Children First

Diary of a Yale Mom

Children First

11-1-10



By the time I had my first child, Dr. Spock was out and Penelope Leach was in as the expert on raising children. Penelope and I became very good friends in the early morning hours when everyone I knew who had ever had a baby was sound asleep, unavailable for consultation. I would identify the symptom that I thought my child was experiencing, find it in the index, then look to see what I could possibly do to relieve the pain. Thankfully, I can read, but more importantly the advice always gave me an answer. For a new mother who had never even babysat for anyone in her entire life, the book was a resource that helped me feel more confident.



I am still in shock that in America, there is no requirement to take a class before having a baby. Most people seem to assume that having a baby comes with an innate operating manual. But I know many women for whom mothering does not come naturally. I want to explain this a little further because where I came from, if you wanted to attend an Ivy League college, you did not have free time in high school to babysit. I took at least five Advanced Placement courses in high school. I was the Business Editor for my high school yearbook. I played tennis and field hockey. I was also on the gymnastics team during my freshman and sophomore years until I tore a muscle doing the Chinese splits. Free time did not exist in my schedule. Babysitting was not on my list of things to do when I decided that I wanted to go to MIT, Yale or Harvard. I worked really hard. Nor as the baby in my family did I have younger siblings to take care of. So I never learned anything first-hand about caring for kids.



My more recent reading about parenting has shown me that research is only now beginning to decipher how a mother’s brain really works. I am no longer a scientist, but I’ve found some outstanding articles about the “mother gene”, fosB. Just google it and you will read some amazing information. So, legitimate research has shown that some people have the gene in tact, while other people have damaged fosB genes. If yours is in tact, then when your baby is born the gene turns on the nurturing part of your brain. “Mother Love” really is tied to a gene. I love science.



Good information occasionally comes from places other than books, too. Recently, I saw a report on television about memory loss after delivering a baby. After having three babies, I can testify from my own experience that motherhood memory loss is real. I have named it “Motherhood Amnesia (MA)”. I ask myself many times how I could have had more than one child after all the sleepless night and exhausted days. Forty-four hours of labor had exhausted me for months after the first baby was born, and my memory seemed never to quite get over the results of the exhaustion. The research now points to a valid reason for “MA”, and I like the preliminary conclusions.



Mothers have to make room in their brains for all the new information that they must store in order to take care of their newborns. Finally, there is a real answer to the seeming motherhood memory loss question. My mother-in-law had eight children and my grandmother had ten children.. They always forgot their children’s names. I used to wonder why they had such a hard time remembering where they parked their cars or left their keys. It’s MA.



Now that I have three children, I know that I have “lost” some of my memory. My husband keeps asking me questions about concerts we have attended. I can only remember that we have gone to Disney World ten times since 1989. Oops I mean ten times to Disney World and one visit to Disney Land since 1989. I told the children in 2004 when we took our last official vacation to Orlando that if I had saved all the money from our numerous vacations, I would have a nice nest egg.



But I also have a lot of new memories about my children. Children First is the title of one of Penelope Leach’s bibles which I’ve used more recently. I suggest you go to a few parenting classes, and go to the library and/or bookstore or your digital reading library and get some books that seem to answer your questions. Figure out the guide that will help you get through the first two years and then keep adding to your library until your children enter college. I continue to learn about how to parent as my children enter every new phase of childhood. It really does not get easier just because they are bigger. In fact, the bigger the child, the bigger the problems they have.



Finally, remember that your brain did not get smaller. Instead, it probably got larger to hold all the new knowledge and memories of motherhood.



Diary of a Yale Mom

Lives Touched, Lives Changed, and Lasting Impact

Diary of a Yale Mom

Lives Touched, Lives Changed, and Lasting Impact

How many lives have you touched? Even before I was a mother, I was mothering by being a mentor. I have been a mentor for as long as I can remember. I have always wanted to help other people, even when I was young. I know I inherited this gene from my parents, who both reached out their hands to family as well as to perfect strangers.

My parents migrated from the south to the north in the 1940’s when World War II created numerous opportunities for better employment and a better life. When my mother’s nine younger siblings finished high school, each one got on a train or bus bound for somewhere, and bound for a better life, too. They all lived with my mother or one of their other siblings. I was not born yet when all of this migration took place, but I have witnessed with my own eyes my parents helping neighbors who became ill, volunteering for street club activities, buying groceries for strangers who needed a few extra dollars, and just being nice to all people regardless of socioeconomic status.

This generosity of spirit has made me a better mother and parent to my own children, to younger Yale students, and to non-Yalies who asked for my advice. After all, why should you let someone make a mistake you have already made? There are a lot of people who see an advantage in letting other people make the same mistakes that they have made, perceiving that this may give them a competitive advantage. I see our society as a place that would have never advanced beyond the Stone Age if people had not helped one another. The non-zero sum gain is when 1+1 =3, and happens when your efforts are multiplied and magnified to change society, not just to further your individual pursuits. Society as a whole should consider this idea in terms of procreation.

Do we expect that children will achieve the same level of success as did their parents and grandparents, or do we want them to excel beyond our own accomplishments? What will the future look like? What will future generations accomplish and achieve? Isn’t the dream for our grandchildren’s children to live in a better society and a better world? Or are we only interested in our own personal gain?

My daughter is 18 years old today. I am proud to report that she is a better writer than I will ever be. She is an amazing thinker who has written about Post Traumatic Stress Disorders, the French Banning the Burqa, Bullying, Gossip, Facebook, Myanmar and Political Debates. I have always been a big picture person, but I think that things like our dinner conversations and the reading materials always lying around the house have helped open for her the world to explore and examine. I know that she will be the next Maureen Dowd, or a UN Peacekeeper, or whatever she wants to be. I have given her permission to be whatever she wants to be, and to excel beyond whatever accomplishments I have been fortunate enough to achieve myself.

I hope that all mothers will give their children the opportunity to be all they can be. Why else do we have children? Yes, why does anyone have a child? I hope mothers make the world be a better place simply because you have something to give to and teach your children that will enable a non zero sum gain for the world.

Happy Birthday, My “Summer of Love” Daughter.

Diary of a Yale Mom

Mother Love, Bullying & The Big Decision

Diary of a Yale Mom

11-5-10

Mother Love,

Bullying, and

The Big Decision

I was struck with “Mother Love” the moment I saw my blue bundle of joy. How, I thought, after forty-four hours of labor can you experience anything but love – when the baby starts crying and has almost perfect APGAR scores, even though she is a month premature. Mother Love is an amazing aphrodisiac that lets us coo at a newborn – even one vomiting all over you. Mother Love gets you up at 3 a.m. to change a diaper or quiet an anxious baby.

I thought that every new mother had this unique love that helps her stay up at night and still get up the next morning, over and over again. Perhaps I really should have known that Mother Love is not always distributed in equal doses to all new mothers -- something I soon discovered anyway. Nor is it equally admired by other women.

I remember that before my first baby was born I thought that I would return to work as quickly as possible and continue to climb the career ladder, at least to the glass or marble ceiling. That I would smash any barriers that kept me from achieving my career goals. I really thought that I could balance my life like a three-legged chair, dividing my time equally between motherhood, career and personal pursuits, including being married to another Type-A.

Overwhelmed as a new mom, however, I found myself all alone. Only one other friend had a baby and she had returned to work after six weeks. My other friends kept asking me when I was planning on returning to work. I started to question my own values and wonder where my career motivation had gone. At the same time, I was being bullied by my new stay-at-home-mom friends to stay home, too, to take care of my baby. I was being pulled in both directions. But the real pressure came from within.

The answer to my question of “stay or go” was given to me when we just did not have enough money to pay all the bills every month. I had to return to work. I was sad that I could not maintain my growing friendships with the stay-at-home-moms. They thought that I was self-centered and not interested in caring for my baby. Au contraire! I cried every day when I dropped off my baby at the daycare center that was within walking distance of my office. I cried when she pulled on my leg and beat the tear-covered floor with her tiny hands every time I pulled out my suitcase and walked to the front door.

As much as I loved my career, I loved my baby more. I went to work an emotional wreck many days. I knew, deep in my heart, I was responsible for providing for my baby’s basic needs of food, shelter and clothing. I also knew that my husband was not able at that moment to make enough money to cover of all our needs.  I will reiterate “needs” not “wants”.  My friends who did not have children could not understand why I was so upset after I returned to work.

I realized that I was going to be bullied by both groups of women. I never really found another mother who seemed to experience the kind of Mother Love that I had experienced until last year, twenty-one years after becoming a mom. Ironically, she was another “Yale Mom”. Mother Love appears not to be given to all women equally; however, all women need to accept each other just the way each woman is, with whatever amount of Mother Love. Women need to stop being so judgmental of one another.

After working for two years, our financial situation had changed, and I decided to return home to be the primary caretaker for a few years. I returned to work when my oldest was about to enter kindergarten. I found out just as I was about to start a new job that I was pregnant. The next baby was a totally different child. She slept through the night after two weeks. No colic or projectile vomiting or  tantrums when I had to pack my bags for work related travel. I felt at ease going back to work.

We must embrace mothers whose ideas of motherhood are different from our own (as long as there is no evidence of child abuse, of course). We must accept mothers who either stay at home or go to work. We must accept each other no matter how much Mother Love a person appears to have been given. We must tolerate all people and learn from our differences. There are more effective and good ways to parent than one. We might just learn something from each other. We must stop the Mother v. Mother bullying! And maybe in the process we will teach our kids an invaluable lesson, too.

Diary of a Yale Mom 

Mother Love

10-25-10

So just as I was about to launch my blog and begin the third chapter of my life, life got in the way. My husband’s grandmother died on Tuesday, October, 19, 2010, a day before her son would have turned 78 years old if he had not died suddenly from an aneurism on June 30, 2010.  We have attended too many funerals this year.

My husband’s grandmother’s death reminds me of just how much I learned from her since I first met her when I was five months pregnant with my first child. She was riding a Schwinn banana boat bicycle down her shell-covered street. She was 75 years old and had never learned how to drive a car. Her “nerves” were bad, and she would never even sit in the front seat of any car.

We had come to New Orleans in the Spring to get ready for our planned move to the city in June. The baby was due June 15 and we had scheduled to move on June 22. You should never plan a relocation to a new city within a week of expected delivery. We had gone to buy a car and find an apartment, and to meet all of the relatives who were unable to come to our wedding six months earlier. Our baby was conceived during our honeymoon, I am sure.

So the traditional waiting period before having a baby was very, very short. I had the worst morning sickness, which, when added to the stress of being newly married and planning a move to a new city in less than a year, was a recipe for disaster. My new grandmother greeted me with a warm smile, the biggest hug and the best meal that I had ever tasted. Her house felt like mother love.

I learned so much about mother love from Mama M. She had rice drawings on her refrigerator that were at least 20 years old. Her house was all that I wanted to create in my home. And she taught me how to forgive myself for the mistakes that I made as a new mother.

My first child was so colicky that I spent some nights at Mama M’s to get a little help and some sleep. One night my baby finally fell asleep on my belly. She was lying across my stomach in bed with me and I was exhausted from hours of pacing the floor.  I fell asleep, too. I awoke to my baby screaming on the floor.

She had fallen out of my bed onto the floor. I picked her up and ran screaming and crying into Mama M’s bedroom.  I told her what had happened and she took the baby and hugged me and said everything was going to be all right. Her loving words and reassurance were a change from what I had been accustomed to hearing from my own grandmother when I was a child.

Mama M said that babies are soft and tough all at the same time. My baby had fallen only a foot or so from a low bed onto a rug. Mama M laughed at me for being so upset with myself and hugged me to calm me down. I am sure that my baby kept crying because I was so upset. I wondered if my baby would be brain-damaged because of my mistake, especially since my own mother told me a tale of horror about my baby cousin who died when she fell out of the bed between the bed and the wall. The baby suffocated.

The lesson I learned that night as a new mother was that when you are tired and exhausted beyond words, “DO NOT PUT THE BABY IN THE BED WITH YOU!” Always put the baby in its own bassinet or bed even if it is next to your bed. It is never a good idea to have your newborn baby fall asleep in the bed with you.

I am happy to report that after twenty-two years of my parenting, my oldest child graduated from an Ivy League college with honors and was accepted into an Ivy League Law School. She was okay even though she had fallen out of the bed. Nor did Mama M scorn, yell or belittle me for making an honest mistake. She gave me permission not to be a “Perfect Mom” and it made me try even harder to be the “Best Mom” that I could be.

So many times people create a “Super Mom” image in the media or in life that is unrealistic. June Cleaver of Leave it to Beaver died last week and it reminded me that although she portrayed a perfect mom on television, she was in real life a single mom struggling to be the best she could be but admitted many times that no one can live up  to the “Perfect Mom” image that she created. Pearls, high heels and never raising her voice definitely made for a mythical image.

I am a real mom who has made real mistakes but who has always loved her children unconditionally.

Diary of a Yale Mom

10.10.10

10.10.10
5:30 AM Eastern Daylight Time

After years of writing, talking and lamenting about the need to write a book, I have decided to write a blog for now instead. I wanted to write a parenting book, but the idea was summarily rejected by my oldest child, A., who never minces words. A. said that I could not write a parenting book while I was still parenting two other children under 18. Point noted even if I disagree to some extent.

My tale will begin with my own personal journey as a parent 22 years ago. So why am I waking up at 5:30 AM even though I am an empty nester already? Having a baby is life altering! Forever. Once a mom, always a mom. You can never again be SWOC (single without children). My body clock has been altered permanently to wake up between 4:30 and 5:30 AM. Why I still wake up at this time of the morning is a testament to how hard it is to break old habits.

I started getting up at this hour of the morning before the baby was even born. Gaining 50 pounds makes it hard to get comfortable. I tossed and turned all night trying to find a comfortable position. No rest for the weary. Little did I know that it would be years before I got a full night of sleep.

After the baby was born, sleeping was never an all night affair and never totaled 8 hours in a day. Pacing the floor with a colicky baby was the routine instead. I had never heard of colic before I had a baby. Now I will never forget what it means. It is a miracle of short-term memory loss that I had another baby. Luckily my next two children slept through the night after two weeks. A true blessing, if there ever was one.

A baby crying inconsolably all night long is something that is hard to forget. A.’s flailing, twisting and turning in pain was part of the nightly routine. My heart bled for my child as I tried every known remedy to relieve her agony. Pacing, rocking, driving around the block with the baby in her car seat, and sitting her on top of the running clothes dryer in her baby seat were just a few of the ways I tried to soothe her without resorting to medication. I am sure my neighbors thought I was crazy, but if they had children they could relate to my exhaustion and efforts to console her. No one wants a colicky baby except its mother.

My body clock has been wound up and set for an internal 4:30 AM alarm for 22 years and even after the colic subsided and A. went to school, I found that early morning might be the only alone time I would have during the day. My house is very quiet at that time in the morning. I can get a lot accomplished in uninterrupted peace. Reading, writing, exercising and meditation are much easier before the dog barks or the phone rings and rings all day long.

I love the stillness of 4:30 AM.

10-10-10 seemed like a good day to start something new. Today is the day to start telling my parenting story. Three amazing children and how they changed my life for better or worse, in sickness and health, till death do us part. Join me as I remember the roller coaster ride of parenting that continues to unfold every day!

   

   Diary of a Yale Mom