Well, this up my alley since guilt is my primary emotion. It's also my secondary emotion. Add motherhood to that tendency and the list of things I have to forgive myself for is constantly adding up.
The first big parenting mistake I made still haunts me.
When I became
pregnant with my oldest child, at age 28, I was determined to do everything
right. I was older than average for a first-time mom, and I had had some time
to observe those around me. I had traveled the world, earned two college
degrees, and accomplished a fair amount of professional success. I was ready to
be a mom.
Of course, I planned
to breastfeed my child for a year at least. I didn’t have any bottles or formula
on hand because I had no intention of needing them. When my baby was born
(twelve days after the due date), a lactation consultant came into my room and
taught me how to properly nurse my baby. The next day, we went home. And he
cried all night.
He wouldn’t nurse. He
wouldn’t sleep. And he just didn’t look right. His fontanel was sunken. He just
screamed and screamed. And I was completely exhausted and terrified. It didn’t
occur to me that he would be starving yet. My brain was running on empty.
The next day, around
noon, a nurse called to check on us. I told her the baby wasn’t eating or
sleeping and she told me to bring him to the emergency room. It was good that
she called. I had been waiting for my mom to come (she was planning to come
over that evening) and it might’ve been too late if I had waited.
My baby, who was born
at 8 pounds, 14 ounces, weighed just 7 pounds, 8 ounces at three days old. The inside
of his mouth was dry. And my milk wasn’t in. It broke my heart to see him latch
right onto a bottle and drink thirstily. He was contentedly asleep in minutes.
My milk came in a few
days later, but my baby was by then accustomed to the bottle. For the next few
months, I pumped breast milk around the clock and to feed to my baby. When he
was four months old, he finally began to nurse and continued to do so until
after his first birthday. Breastfeeding that baby was the best accomplishment
of my life.
But, when I think of
the first few days of his life, I cringe. He is a bright kid, who struggles
with a condition called Asperger’s Syndrome, a mild form of autism. The cause
of Asperger’s is not known. Whether it is biological or environmental, or a
mixture of the two, is not fully known. I tend to think it’s mostly biology,
since my son has relatives with the condition.
But I do wonder about the rough
start he had.
