I want to have a natural, drug-free birth.
I believe in HypnoBirthing.
More importantly, I believe I can do it.
I will not be hiring a traditional confinement nanny.
Instead, my mother will be helping me out for the first two weeks, post-partum. In the day.
I will handle the night feeds by myself.
And for the rest of my maternity leave, I will be looking after the Tiny Human on my own.
I plan to cloth diaper the nugget.
There, I have said it.
I’m probably bucking the norm here for at least one of my goals but I don’t care. I am planning for what is best for myself and what I believe I can handle.
Maybe along the way, I will falter. I may cry out of exhaustion at sleeping only in fits and bursts. I may haul myself and the baby to my mother’s and seek her help. I may wonder why I want to do these things my way. I may cave and listen to the well-meaning but unsupportive words of the family and support network.
But believe me, when I say that I will do what I set out to do, I will achieve it, by hook or by crook. I didn’t live through two gruelling years of infertility – one of which was filled with continuous treatments – without a backbone.
So thank you for all your advice and negative, horror stories. Thank you for letting me know how so many of your friends and colleagues insisted on not having a confinement nanny and ended up eating their words. Thank you for telling me how I will wish I had a confinement nanny at 3am in the morning. Thank you for exhorting the conveniences of disposable diapers and the remarks on how I’ll be so exhausted from looking after the nugget that I’d cave and use disposables. Thank you for regaling me with tales of how painful childbirth is and how I’d beg for the relief of epidural. Thank you for telling me what I should do.
Thank you for telling me how you don’t think I can do all these things.
Thank you for not believing that I have the mental fortitude to achieve my goals.
Thank you for your skepticism.
I’m not a fool, nor am I an idealistic idiot with rose tinted glasses. I know what I am getting into and no, I don’t think I will be 100% prepared. But who goes into labour and parenthood fully and completely prepared?
I’ve done my homework and thought long and hard about the choices that I am making. I believe in me. I understand that their words stem from concern. What I don’t understand is this: why do we like to put others down and force the unhappy, negative stories down their throats instead of offering support and encouragement? Why can’t people be open about my decision to not hire a confinement nanny and, instead, offer their help should I need it? Why do we like to say, I don’t think you should do this? Why do we like to make them feel like a failure should their plans not work out?
So thank you for your advice but really, I didn’t ask for it.
The more you tell me you don’t think I can do it, the more I will prove you wrong.
Yannisms 