Without the support and love of other moms (including my own mom), I think I would've gone insane after 2.0 was born. I read books about parenting. I knew what to expect the first few weeks. I was so prepared. And then God laughed in my face.
Breastfeeding wasn't at all what the books said it would be. We moved when 2.0 was just barely a week old (it was only across the hallway to a two bedroom apartment but it was still a move). The sliding door on the van wouldn't close. The exhaustion was so much more horrible than anyone had said it would be. 2.0 developed an umbilical granuloma (his umbilical cord didn't heal and fall off all the way). I developed mastitis (which is so much more painful than anyone actually tells you) and my milk supply suffered because of it. I also had postpartum depression. The list goes on and on...
So in those first few months, I called my mom all the time. I read more blogs, books, and message board posts about what to do and what other moms were experiencing. But mostly I just winged it. Breastfeeding got much easier. We survived the move and the van door was repaired. My body adjusted to the exhaustion. The umbilical granuloma, mastitis, and postpartum depression were taken care of. Slowly, I started needing less and less advice.
But the unwanted advice kept rolling in...
2.0 doesn't like wearing socks or shoes. He likes to go completely barefoot all the time. Regardless of whether there's snow on the ground or a windchill of 30 below, he doesn't want anything covering his feet. So I was told, by complete strangers, over and over again that he needed socks on his feet and one lady actually asked me what kind of mother I was to let my son go outside barefoot in the middle of winter. *arched eyebrow and sarcastically angry look inserted here*
I was told that I wasn't bundling my kid up enough. I shouldn't let anyone else hold him during cold and flu season. I shouldn't leave him in the nursery at church because the other kids will make him sick. I didn't breastfeed long enough. I can't give him egg yolks yet because he could have an allergy. If I let him eat cheese now, he'll get fat. I shouldn't let him play with the mardi gras beads from the New Year's Eve party at church because it's a choking hazard. Since he couldn't say three words on purpose on his first birthday that he was going to be autistic, etc ad nauseum infinitum.
This is what I have to say to all the people who give new mothers unsolicited advice: Go. Away.
My kid isn't autistic because he can't say three words right now. He's a boy. The vocab skills in some boys develop later. I can give him egg yolks before his first birthday because the whites cause allergies. If he gets sick, he gets sick. The world will go on. Cheese won't make him fat. If he wants to play with the beads from the party while supervised, that's fine. He's warm enough. Yes, I do spank him.
When I need help, I'll ask for it. Otherwise, keep your opinions to yourself.
By the way, my son's socks are in the car. You go find them if you think he needs them so badly.
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