I am going to have MY fifth baby in June, and my husband and I often get the same comments, as well. My favorite one-liner for folks who like to ask "Don't you know how that happens?" is to tell them, "Yeah, but we're going to keep trying until we make an ugly one!" That usually shuts them up pretty well, lol!
On the topic at hand...I guess the reason people feel the need to comment about choices in labor management (heh heh, love that phrase) is simply because they just don't understand how or why someone would WANT to feel pain. They misunderstand, imo. It's not so much wanting to feel pain (hey, I ain't nuts! lol), it's -for me, at least-hating the numbing effects of an epidural, or the whacked out feeling you get from other painkillers. It leaves you in a haze, and unable to focus, or in the case of an epidural, you can't feel well enough to push effectively sometimes. Pain can be instructive, imo. I'm skipping the epi this time. :)
Childrearing is a very personal thing, and it seems like sometimes if folks take a different approach than you, it's a commentary (and not a flattering one, oftentimes) on the way you choose to raise your children. It can be really hard on first-timers, since everyone assumes you are just ignorant and can't possibly know what you are doing. Well, it's true, lol, but we all stumble along as best we can. Heck, I still call my mom for advice from time to time! Gobucks, just try to ignore the busybodies...you'll be much happier, even though it's easier said than done, I know.:)
Speaking of new moms versus somebody that's got a few notches in their belt already, here is a great article written by Danielle Bean (she wrote the book "My Cup of Tea: Musings of a Catholic Mom). She also at times has articles in the Catholic magazine Faith and Family. Enjoy -----
Seasoned Moms
When I first got into the “family” business years ago, I read scores of books and familiarized myself with every aspect of child development. I knew exactly what to expect from each of my children during every stage of their growth. None of my reading, however, prepared me for my own development as a mother, which is equally dramatic.
It all starts with the firstborn, when a woman begins as a New Mom. This early stage of development is characterized by a jittery nervousness exacerbated by lack of sleep and hormonal surges.
A New Mom commits random acts of boiling and bleaching. She makes certain that the pattern on her baby’s spit-up cloth matches the diaper bag, stroller, car seat, and, in extreme cases, the swing. She purees sweet potatoes and changes the baby’s onesie every time he hiccups or drools.
With a few years or a few more children, however, we all end up as what I like to call a Seasoned Mom. A Seasoned Mom is distinguished by her wider hips and thicker skin. She has abandoned overstuffed diaper bags in favor of a simple tote carrying the “essentials”- a diaper, a pacifier, and her wallet. She can “bathe” a mob of children with a single baby wipe. When a child vomits, she scarcely looks up from her piles of laundry to say, “Try to do it on the linoleum, Honey. It wipes up better.”
Mothers in different stages of development should mingle with caution. In the eyes of a New Mom, a Seasoned Mom can appear just plain nuts.
I should know. I remember the rainy day when I, as a New Mom, visited a mother of seven.
Every corner of the house was overflowing with what seemed like thousands of raucous children. The Seasoned Mom cleared a heap of muddy rubber boots and grungy sneakers from the floor, spread a tattered baby blanket on the stain-spotted carpet, and invited me to set the baby down to play.
As my daughter lunged toward the floor, I explained that she preferred to be held.
In the next minute, a wet dog barreled into the room, knocked over a stack of Sesame Street videos and sniffed at the baby I held above my head. Shooing him off, I stooped to pick up the videos and was horrified to discover a toddler snacking on stale Cheerios under the sofa.
I tried to sweep up the Cheerios, but my friend stopped me.
“The nice thing about messes,” she winked at me, “is that they wait for you. I’ll get organized when the kids are grown!”
I was not amused. I caught a glimpse of my developmental destiny that day and was terrified. Dan and I wanted a large family, but in the midst of that chaos I remember thinking, “I don’t want to live this life.”
Today, as a mother of six, I do try to maintain some semblance of order, but my standards have changed drastically. My days of boiling pacifiers and nursing a baby propped up by twelve different sofa cushions are long behind me. I cringe to think what a New Mom might think if she stepped into my house.
For the most part, though, I prefer “seasoned” motherhood. After all, with the seasoning comes the flavor. By letting go of perfectionism, we become free to be the real wives, mothers, and women God intended us to be. Seasoned Moms have discovered what really matters- and what doesn’t.
Last summer at a park, I sat at a picnic table chatting with a mother of six while her 2-year-old son played contentedly in the grass at our feet.
Another woman interrupted us.
“Excuse me,” she said. “But your little boy is eating potato chips off the ground.”
Looking up we saw the woman’s immaculately clean diaper bag that matched her immaculately clean baby’s immaculately clean carrier seat.
My friend thanked her for telling us and picked up her son- until the New Mom was gone. Then, laughing, she put him back down, saying, “Those chips are probably the cleanest thing he’s had in his mouth all day!”
“Don’t worry about her,” I answered as the New Mom disappeared into the economy car parked next to our vans.
“She’ll season with time.”
© 2004 Danielle Bean