Remember this adventure that led to this madness?
Papillon is almost 6 months old, and I am still very self conscious about it.
There is absolutely nothing wrong with her now.
She is not even small for her age.
She is in fact, quite average. 50th percentile for weight last time we went.
But when I go out, people ask for her age, I tell them and they undoubtedly respond with something like "Aww, she is such a pipsqueak/little thing/peanut". To which I instinctively (and a little defensively) respond, "Yes, she is small for her age, but she's happy".
Why do I do that? She may not be big, but she is not small. And that random stranger in the grocery store was likely not actually commenting on her size relative to other babies of a similar age, nor were they insinuating that she is not happy or healthy; rather, odds are, they were just politely doting on her cuteness.
But I defend her size.
She used to be mistaken for a preemie.
And somehow I couldn't ever just respond to that with a simple "no she's not". It was always "No, she actually started out at 9+lbs, she just didn't grow very fast at first, in fact, she slept so much she shrunk for the first month, but she is growing now". I'd get halfway through that long explanation before it occurs to me they don't need to know all that; but by then its too late.
I thought when Papillon started to grow that I would just move on. Start afresh with new, this time successful, parenting. But, I haven't. My parenting is still very significantly influenced by those first weeks. In ways like...
I get nervous when I don't have a freezer full of breastmilk.
I feel like everyone else's baby started smaller than mine, but very quickly surpasses her in weight, even those 3 months younger than she.
I try and be happy about other's baby's weight gain, but find I am mostly just jealous.
I am hesitant to let Papillon sleep 10-12 hours at night for fear of a sudden drop in milk supply.
When other parents talk about their child's impressive weight gain, they often say it (not necessarily intentionally) as though it is some accomplishment. For older kids its "My child is an honor student / plays baseball / dances ballet / etc" For babies its weight gain. Their baby gained X-impressive-#-of-lbs in Y-minuscule-amount-of-time; and if that is the parenting accomplishment of baby-dom, then I totally fail.
But, the good news is, I think I am finally moving on. I have decided that my successes may look different than other parents' success, but, dagnabit, I have succeeded.
I succeeded in delivering a 9lb 3oz baby without drugs and in less than 5 pushes.
I successfully got through 2 weeks where I literally nursed/pumped for 10-12 hours in a 24 hour period; a period of two weeks in which I never got more than 2 hours of sleep in a row.
I am succeeing in exclusively breastfeeding my baby, after only supplementing for a few days, and after wanting to give up every day for more than a month
I succeeded in flying across the country with a 4 month old, and I hate flying.
I have succeeded in keeping my sanity on long days when there is not one to talk to but my drooling baby and howling dog.
I successfully grocery shop with my baby
I successfully keep my child clothed and fed and rested and healthy every day.
I do my best not to be critical of other parents, parenting styles, etc. But, when I find myself getting defensive about Papillon's size, I have to remember not to be critical of my own parenting.
To paraphrase my favorite parenting philosophy ever (which I think I am paraphrasing from this blog, but now I can't find it, so I may be wrong): "Don't judge, cause we (parents) are all trying are d*mn best".
I am trying my best, and, by the grace of God, I am succeeding.
And if you are a parent and your child is loved and you are trying your best, details don't matter because you too are succeeding.
Papillon is almost 6 months old, and I am still very self conscious about it.
There is absolutely nothing wrong with her now.
She is not even small for her age.
She is in fact, quite average. 50th percentile for weight last time we went.
But when I go out, people ask for her age, I tell them and they undoubtedly respond with something like "Aww, she is such a pipsqueak/little thing/peanut". To which I instinctively (and a little defensively) respond, "Yes, she is small for her age, but she's happy".
Why do I do that? She may not be big, but she is not small. And that random stranger in the grocery store was likely not actually commenting on her size relative to other babies of a similar age, nor were they insinuating that she is not happy or healthy; rather, odds are, they were just politely doting on her cuteness.
But I defend her size.
She used to be mistaken for a preemie.
And somehow I couldn't ever just respond to that with a simple "no she's not". It was always "No, she actually started out at 9+lbs, she just didn't grow very fast at first, in fact, she slept so much she shrunk for the first month, but she is growing now". I'd get halfway through that long explanation before it occurs to me they don't need to know all that; but by then its too late.
I thought when Papillon started to grow that I would just move on. Start afresh with new, this time successful, parenting. But, I haven't. My parenting is still very significantly influenced by those first weeks. In ways like...
I get nervous when I don't have a freezer full of breastmilk.
I feel like everyone else's baby started smaller than mine, but very quickly surpasses her in weight, even those 3 months younger than she.
I try and be happy about other's baby's weight gain, but find I am mostly just jealous.
I am hesitant to let Papillon sleep 10-12 hours at night for fear of a sudden drop in milk supply.
When other parents talk about their child's impressive weight gain, they often say it (not necessarily intentionally) as though it is some accomplishment. For older kids its "My child is an honor student / plays baseball / dances ballet / etc" For babies its weight gain. Their baby gained X-impressive-#-of-lbs in Y-minuscule-amount-of-time; and if that is the parenting accomplishment of baby-dom, then I totally fail.
But, the good news is, I think I am finally moving on. I have decided that my successes may look different than other parents' success, but, dagnabit, I have succeeded.
I succeeded in delivering a 9lb 3oz baby without drugs and in less than 5 pushes.
I successfully got through 2 weeks where I literally nursed/pumped for 10-12 hours in a 24 hour period; a period of two weeks in which I never got more than 2 hours of sleep in a row.
I am succeeing in exclusively breastfeeding my baby, after only supplementing for a few days, and after wanting to give up every day for more than a month
I succeeded in flying across the country with a 4 month old, and I hate flying.
I have succeeded in keeping my sanity on long days when there is not one to talk to but my drooling baby and howling dog.
I successfully grocery shop with my baby
I successfully keep my child clothed and fed and rested and healthy every day.
I do my best not to be critical of other parents, parenting styles, etc. But, when I find myself getting defensive about Papillon's size, I have to remember not to be critical of my own parenting.
To paraphrase my favorite parenting philosophy ever (which I think I am paraphrasing from this blog, but now I can't find it, so I may be wrong): "Don't judge, cause we (parents) are all trying are d*mn best".
I am trying my best, and, by the grace of God, I am succeeding.
And if you are a parent and your child is loved and you are trying your best, details don't matter because you too are succeeding.
