By Jennifer Savage, 5-10-07
I’m thinking of becoming confrontational.
Not to the guy ringing me up at the Food Farm necessarily, or the neighbor whose dog wanders up to our house, but to people who deserve it.
I’ve always been a pretty easy-going person. I don’t pick fights, I try to smooth out uncomfortable situations when I see them coming. I will let people give me advice that I don’t want and don’t need because usually to stop them and disagree would be rude. I figure the conversation will be over in five minutes so I nod and continue doing what I would have done, ignoring their suggestions.
In the South we women are taught to play nice. We don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings or make them feel small. We don’t publicly ruffle feathers or humiliate. We call this respect. We call this graciousness. Just because we smile and take it all in doesn’t mean we’re taking whatever people want to toss us. When the time is right, the headstrong, determined, ain’t-takin’-nothin’-off-of-nobody streak – a lesser-known hallmark of the Southern woman – will emerge. And for me, I think the time is now.
Last week a woman I know hinted that she thinks I might be spoiling my daughter. I found myself stammering, trying to justify my decisions.
“Well, she doesn’t sleep with us really,” I said. “She sleeps in her crib but comes into our bed to nurse.”
“So she’s still nursing at night?”
“Yeah,” I said. “But only once or twice.”
I was caught off-guard, shocked someone would be so outright in their condemnation.
“She’s not going to stop until you make her,” she said. “Maybe it’s time to set some boundaries. Sounds like she’s pretty feisty, a little handful. She’s got you right where she wants you.”
I knew “feisty” and “handful” were socially acceptable code words for spoiled.
“But I think she’s hungry,” I said searching for something concrete to grab onto. “I want to feed her if she’s hungry.”
This woman just looked at me in clear disagreement. I smiled, made nice and walked away from the conversation feeling over indulgent. I also felt confused not only at her parenting suggestions but at her audacity. I’ve spent the last week questioning everything but mostly wondering what is it about my personality that makes people think it’s okay to talk to me that way. Do I put off a pushover vibe that people just can’t help but exploit? Do I have a flashing red sign over my head that says “Too Nice to Fight Back?” I don’t know what it is but when it comes to my kid, it stops here.
I was at a friend’s house the other night. This friend happens to be so good at respectfully standing up for herself that I think she should take it on tour. Around her kitchen table I cornered another friend and breastfeeding advocate. I asked her a few questions about milk supply and feeding solid food trying to gauge if she too thought I was being over-indulgent by continuing to feed my daughter at night.
“What is she eating now?” she said.
“Well, she nurses in the morning when she gets up,” I said then went on to explain the intricacies of Eliza’s eating schedule from cereal and fruit in the mornings to vegetables at night.
“Are you comfortable with the way it’s going?” she said.
“Yeah,” I said. “I guess I am. I just keep hearing that I should wean her night feedings so she’ll sleep through the night. I’m worried I’m spoiling her.”
“You can’t spoil a baby,” she said. “They can’t manipulate. I think what matters most is that you are comfortable with her eating. During these months, she’s learning how to eat solid food and getting everything she needs from you. If it makes you feel any better my baby still gets up to eat twice at night at he’s eighteen months old. You are not going to make her more dependent by continuing to feed her night.”
I took a deep breath. Her words were like salve to an open cut. She went on to tell me that studies have shown that parents who practice attachment parenting – which involves baby wearing and breastfeeding – have very independent children as a result. The theory goes that the child’s foundation is secure so they feel comfortable exploring beyond their parents.
“Trust your instinct,” she said.
It’s such a simple concept and one that we new mothers often forget. We’re inundated by advice – some well meaning, some not so much – and we want more than anything to do it right, to make sure our children are okay. And the fear and guilt that come from the newness of this endeavor make us vulnerable even to concepts that seem foreign, concepts that go against everything our gut is telling us.
And my gut is telling me that Eliza is just fine. She’s happy and growing strong. She is “feisty” and “a handful” sometimes. But would I really want it any other way? If she’s a strong-willed baby maybe she’ll be a strong-willed woman who knows what she wants and speaks up for it. Maybe she won’t have to think for a week about telling someone they are out of line, maybe she’ll do it respectfully and graciously like she’s seen her mama do many times.
Jennifer Savage writes about being a new mom on her own blog here on NewWest.Net. Read more from “Savagemama” at www.newwest.net/savagemama.
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I will offer you a phrase that I have found helpful.
"Thanks, but I wasn't asking for advice."
This baby is well under a year old, right? No way is it spoiling her to feed her when she's hungry. The person knocking you is just projecting her own issues onto your situation based on what she wishes to see about it. Ignore her.
Comment By matguy, 5-14-07The idea that a baby can be "manipulative" in any way is rooted in a form of parenting and an attitude toward children that I find repugnant.
Comment By Bob Wire, 5-23-07You're obviously an intelligent, compassionate woman with a sense of humor, Jennifer. A perfect combination of traits for motherhood. Your instincts are serving you just fine. I remember receiving lots of unsolicited advice when I told people my wife was pregnant. I threw it all out the window and relied solely on my own instincts and common sense. Guess what. Both kids are thriving, healthy people who bring joy to everyone around them. Barb gets the major props, of course, but I'm continually surprised at my inner 'papa bear' who rears his protective head when my kids appear to be threatened in any way.
So when anyone tells you, "wait till Eliza's a teenager," you can say, "don't worry, I won't make the same mistakes you did with your kids." Yuk yuk. Snort.