Good Parenting

I had many expectations and fears before I had a child. I was afraid of health issues. I was afraid that he wouldn’t be cute. I was afraid I wouldn’t love him enough.

None of those fears came to fruition.

Instead my body and mind became overwrought with how to feed and put this baby to sleep. Babies are about feeding and sleeping and somehow I didn’t think about these things. My good friend gave me two books; one was The Art of Expecting and the other was The Incredible Truth About Motherhood.

The former was a small hardcover book that featured beautiful Sepia photos of pregnant bellies and blonde toddlers frolicking on the beach. The Motherhood book featured a polar bear and cub on the cover. The book, full of black and white photos of animals and their babies, was written by a man who is holding a rabbit in his author’s headshot on the inside flap.

What to Expect When You’re Expecting is like the New Testament to Dr. Spock’s Old Testament. I read it cover to cover and tried to follow its laws. When after what seemed like 24 hours of continuous breastfeeding, my 5-day-old baby was still wailing after I took him off the boob, I decided to put the book down.

A rebel, I decided to go on instinct. Instinct, that is, with a pediatrician’s blessing.

One of the biggest shocks came to me when I realized that our children physically fit us. My newborn son seemed to fit wholly within my small arms; they formed a perfect shield of protection around him. As he quickly grew into toddler-hood, his limbs dangled around my torso and he used to put his warm head onto my shoulder and fall asleep on me; his weight heavier with each breath and his heat transferring directly inside me. He fit completely.

Now he’s 6 and he goes to sleep easily on his own. For the 3 1/2 minutes that we play his goodnight song, John Lennon’s Beautiful Boy, I get to lay down next to him. He used to ask for it; now I ask him for it. He lets me hold him, more akin to spooning than anything else. He tries to fit with me on his twin bed – me and his 13 stuffed animals, 3 pillows and 2 blankets. I am the one that doesn’t fit in. I am the one that needs the cuddling – and he, at 6, is now the man that already gives it to me.

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This entry was posted on Wednesday, October 15th, 2008 at 6:10 am and is filed under Good Parenting.