Stop calling my birth easy.
There. I said it. If I am being honest, which clearly I am in that kind of mood, the words "birth" and "easy" do not belong in the same sentence. "Easy" and "kids" don't belong in the same sentence either. Stop calling it easy!
But let's rewind. If all that you knew about my birth is how long my labor lasted, or that I gave birth at home, you may be hearing potato when I'm not even talking about veggies... Do you feel me? We announce these stats like they can truly give a realistic image into birth. When we share a baby's size, are we assessing how hard it may have been to birth said child? Are we wondering how healthy that child is? I must say I'm not entirely sure.
My active labor was 2hours long... I always feel inclined to add a *BUT*. "But I had prodromal labor for a month." Like, it wasn't as easy as it sounds. A mother undergoes a c section, which to some implies that she didn't get the "full birth experience" (yes I have heard someone say that.) But guess what? Many women who undergo a c section actually labor for quite a while before a surgical route is suggested. Even if they never felt a single contraction, I'm pretty sure it's no picnic to recover from abdominal surgery while caring for you family. In contrast, I cannot imagine what it's like to be in active labor for days, but I DO know that growing and delivering little humans is exhausting!
While we're at it, let's go a step further... Say you AREN'T the woman who birthed your children. Oh, well... We don't even have a yard stick to tell how much of a badass you are, how will you ever have a leg to stand on as a mother. (sarcasm of course.) If we stand around lording over new moms, "Wait until you've gone weeks without sleep- wait until terrible twos- wait until you have MULTIPLE kids..." We will only perpetuate the Parenthood Hunger Games. Does it sounid crazy yet? Do I sound crazy yet?
The measure of a woman, the measure of a mother... It's not calculable based on a few stats. My birth was beautiful, and it took me months to prepare for it. Literally months of doing squats and stretches and meditations, because that's how I chose to treat my body. Choosing to breastfeed was incredibly hard, not a moment has been easy. But you know what? Mixing formula for a little one isn't without its challenges, I've done it as a foster momma. Baby wearing vs strollers, vaccinations vs non-vaccination, medicated vs natural, cry it out vs attachment parenting... The motherhood Olympic events go on and on. Many seem to be under the impression that these are opposing teams, not choices. Unfortunately, the peanut gallery isn't present in your home to help support these various events, they just sit back and inform you how to parent.
We each start off clueless. There comes a day when you are handed a helpless human being and in that moment you get to assume responsibility. How you got there might look worlds different from how I got there... And where you go from there might look worlds different than where I am going. You wanna know why? Because our helpless new babies don't know there is a core belief system and lifestyle waiting for them. My girls didn't know they were being born into a Christian, attachment parenting, hippy house... My oldest didn't know she was born with an epidural in a hospital. They don't know we had kids right away instead of waiting a few years. They don't know we are a "one car family," or that not all daddies have motorcycles. They don't know that some kids have more toys than them, or bigger houses than them... There are other ways to parent... Because we are entirely different people.
Struggling isn't the mark of poor parenting, it's proof that you are breathing. Constantly trying to one up your efforts, reading the latest parenting book, keeping up with the invisible standard --and I hear that soon I'll be faced with how to school my children *gasp*. Aiming to bear fruit is significantly more realistic than aiming to have a perfect garden. Guess what? Someone will always disagree with you. Birth, parenthood, relationships, adulthood-- it's all hard. I imagine this thing we call motherhood would feel like a safer place if we put down the score cards and approached our differences as teammates, instead of opponents.
