We went out to eat last night for Austin's birthday. At the end of dinner, I had to take both kids to the restroom. As we were finishing up, a new mom came into the restroom with a new baby who was just heart-wrenching howling. I hurried out of the handicap stall where I had my two munchkins and my brain immediately went back to those newborn days of trying to go out, yet be a nursing mom-- in a society that has little acceptance of public nursing if it at all might be noticeable (as my experiences taught me, anyway). I felt absolutely terrible that she had to try to nurse in a nasty bathroom stall while trying to stand up.
Before we left the restroom, I knew she was struggling and I just wanted to do anything to help her. I knocked on her door and told her that I had been in her shoes lots of times and asked if there was anything I could do to help or if there was anyone with her that she wanted me to get. Already three minutes had gone by and the baby was just not calming down. In her shoes, in that space, trying to do the job she was trying to do-- those have to be about the most emotional moments for a momma.
She declined my offer (of course, I'm some stranger in a public restroom) and I left with the kiddos with just a terrible pit in my stomach. After we got our kids ready to go, I told Austin to take them to the car and I returned to the bathroom stall.
The mother was still inside, the baby was still howling that newborn cry that makes a mom think her baby's going to starve, and the mother was sobbing. When I tried to tell her, again, that I was able to get someone for her and that I knew what she was doing was very tough and very brave, she tried to calm down to say thanks, but it was through sobs that just made tears well up in my eyes immediately. (actually it still does) She told me she would be fine and I left again with another pit in my stomach.
The second time I left, I had immediate flashbacks of being a new mom to Gage who did not learn to nurse well until, like, week 18, being by myself day in and day out because it was summer time and Austin was busy (in hind sight he knows this was a terrible, terrible decision) at the lake, and recovering slowly from a c-section that also included a blood transfusion. I couldn't leave that restaurant until I knew the mother had someone she knew to help her. Loneliness (even mental loneliness) and being a new mom is no easy combination.
I combed the place until I could figure out who might be with her and I finally found the husband, sitting patiently by himself, enjoying the quiet with no idea how his courageous wife was doing. I pulled him out of his daze by asking him if he had a newborn with him and his eyes just lit up with pride. Then I told him that his wife didn't ask for any help, but as a mom who has been in her shoes, I felt that she could really use his support. He went into Super Hero Poppa mode and followed me to the bathroom and went inside after we knew she was still in there by herself.
It's been in my mind ever since. I remember shooing people away all the time who offered help to me because I didn't know them, and because I was still bent on the idea that I should have more help from all the family that I was living among. That was a big, big mistake on my part and it was a lesson learned that being a mom is not really about always being independent and foolishly tough if it means that there is still agony on the inside. I've also learned that it's certainly best not to judge other families or try to tell other families how to parent, again as I was doused with this when Gage was born. Every time I tried to venture to the lake with Austin, ever camper under the sun had some other piece of advice or correction to make, but no one... and I mean no one, ever offered to just help.
Momma's need to be brave to accept help and that doesn't happen overnight. And, others need to be helpful--even with an encouraging look or gesture. A momma's psyche is very important to that newborn and to herself.
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