Thursday, April 21, 2011
I'm not a parenting expert. I don't play one on TV. I don't pretend to be one. Everyone around me is, however. When you are pregnant or have children, these "helpers" crawl out of the woodwork. They assume I am completely unprepared to raise a child and feel obligated to point out the most obvious things. I have been around children. I have read books. I've spoken to parents. I prefer to follow my own maternal instincts and the advice of my O.B. and pediatrician. I have been told what stroller to buy, how to dress and feed my children. If I wanted to raise a lot of children, I would have more children. I'm too busy raising my children to tell you how to raise yours. I'm no hero. If I need help or have questions, I'm the first person to speak up. When I had my first child, I had mastitis three times and post-partum depression (a lovely combination). My dad was called in to drive me to the doctor several times. He ran errands and brought me food. With the 3rd round of mastitis, I called my sister-in-law, made her leave work, drive me to the doctor, put me to bed, fill my prescription, feed and change my infant.
When friends get pregnant, I have a list of products I recommend. I also send them a chart my husband made to keep track of eating, sleeping and nursing. I'm happy to answer questions but I do not presume that anyone is incompetent and needs my advice unless asked directly.
Having said all this, I'm still sometimes shocked that God decided I would be a good parent and gave me 2 wonderful children. He must truly have an interesting sense of humor.