Doing the Mom Thing

     When I was 8 months pregnant I went for my afternoon walk, lugging around my 25 additional pounds with every labored step. As I turned the corner I was greeted by a mom pushing a stroller. “Hi,” she said. “How far along are ou?” “8 months,” I said. “How old is your baby?” “3 months,” she said. “Are you ready for childbirth?” she asked. What kind of a question is that, I wondered, and how do you answer that? “Are you going to give birth naturally?” she asked. “Probably not” I replied. She then went on to tell me the benefits of natural childbirth using phrases such as “it’s what women’s bodies were made for” and “it’s the best thing you can do for your baby.” Feeling dazed and overwhelmed by this new plethora of advice and expectations, I told her that I should be on my way. Upon seeing our new supposed friendship blossom, she said “We should get together, ya know, I’m just around doing the mom thing.”

     I continued my walk home contemplating what “the mom thing” entailed. If it included drug free childbirth and harassing pregnant women, I’m not sure I wanted to be a part of it. But did “the mom thing stop there?” The next morning I was greeted by some literature on natural childbirth on my doorstep. I felt like this was fast becoming some sort of religious cult trying to save me from my heathen belief in analgesics and epidurals.

     I decided that I too did “the mom thing” in my own way and I too had literature to guide me down the path of motherhood. The next morning I left a book on her doorstep, “Sippy Cups Are Not For Chardonnay”, a title that I felt clearly broke down parenting advice. Needless to say, I never heard from her again.

     When I delivered my daughter, it was a relatively easy delivery and pain free. With the epidural happily flowing through my veins and numbing my lower body, I delivered a beautiful baby girl. And yes, sometimes right after a good breastfeeding session, I have a few sips of chardonnay. And that is my version of “doing the mom thing”.