shelter others from hardship by having gone through it yourself "for" them. I can't solve every new teacher's problems before they get in front of a class by relaying every lesson I learned the hard way. I can't help a student choose a college because I vetted out my options and found what was right for me. I can't help a single girlfriend find love because when I was single I had some mild success on eHarmony. And no one can save us from the trials of first-time parenthood because they have done it before. We all have to go through these things ourselves. In the words of the incomparable Alanis Morrisette, "You live, you learn/You love you learn/You cry you learn/You looooooooooooooose you learrrrrnnnnn."
So while I am slightly confused and bemused, I am largely happy right now to have the privilege to go thorough this process. Baby H is kicking up a storm and Ivan could hear him/her hiccup last night. A few nights ago he or she made me laugh so hard by jabbing me in what I guess is a ticklish rib over and over. He or she is the size of a butternut squash and we'll be 30 weeks along on Sunday- 3/4 of the way there! My toenails are painted Valentine Red and fingernails are Hot Cocoa- both make me exceedingly happy. Tomorrow I'm going for a pre-natal massage. Life is good.
If you'd like to throw your parenting suggestions my way, I'd be glad to have them. I can't promise I'll use them, but I can promise I'll respect them as coming from one of my favorite ladies in the world!
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