Wednesday, August 22, 2012
The End of Pregnancy Advice
I remember those days almost five years ago, when I was pregnant with Sadie and I faced all those common pregnancy complaints that pregnant women often lament from people who ranged from over-helpful to down right rude. The advice and questions poured in, an overwhelming tide of opinions and anecdotes (because those questions aren't really questions are they? They're more like openings for a lecture!) that could leave a new mother's head spinning.
As someone who had never changed a diaper in my entire life pre-baby, I did the best I could, reading magazines and books that, when I pick them up now, make me shake my head and laugh, in an attempt to gather knowledge for the big day, while sorting through the advice I'd received which often contradicted what I'd already been told.
The advice lasted through Sadie's baby-hood, but transformed, from stranger's touching my belly and telling me horror stories about how they passed out from the pain of childbirth, to suggestions that I fill Sadie's bottle with milk soaked pieces of bread, to get her to sleep through the night when she was a month or two old and lectures about how cold she must be when I let her go out in bare feet on what seemed to be a perfectly lovely day.
In the last few weeks however I realized that these overly helpful, and sometimes baffling, annoyances, died out as Sadie grew.
Then again, maybe I do know why no one has made it close enough to touch my stomach. I've had to rescue at least two women in the past month who voluntarily gave their hands to Mae Bae while we were out and about. She's very cute. I can understand the temptation And she doesn't usually bite. Unless it's a stranger's hand and that hand is covered with brightly colored jewelry that she just has to try to taste. But having to wrestle someone's hand away from her as she opens her mouth and leans forward in toddler slow motion is more than a little embarrassing.
So you see, those women who would be touching my belly, and then possibly giving me advice are side tracked by the razor toothed toddler and never really had a chance to meet their full, brimming with advice, potential. And then they're too busy trying to make a quick getaway as Mae reaches for them in a second, more determined biting attempt (seriously, strangers touching her is the only time we have a biting problem! Even toddlers need their space!).
Ah well. It makes life much more peaceful, not having to deal with "are you done yet?" and baby birthing/ raising advice at the same time. I'm not sure I could handle that.