I have decided that I should become a nomad and live in an extended family community. Actually this is not true. But over the last week I have been sorely tempted. We spent 3 days back in Liverpool, where both my parents and my in laws live, over the Easter weekend. Baby blue behaved like a little cherub almost the whole time. There were lots of new things to look at, dribble on and put into his mouth. There were scores of people desperate to be the next one to cuddle him, play with him, show him the flowers in their gardens and put him back to sleep. I love that he is so sociable and happy to be passed around (until the separation anxiety kicks in in a few months' time), but I am slightly distressed that everybody now thinks he is a fantastically easy baby and I am generally moaning about nothing when I complain that he can be clingy, bored and grumpy.
Since coming home, obviously, he has been clingy, bored and grumpy. But to be fair to the boy, I've had some empathy training over the last few days. I've had a nasty infection in the gum over my impacted wisdom tooth, and it's surprising just how grumpy a bit of toothache can make you. He's been a lot more settled today, probably because I didn't stop moving - 10am coffee at a friend's house, followed by Ikea and lunch there, followed by another coffee in Borders with another friend, followed by the doctors' and the pharmacy. He just likes new places. Maybe he's going to be an explorer...
Thursday 16 April 2009
Wednesday 1 April 2009
negative voices
It all started this morning when a friend dropped by to lend me a baby door bouncer... My elderly next door neighbour said hello to her and her 1 year old daughter, and she mentioned that it was a lovely day for gardening. He then said pointedly to me, "Yes, did you hear that? it is a lovely day for gardening."
Now our next door neighbour is a retired man (normally really lovely), and obsessed with his garden. As far as I can tell, he spends most of every day out there, despite his fairly advanced lung disease, and it is always pristine and beautiful in every season. Our garden, on the other hand, is a little rough around the edges. It has a wild unmown section at the bottom, which is a deliberate choice to give bees etc some habitat, but I sense he's not too keen on that feature, since some weeds grow there. The beds mostly have easy care perrenials in, because that's all I had time for at the best of pre-baby times. And ok the lawns haven't been mown yet this year, and things have gone a bit "to seed" since the pelvic pain kicked in halfway through pregnancy. But in my opinion it looks presentable. Compared to two and a half years ago when we bought the house and the plot was half rubble, half bed full of weeds, it's practically an oasis.
What was really disturbing was what that simple jokey comment, (which I may have totally read too much into), did to the rest of my day. I was instantly torn between paranoia (oh no he thinks I'm a terrible neighbour and inadequate housewife, gallivanting off to baby groups all week without attending to my own back garden) and anger (doesn't he understand what it's like having a new baby to take care of and how difficult it is to even keep the house clean?). I became unable to focus on the conversation with my friend after she came into the house, even though she dismissed him as a cheeky old man, and then I began to feel bad that I was coming across as scatty and absent and not in control. We talked a little about it at the end, and she said to me as she left "You're doing a great job. Hear that." But sadly this was no use. The negative comment had sunk into my brain somehow and was blocking all positivity out.
By the time I set off for my breastfeeding support group, my brain was a storm of negative voices. I spent the pleasurable sunny walk across the park thinking about my choices as a mother, and spiralling down into self-doubt. I began thinking about what will happen when I go back to work. Currently I'm planning to complete my training working half time, and then get a permanent job with even less sessions than that, if possible. I started hearing the (mostly male) voices of my colleagues at my current practice, who already feel that a year of maternity leave is an extended holiday and that I won't remember anything when I get back. Soft option they were saying to me, don't you care about your career? don't you want your son to go to private school like our children? don't you want to be a partner? Then my paranoid version of my parents voices started, You need to give your time to your child, they grow up so fast... and Christians I have read books by if you have the means you should give up work, God intended mums to look after their children. I began to feel that I will be giving both baby blue and my work less than my best. Next I began to worry what mr me was feeling about me, and projected onto him the view that I spend all week having fun and coffee with my friends, while he slaves away at work. Then I started wondering what other mums think of me, and whether they see me as a failure because baby blue is still in disposables and still has to be cuddled to sleep for his daytime naps. Then my childless friends - do they think I've turned into an antisocial baby bore? Then my own judgements on me - I forgot to clean his tooth again this morning, maybe he'll grow up with tooth decay... I didn't realise he was hungry for half an hour of grumpiness, maybe he's not growing as well as he should be because I don't feed him enough.... You get the general idea.
Fortunately the thought bog was stopped when I got to baby cafe by an hour of chatting to fellow mums, venting my frustrations re the next door neighbour, and feeling a little more that everyone's in the same boat i.e. we're all doing our best. This evening has cheered me up even more, with some affirmation from mr me, and an 8pm decaf vanilla latte at Borders, accompanied by some Marie Claire reading while he kindly manned the baby monitor at home. However, just typing out these frustrations and insecurities and (mostly unfairly attributed) opinions of others has already put a bit of a weight back into my chest.
What really annoys me is that I am still this vulnerable and weak. I was chatting with some church friends last week and bitching about the fact that most church seminars and days for women seem to keep reinforcing the same point - that you are accepted and valued by God, you are His daughter, His princess, you don't have to worry what others think of you. I implied that I'd got that by now, I'd heard it enough times, couldn't they move on to something meatier? Not all women were seething masses of insecurity, I said. Well maybe they're not, but sadly, and mortifyingly, it seems that I still am. I still need this message to sink from my head to my heart. I know this needs more prayer. I know I also need practically to learn to let little comments bounce off me, especially as society seems to judge mums for every choice that they make. I'll never be able to do everything and please everybody. I need to learn to be happy and confident in our family choices and in doing my best. But how? Does anyone have any more tips on how to beat the guilt, insecurity and self doubt that being a mum seems to exponentially increase?
Now our next door neighbour is a retired man (normally really lovely), and obsessed with his garden. As far as I can tell, he spends most of every day out there, despite his fairly advanced lung disease, and it is always pristine and beautiful in every season. Our garden, on the other hand, is a little rough around the edges. It has a wild unmown section at the bottom, which is a deliberate choice to give bees etc some habitat, but I sense he's not too keen on that feature, since some weeds grow there. The beds mostly have easy care perrenials in, because that's all I had time for at the best of pre-baby times. And ok the lawns haven't been mown yet this year, and things have gone a bit "to seed" since the pelvic pain kicked in halfway through pregnancy. But in my opinion it looks presentable. Compared to two and a half years ago when we bought the house and the plot was half rubble, half bed full of weeds, it's practically an oasis.
What was really disturbing was what that simple jokey comment, (which I may have totally read too much into), did to the rest of my day. I was instantly torn between paranoia (oh no he thinks I'm a terrible neighbour and inadequate housewife, gallivanting off to baby groups all week without attending to my own back garden) and anger (doesn't he understand what it's like having a new baby to take care of and how difficult it is to even keep the house clean?). I became unable to focus on the conversation with my friend after she came into the house, even though she dismissed him as a cheeky old man, and then I began to feel bad that I was coming across as scatty and absent and not in control. We talked a little about it at the end, and she said to me as she left "You're doing a great job. Hear that." But sadly this was no use. The negative comment had sunk into my brain somehow and was blocking all positivity out.
By the time I set off for my breastfeeding support group, my brain was a storm of negative voices. I spent the pleasurable sunny walk across the park thinking about my choices as a mother, and spiralling down into self-doubt. I began thinking about what will happen when I go back to work. Currently I'm planning to complete my training working half time, and then get a permanent job with even less sessions than that, if possible. I started hearing the (mostly male) voices of my colleagues at my current practice, who already feel that a year of maternity leave is an extended holiday and that I won't remember anything when I get back. Soft option they were saying to me, don't you care about your career? don't you want your son to go to private school like our children? don't you want to be a partner? Then my paranoid version of my parents voices started, You need to give your time to your child, they grow up so fast... and Christians I have read books by if you have the means you should give up work, God intended mums to look after their children. I began to feel that I will be giving both baby blue and my work less than my best. Next I began to worry what mr me was feeling about me, and projected onto him the view that I spend all week having fun and coffee with my friends, while he slaves away at work. Then I started wondering what other mums think of me, and whether they see me as a failure because baby blue is still in disposables and still has to be cuddled to sleep for his daytime naps. Then my childless friends - do they think I've turned into an antisocial baby bore? Then my own judgements on me - I forgot to clean his tooth again this morning, maybe he'll grow up with tooth decay... I didn't realise he was hungry for half an hour of grumpiness, maybe he's not growing as well as he should be because I don't feed him enough.... You get the general idea.
Fortunately the thought bog was stopped when I got to baby cafe by an hour of chatting to fellow mums, venting my frustrations re the next door neighbour, and feeling a little more that everyone's in the same boat i.e. we're all doing our best. This evening has cheered me up even more, with some affirmation from mr me, and an 8pm decaf vanilla latte at Borders, accompanied by some Marie Claire reading while he kindly manned the baby monitor at home. However, just typing out these frustrations and insecurities and (mostly unfairly attributed) opinions of others has already put a bit of a weight back into my chest.
What really annoys me is that I am still this vulnerable and weak. I was chatting with some church friends last week and bitching about the fact that most church seminars and days for women seem to keep reinforcing the same point - that you are accepted and valued by God, you are His daughter, His princess, you don't have to worry what others think of you. I implied that I'd got that by now, I'd heard it enough times, couldn't they move on to something meatier? Not all women were seething masses of insecurity, I said. Well maybe they're not, but sadly, and mortifyingly, it seems that I still am. I still need this message to sink from my head to my heart. I know this needs more prayer. I know I also need practically to learn to let little comments bounce off me, especially as society seems to judge mums for every choice that they make. I'll never be able to do everything and please everybody. I need to learn to be happy and confident in our family choices and in doing my best. But how? Does anyone have any more tips on how to beat the guilt, insecurity and self doubt that being a mum seems to exponentially increase?
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