Unwelcome Wisdom

Photo courtesy of Lindsay Cournia

If I had a diaper for every time someone looked over at my drooling baby—fist in her mouth like a literal knuckle sandwich—and said, “You know, I think she might be teething,” as if the thought had never occurred to me, I’d have enough of them to absorb the entire Nile River, along with all of Alice’s urine and drool for the remainder of her diaper-wearing, drool-producing days.  Some even start making presumptuous suggestions for soothing her gums, like, “Do you have a teething ring?  You know there are some you can cool in the fridge,” and “You know there’s a gel you can get to numb her gums.”  I just smile politely as possible and tell them, “Yes.  I have those items in my diaper bag.  Thank you.”  Oftentimes, I’m surprised the person doesn’t dive at my hip and start digging through all the pockets by the look they give me when I go back about my business.  It’s at that point when I start to consider taking the delicious knuckle sandwich away from my baby so I can share it with my new friend...  

OK, so I’ve never quite gotten to that point, but since having Alice—especially in the first four months of her life—I’ve discovered that some people really do like to offer their two cents regarding the care of a baby when no cents were asked for.  I guess that’s what you’d call nonsense.  There have been many times when, just because Alice didn’t drink from her bottle immediately, settle down as soon as I picked her up, or fall asleep the moment I swaddled her, that someone has swooped in, seemingly out of nowhere, to “rescue” me (and baby) with their ground-breaking expertise.  You’d think a little bit of crying could kill her.

My heroes look quite pleased with themselves as they jostle my hijacked child, like they truly believe they’ve done their good deed for the day by helping the helpless first-time mom.  Little do they know they’re being reluctantly humored. 

Such instances leave me feeling disturbed and perturbed—disturbed because they indicate I’m being watched more closely than I want, and perturbed because the hawks never just give me the chance to do my thing, which I know is going to work, even if there’s a little bit of fussing initially.  I know this because I’d already been caring for my baby—oh, her day in, day out, since the moment she was birthed from my loins.  

Some people (okay, I’m just going to say women, because it’s always women) have even argued with me over Alice’s needs, insisting that she’s been hungry, or tired, or that her gums have been causing her excruciating pain when, in reality, they don’t have the first clue as to when the last time was that she ate, or slept, or chewed on her fingers with even the slightest sign of suffering (which has pretty much been never).

Another thing I can’t stand is when these ladies take advantage of my baby’s preverbal state by mimicking her budding voice to express their unsought thoughts, as if by doing so, it’ll mask the fact that they’re trying to enlighten or disagree with me.  Nice try.  Well, not really, because it’s very obvious. 

I resent this copout for communication even more than outright arguing.  I resent it because my baby is not a puppet.  It feels exploitive towards her, belittling to me, and especially cowardly of them.  Besides, if Alice could talk, she wouldn’t be saying any of the things they make her say.  And she wouldn’t talk in such annoying voices.  She’d sound much cuter, and she’d be saying, “Leave my mommy alone!” 

Sometimes I get so flustered and overwhelmed in these instances—especially if it’s a group of women making the suggestions—that I’m tempted to throw the baby at them and take off, saying something like, “You think you can do better?  Well, here ya go!”  Thankfully, I haven’t done that, but there have been times when I’ve abruptly stood up, announced a sudden urge to pee, and thrust Alice in the direction of their astonished faces before stalking off to the bathroom to let the red drain from my cheeks and forehead. 

Now I understand why so many people gave me cryptic reminders about a mother knowing best and needing to follow her instincts when I was on the brink of becoming a mom.  They said these things with a gentle hand on my shoulder and an earnest look in their eyes.  Although I found their message somewhat mystifying at the time, I understand now.  And I’m so thankful that they planted those seeds of reassurance in my uncomprehending, pre-parent brain, because, if they hadn’t, I would’ve had a much rockier time settling into my role as a mother.  I would’ve been questioning my abilities as a caregiver constantly, rethinking every little decision—from the brand of diapers I chose to the time I introduced solid foods—and rearranging Alice’s schedule repeatedly in an effort to satisfy the varying philosophies of my uninvited advisors.  And as anyone who’s raised a baby knows, that wouldn’t have worked very well.

You’d think these women would lay off as soon as they picked up on my resistance, but many of them continue to push, even after I’ve made it a point to be direct.  It can be hard to tell whether they’re being flat-out disrespectful or if they really just don’t get it.  If I consider the fact that some people get all googly-eyed and gaga in the presence of a baby, it’s easier to give them the benefit of the doubt.  

If only I could read their minds—if I could get behind their brusque behavior and into their hidden motives.  If I knew, for instance, that, deep down, all a person really wanted to do was to snuggle her–even if it was to satisfy an emotional need—then I wouldn’t have such a hard time handing my baby into their overbearing arms.  I could put up with her schedule getting temporarily tampered with if it meant giving that person a special gift—if, by soothing her, they actually soothed themselves. 

And rather than being the bossy know-it-alls that I assume them to be, it could be the case that some of these women truly are sincere in their efforts to help.  When they cross through my boundaries to give me a hand, they may be thinking back to their own days as first-time mothers, when perhaps they were too shy to ask for help.  Maybe they’re just telling me things they wish others had told them, and seeing my situation as an opportunity to “do unto others as you would have them do unto you” (Luke 6:31).  Of course, it would help if they took the context into consideration before putting The Golden Rule into play, but I suppose I can look past that.

In my heart and my mind, I know I need to have more grace with these ladies.  Taking a guess at their motives prompts me to take a deeper look at my own inner workings—to ask why that suggestion or that gesture vexed me so much.  Was it because I felt threatened?  Was it because of pride?  Or was it because I wanted that person to simply enjoy my company rather than using our time together as an occasion to educate me?

Whatever the reason, one thing I’ve had to acknowledge through this entire, eye-opening season has been that, oftentimes, the very tips that turned me off to begin with eventually do find their way back into my parenting.  My pride hates to admit it, but it’s the truth.  It’s a matter of fact that if I had completely rejected every obnoxious suggestion these people made, I would’ve been guilty of throwing the baby out with the bathwater, and no one wants to be in that position.

On the rare occasion that someone says or does something that actually is just plain old out of line, it helps me to remember that, at the end of the day, it’s going to be just me, my husband, and Alice settling in for the night in our cozy apartment, and no matter what that person may have said or done or even thought, it won’t matter, because they aren’t going to be the ones calling the shots and wiping the snot.  I am.  And I can honestly say I’m up for that.