Mom Council

This week, the Suffield Patch Moms Council answers this question:

If you could send a letter back in time to give yourself advice right after you became a parent for the first time, what would that advice be?

Sherry Paquette

If I could go back in time and give myself advice after the birth of my first child, I would urge that young mother to be truly present as a parent and be true to herself as a mother.

To be absolutely and entirely present as a parent takes on many forms as our children grow. I was proud of myself for choosing to breastfeed. I was young and modern and knew that this was the best choice for my child. Off I would go to the lake or the beach or on a hike with my bundle of joy snuggled into his pack on my chest. I didn’t worry about sterilizing bottles – this fit my lifestyle and was healthy for the baby.

Yet, I would often stress over family and friends who totally disagreed with my choice and made this known. I would downplay and minimize my actions. I would think of ways to not have anyone be made uncomfortable or inconvenienced in any way by my belief system.

All this energy put towards molding myself to the thought process of others was not being true to me as a parent and pulled me from being present in my journey of motherhood.

We all know how commendable it is to suit up each and every day for this monumental task of parenting. To suit up with spit up on your sweatshirt from the baby you are burping and still find the joy in the music your toddler is creating on the pots and pans he has scattered all over the kitchen floor … that is being actually present in the moment.

The thoughts of “What if someone stops by NOW?!” need to be batted away like malaria-infested mosquitoes.

It is Thanksgiving – early in the morning and my children are coloring at the kitchen table. I am feverishly vacuuming the living room and scrubbing fingerprints off of everything in preparation for the WHOLE FAMILY coming for dinner at noon. I am proud that I can do it all – raise the kids, work and entertain.

Above the roar of the dirt suctioning I hear something thud loudly and you scramble to kitchen. There are my boys, making a chocolate cake – piles of cake mix on the floor along with a mixing bowl, spoons and the carton of smashed eggs. The boys look up and one says “We are making dessert for the ‘giving’ day!” My advice to that young mom would be to take that few minutes and let the boys help to make some kind of dessert for the ‘giving day’ (and pick up the mess later – they will be distracted in ten minutes and doing something else).

It seems like everyone is full of tremendous amounts of advice when you start on your parenting journey. The crotchety mail carrier sees you walking up and down your driveway with your colicky baby and tells you it is best to let him cry himself to sleep. At the restaurant, the lady with frosted hair and nicotine-stained fingers holding on to her goblet of scotch lets you know that “In my day we didn’t bring children out to restaurants.” At preschool, the mom dressed in a tailored suit and three-inch heels lets you in on her secret as to why HER child isn’t clinging to her legs as she walks out the door. “I spend weekends and vacations with my husband and friends and my babysitter is on speed dial.”

People mean well, even if their advice is unwarranted. Young parents need to evaluate what is best for them and their children. Believe in yourself and your kids and try very hard to appreciate every single moment you spend with these precious creatures. Get down on the floor and play. Get out in the driveway and shoot some hoops. Listen to their gripes and anxieties. Be firm and patient. Most of all, be present and be true to yourself as a parent.

Cami Beiter

Should I be brutally honest or make up an appropriate, G-rated answer? Since I’m not very good with fluff and frills, honesty normally works. I won’t bore you with potty-training techniques, diaper creams or resolving the tantrum-infested toddler.

My letter-in-time to my younger self would state, “Not everyone thinks your baby is as perfect as you do.”

When I see young mothers try and out-do one another at Starbucks, I want to lean over, request a decrease in vocal pitch and plead for them to cut down on the ridiculous baby stories. Not everyone wants to hear about wet vs. “poopy” diapers or how their child is the most gifted preschooler in three counties. If you’re going to talk, at least make it a bit more realistic. Talk about hating the husband for not helping with the 3 a.m. bottle... or how your perfect baby vomited all over you while on a plane to Florida... or how gorgeous the pediatrician is... anything!

The people in your immediate area will look, smile and nod. They aren’t nodding and smiling in sentiment...they’re nodding and smiling at your visible credulousness. But, we will continue to nod, knowing that one day, you too will glance at a mother that once shared your neurosis.

I used to be that new mother in Starbucks, baby fresh, clean clothes, fretting over each coo and smile. What I dared not testify to were random hormonal mood swings, lack of sleep, engorged breasts from nursing and sore body parts from passing a watermelon.

After I had my first child, I subliminally knew women had been having babies since the beginning of time. But my classified reasoning was that no other woman's experience had topped mine. My pregnancy was the only one that mattered. My baby was the most beautiful. I was special.

It wasn’t until a few months had passed that I realized I’m like every other grocery-carriage-toting female... pushing a cart full of groceries, nervously scrambling for a bottle while Rosemary’s Baby screams for nourishment. It’s at that moment you realize; you and your baby are no different than everyone else in the checkout line.

I can confidently say this now. My oldest is nearly 15, my middle child is 12 and my youngest is 10. These hands haven’t changed a diaper in eight years. I have dreams of being the old lady in the park yelling at screaming children – like Old Mother Hubbard, post-menopausal with severe hot flashes and no air conditioning.

Even if the me of the past had received a letter from the present-day me with this parenting advice, I probably wouldn’t have taken it. When that first bout of reality opens your eyes like cold water, on an even colder day, maybe you too will fondly look upon freshman mothers. Whether your look comes from shared sentiment or the identification of neurosis, remember to smile and nod.

Lisa Coatti

This week, a very close friend of mine just experienced the amazing joy of the birth of his first child. I look at the pictures of his new baby boy, in his striped hospital blanket and knit cap, and I am suddenly transported back 10 years to the birth of my son. I am a little jealous of them, because that moment, that joy, relief, exhaustion and avalanche of emotions that are attached to a birth are so magical but so fleeting. If I could give myself a letter, one from my now wiser self to my pre-child self, I think it would go something like this.

Dearest Me,

You are no longer pregnant, so please enjoy this extra-large Mimosa as a gift from me. We earned it.

With the arrival of your little one you will need to face the fact that your life will change indefinitely. You will lose control. Your incessant need to be on time will now lose out to a last-minute spit up, a messy diaper or over-sleeping because you were up all night with a crying baby. This is OK. Do not stress about these things. The world will not fall out of orbit if you are five minutes late.

As noted above, your bundle of joy has taken control and your life is no longer your own. In fact, you will find yourself stressing a lot because you will try to maintain your pre-baby existence and that is not possible. Take my advice; you have now started a new life and a new you. You will not be able to be the master of everything, but you will find your niche and your rhythm and many new experiences and opportunities will appear where you would least expect them. You need to stop fighting change and just go with the flow. It will be an amazing new journey.

Be advised, babies grow up faster than you could ever imagine. This is a short period in your hopefully long life. Take this time to be all you can be for your little one. Put them first right now because they need you to hold them and nurture them and most of all love them. If they start life with this solid and loving environment, they will be able to tackle the future they will face. Feel free to sit and hold your baby for as long as you both need.

Stop staring at the dirty dishes in the sink. Baby doesn’t care. Admit your weaknesses. Call on others when you need help, don’t feel bad – people like to help. Everyone will be happy to hold your baby so you can shower, step out for fresh air or just close your bedroom door for a minute of quiet. No one will think less of you and your baby will appreciate your calm self.

 Finally, if your baby turns out to be colicky, before you lose your mind with all the advice and tears and frustration, just turn on the vacuum and leave it on right next to the crib. It seems to calm them down for some reason. When the vacuum blows the motor due to being left on for excessive lengths of time, a blow dryer is a good back up. Oh, and avoid buying any cute but complicated baby suits or dresses when your baby is less than six months old. Babies don’t sit up and those outfits just look silly and uncomfortable.

Best of luck with your little boy. You will be a great mom, you will certainly make some mistakes, but he will love you with all his heart.

Love and Kisses…your Future Self.

P.S. you look great so don't fret, you will be able to button your pre-pregnancy jeans again, but probably not this week.

Wendy Pierman Mitzel

My experience wasn’t your typical “bringing home baby” story.

Pregnant with twins, I was admitted to the hospital on bed rest and the boys were born 10 weeks early and in severe distress.

Months later when they did come home, oxygen tanks and monitors came too – along with appointments for cardiologists, audiologists, pediatric urologists and developmental specialists.

Those days were fraught with worry and information overload. I depended on so many people around me to tell me what to do, I often ignored my instincts and made decisions or delayed decisions I wish I would have acted upon.

So if anything, I would remind myself to trust my instincts. To listen to that inner voice that told me to push back.

When I did, I found that I was often right, or at least headed in the right direction.  As a parent, I felt I knew my child best, but I didn’t always listen to myself.

And when I say to trust parental instincts, I don’t mean to do so blindly. Information is key to making good decisions, whether from books or friends or specialists. But in the end it often comes down to listening to your gut.

If I could get a hold of my former self and tell her a few things specifically, they would include:

“When doctors continue to tell you your son will outgrow those ear infections, don’t accept that and push for more testing.”

“When the teachers say it’s better for twins to be separated but you are nearly sick over it, demand to have it your way.”

Besides those two things, I would give myself a big hug and look myself in the eyes.

“You’re doing great!” I would say. “You’re doing great.”

Because parenting, no matter how many books you read or people you talk to, is a job allotted to the best person for the job. You just have to trust yourself.