KEEPING THEM ALIVE

Not long ago, I was chatting with friends and one shamefully admitted that she mistook a bout of hand, food and mouth for teething pain. She felt horrible that her baby was sick and she didn't even realize it. We each responded with stories of our "mom fails" and, I'm pretty sure, hers didn't even make the top 5. We are so hard on ourselves as parents. What's worse is so many of us are critical of each other.

Do you know of Baby Jessica? In the latter part of the 80's, this 18 month old little girl, fell into a well in Texas. A fucking well! The entire community and everyone with any access to the news, came together in support of her family. The nation prayed and waited for her to emerge safely, which she did. Had to have a toe amputated, but she was alive and is now a mom herself.

Now fast forward to 2016. A 3 year old boy fell into a gorilla exhibit at the Cincinnati Zoo. Did the nation come together to support this mother? No. She was crucified. Now, I'm an animal lover and should say that yes, the gorilla was shot in order to save the boy and that's terrible; but, does that justify death threats? All the hate and mean words directed at this boy's mother? I don't think so. She had several other kids with her. Sure, it would be nice to have a nanny for each kid or a 1:1 adult to kid ratio but, that's not real life.

What the fuck happened to us as parents, or even just people? When did we all become so critical, so self-righteous and so fucking judgemental? Why did the family of Baby Jessica get the support of the nation but gorilla mom was brutally harassed? All it takes is 2 seconds for something to happen to your child. Has this never happened to you as a parent? If not, then you don't know the terror or guilt a mom (or dad, I'm sure) experiences when she thinks she could be responsible for her precious child being injured, or worse. She doesn't need your hateful words or your judgement. I can assure you, she feels bad enough.

It's hard keeping these kids alive or even just safe. When Tyler was 10 days old we were in the ER because she was lethargic and not quite right. Apparently, I wasn't producing nearly enough breast milk and consequently, she wasn't getting the proper nutrition. I felt horrible. I had been assured that she was eating and my milk "just came in". It didn't and I felt like an inadequate mother because I was unable to feed my baby. Don't think I didn't hear from many moms about "breast milk is better" or "this is what you need to do" and all it did was contribute to the guilt I already felt.  FYI, after weeks of nursing, supplemental feedings and pumping, only to sleep for 15 minutes and do it all over again, I still didn't produce even an ounce. Tyler was then formula fed, gaining weight, she and I were both sleeping and guess what, she's alive, healthy and doesn't know the difference.

A little over a year later, on New Year's Day, we went to the neighborhood playground. Tyler's last time down the slide was on my lap. Her rubber shoes caught on the side of the slide and she cried. After about 45 minutes she seemed fine and fell asleep. The next day we woke up and as I was putting her shoe on, she started screaming. I knew something was wrong so, off to Urgent Care we went. Her leg was fractured and my sweet 1 year old was in a cast for a month. A friendly note: when your kids are going down the slide, especially in those shoes with the rubber edges, remind them to keep their legs together (a lesson we like to teach our daughter anyway).  Cast came off, her leg is perfect and now she talks about it as though it was a right of passage even though she has no memory of it. But me? Oh, I remember. I felt fucking awful for months, even after the cast was off.

Then, about a year later, we went to visit my grandmother at her Assisted Living Community. Tyler fell backwards on a broken planter and was covered in blood. Finally, we found the gash on her hand and again we were back in the ER. She had to get stitches at 2 1/2 and we had to go to a Hand Specialist to be sure she didn't have nerve damage. Was it my "fault"? Technically no, but as a mom, you always feel like whatever happens to your kids is your fault and I still felt the mom guilt.

Here's one that still makes me sick to my stomach... the summer before last, Tyler had no desire to leave the top pool step. Really, it was difficult getting her on the first step at all so, last year, we really didn't think it necessary to fight her to wear a vest or puddle jumper. After all, we were sitting right next to her anytime she was in the pool. One weekend, we were at the neighborhood pool and our once fearful daughter decided to stand not on the first step but on the second step and jump to the third. I was standing next to her but had turned my head for a couple seconds to acknowledge a neighbor. My husband screamed Tyler's name, I turned my head and saw my baby, under the water, with bubbles at the surface of the pool. I pulled her up and she was absolutely fine. She hardly noticed anything wrong nor did she experience any fear, but me? I was a disaster and still get anxious thinking about it.

And what about Nolan? Nolan had surgery at 6 weeks for pyloric stenosis. Basically, the muscle between his stomach and small intestine grew faster than everything else and created a blockage causing him to projectile vomit during and after every feeding. After a third visit, in three weeks, to the doctor, we were sent to the hospital when I insisted it wasn't acid reflux or a stomach bug. An ultrasound confirmed the Pediatrician's suspicions. My tiny baby was put under anesthesia and had surgery the next morning. This was nothing I could control, but it was still guilt I felt. Should I have brought him in sooner? Could I have done something different? The doctors said "no", but I still felt responsible.

Friends of mine have shared stories of their moments... their kid started a fire with matches, almost drowned, almost choked to death, fell off a changing table, fell down the stairs or even out of their hands! Fuck, one mom spoke of how her son almost lost a testicle! Thankfully, each of their kids are fine (and testicles in tact) but, my point is, terrible things happen to all of us but, it's as if admitting to or sharing these terrible stories means we are terrible parents and we aren't.

Here's the thing: I'm human. I'm going to make mistakes and I'd imagine you have or will, too. When that happens, can we try to do better? Can we make an attempt at being supportive instead of judgemental? Or don't. Judge me, but remember how critical you were when you experience your "2 seconds" because if you're a parent, it will happen.

I've never been perfect (despite what I tell my husband) and becoming a mom definitely didn't make me perfect. In fact, it has made me more exhausted, overwhelmed and distracted than I ever was pre-children. But I'll tell you, as imperfect as I am and with all the mistakes I make, I can confidently say, I'm a fucking awesome mom! Chances are, you are too. 

So, here's to you, you fucking awesome mom (or dad)! Have a cocktail, you deserve it!