Hellobee

A Facebook group of mamas I have the privilege of being in recently had a discussion about plans for pain management during birth. The initial poster – a mama a few weeks out from her due date – was thinking about the impending process of birth, and didn’t really want full on birth stories (we have a thread for those too), but more information about ‘planning’ for birth and the pain and epidurals and all of that. One of my fellow mamas made a comment that sometimes it seems that we, as a generation of mamas in the 21st century, have so much information about what this whole business of pregnancy, birth and parenting is, that it works against us. That maybe, perhaps, we know too much.

This really resonated with me. Is it possible we have too much access to too much knowledge of what can go wrong, how to combat it, where to seek out help? Does our culture, which feels often very hostile to parents who might want to, say, stay at home with their kids, or work and breastfeed, put us at a disservice? Does it lead us to then actively try to make up for a lack of first-hand experience with as much second-hand knowledge as possible? And does that inundation of various, competing experiences, ideas and methods put us in a place where we actually have too much information?

Because of our unfettered access to, say, what pregnancy is supposed to be like, what breastfeeding should be like or could be like, maybe we develop these images, these very real expectations about what every stage of parenting is going to be like and when our expectations don’t meet reality, we feel an even greater letdown than other generations or cultures that aren’t exposed to so many books, blogs, sources of information. We know so much about what can go wrong that we sit, expectantly, for one of the myriad of ‘wrongs’ to appear so we can solve it.

I am starting to wonder if we think about parenting too much – that rather than letting it be the organic process it is (literally something every mammal has the capability to do – reproduce – and something many learn about by watching others), we consider all the possibilities, good and bad, and let these potentialities outweigh instincts, observation and the very real truth that parenting is as much a growth process for the parent as for the child.

Let’s consider pregnancy. There are so many wonderful resources now about getting a baby successfully implanted in one’s uterus. Here, at Hellobee, is clearly my favorite. But there are also books like Taking Charge of Your Fertility and apps like Fertility Friend – things that offer us so much information that at first we feel empowered. Over time, though, I’d hazard a guess that maybe some start to feel a bit enslaved to these things too? We read about what should happen, then what can happen, and that what to do if what can happen actually happens and how to get help. Maybe we start to stress about what could happen, God forbid, and when finally we maybe actually get pregnant, we’re all too aware of everything that can go wrong, either because our doctor has told us our chances of success, or we’ve experienced loss and we know too much about the pain that might be coming our way again. Or we have friends that have had loss, or something rare occur, and our eyes are constantly peeled, on the look out. Does it rob us of the joy of just simply being pregnant?

I had these feelings of too much information as my pregnancy wore on, and I had nights where I would lay on my side, frantic for kick counts, because, what if?! For me, the information felt enlightening and exciting at first. I spent my first trimester a mix of pure elation, waiting for what came next in my What To Expect app, excited for the milestone of the next fruit (he’s a blueberry finally!), and dread. I’m not overly nauseous- is that a sign? Shouldn’t I feel kicks by now? Oh, maybe I have an anterior placenta. I did, actually have an anterior placenta, but isn’t it nuts that I could know that before my doctor confirmed it because of how much information I had access to?

By my second trimester, though, I needed a break. I couldn’t spend forty weeks+ wondering. I had to stop reading the actual book What to Expect because I was overwhelmed with all the possibilities of ‘normal.’ Loving family and friends, meaning well, offered their stories of pregnancy, but I just added their experiences to the multitudes of ‘normal’ and ‘maybe not so normal’ potential pregnancy realities I could be facing. At this stage, I definitely knew too much. When I backed off, I finally was able to enjoy my pregnancy a bit more. And I then I didn’t feel bad for drinking coffee anymore, either – ha!

Once I let go of trying to remember everything about pregnancy, I jumped headfirst into understanding birth. I loved all the information I could gather and I soaked it up. I loved Ina May Gaskin’s books, I loved Birth Partner, I loved it all. For me, for birth, more information was empowering. I knew what could go wrong, and most importantly I set up a mindset that the pain was progress, and it was pain from suffering that I should fear. Over time, all of this information finally meant I prepared for a natural birth, hoped for pain I could manage, and felt okay with being open to seeking pain remedies should I need them.

But maybe I knew too much. Does knowing that birth is going to be SO PAINFUL lead to worry and anticipation of the pain that inhibits progress? Does the fact that we, as a culture, rarely actually see women go through birth, go through pain but come out the other side, except for on a TLC show, mean that we heighten our desire for information and thus heighten our worry? Does this lead to inhibiting progress, fighting the natural progress, contribute to higher rate of emergency C-sections?

I don’t know. I am a full believer and lover of science and I am so grateful for modern medicine which has saved many of my friends’ and family’s children and lives, or just reduced their pain so that they were not suffering. Is it possible that we have medicalized and overthought something like birth – that both we and our medical practitioners are so aware of potential complications that we intervene when we encounter normal, natural stalls or obstacles? Maybe. Not in all cases, but, still, maybe.

And of course, sleep. This might be one of the most researched item around. I had no idea that I should prepare for my baby’s sleep, and even after I did know, I often feel that the more I know, the less I know. There are so many ways to encourage babies to sleep, to train them to sleep, to facilitate sleep, to create barriers to sleep, to f-up their sleep. And so much of the information is at odds. We have to be able to find something that actually helps because it seems everything has been written for us to read. But none of this information actually seems to help at three AM when my kid defies all encouragement, training and facilitation and will.not.sleep. Or suddenly he DOES sleep and I’m left wondering- what the hell did I do differently? Sleep, and information about it, is my black hole  It gives me highs like sugar, and then I crash when I start to feel daunted by all the methods and ideas.

The upside of all of this information, though, is that we are never at a loss for new tricks to try to help our kids sleep better, longer, and for their benefit. If one doesn’t work, we have another one we can try out. And what works changes so quickly, it’s of benefit to have a different method up our sleeve.

I know so much about sleep that I’ve forgotten a lot of it. I am left with trying my best to follow my instincts – let my son cry and fuss a little when, in my heart of hearts, it doesn’t feel like the kind of cry that really means he is danger or needs me, and immediately go to him when it does feel like that kind of cry. Sometimes I get them wrong, and I’m left with a kid I actually woke up further – but sometimes, I am rewarded for trusting my gut and he falls back asleep, cooing to himself after a few minutes of cries.

I think I might know too much. What about you?