Confidence

These two posts got me thinking about how much of parenting is a confidence game, even if you’re “just” parenting a singleton. The posts hit home particularly hard right now because I am suddenly suffering from a crisis of confidence regarding my milk supply. (I do think I took a hit brought about by an unconscionable lack of attention to my fluid intake combined with a sudden heat wave, and I’m fairly confident we’ll be fine after some serious attention to the matter.) Combine that suspicion with the fact that Small Boy is gaining weight slowly – though he’s always been more of a banana than a pear – and suddenly everything looks different. The cry that until a few days ago I knew with absolute certainty meant “Help me I’m so tired and I don’t know how to fall asleep!” …now I wonder, does it mean “I’m hungry?” The straining sound he makes that means “Mom, laying here is boring I want to sit up” …could it be he’s hungry? Do I have enough milk? Is he getting enough? Am I “starving” my baby? All the typical questions of a first time parent, and all of them having more to do with confidence than anything else. The confidence that I know and can read my baby. That I know and can read my body. That I’ve got good instincts. That I’ve been doing things right for the past five months. Two days ago, if you had asked, I would have told you not just that Small Boy is doing well, I would have said he’s thriving. So why am I suddenly confused now? Can this all be coming from a number on the scale?

Sadly, yes. One little number on the scale – which, for that matter is not even that bad, Small Boy still hovers around the 50th percentile on the growth chart which is just where he's always hovered – and suddenly I’m questioning myself, my baby, my body, and my choices. Damn scale. Damn growth charts.

So panic mode sets in. I called my Stillberaterin (lactation counselor) affiliated with the hospital where I delivered only to find she’s on vacation. I called my OB, but his office was closed until Monday (all this happened on Friday). I called the Mütterberaterin (roughly translated, the mother adviser, which is the coolest thing ever and deserving of a post of its own) and she agreed Small Boy is a bit on the small side. To up my milk supply she basically said drink, drink, drink, have a beer, try anything with malt like Ovomaltine. And she said if I need to supplement that’s nothing to feel bad about. I’ve breast-fed exclusively for five months, I’m doing a great job, and if I need to supplement that’s not the end of the world. Which is true. But. But. Now, I know the breast-feeding conversation can degenerate rapidly – I guess it’s a good thing I’ve got no traffic – and I’m reluctant to even dive into it but I don’t want to supplement. And I don’t think I need to. I just need to boost supply. Maybe. Heck, maybe my supply is fine and this is all paranoia. That’s the whole problem. This isn’t meant to be a post about breast feeding, it’s a post about confidence and about how much our parenting is affected when we lose confidence. It just so happens that my confidence has been affected by questions about my supply. It could just as easily be questions about if we’re using the right form of discipline, or if our baby should be sleeping more, or if the baby is “taking too long” to start talking. Whatever. Anything that causes us to start second guessing ourselves.

After striking out with the Stillberaterin and my OB, I called La Leche Liga to get the number of somebody in my area. I haven’t been in contact with them until now because one, Small Boy and I have had an embarrassingly easy time of breast feeding; two, my insurance entitles me to three visits with the hospital’s Stillberaterin (I think by law this is required of all insurance companies); and three, there is also the Mütterberaterin. But I needed to talk to somebody, and I needed to do it fast.

So I got the phone numbers and screwed up my courage to have this whole conversation in German. (Topic for another post – Small Boy is the best thing that ever happened to my German. Oh, sure, I don’t go to class anymore and I don’t have time to study or practice or read novels in German and in some ways my German has deteriorated since his birth, but as far as conversation goes, well! – where Small Boy is involved I know no fear of failure, no inhibition, no worrying about making mistakes. If I need something for him, and it has to happen in German, then I sally forth and don’t give a damn if I make the occasional grammatical error. He forces me to speak, and that has done wonders for my conversational German.) At some point during the conversation she asked me if I think Small Boy is healthy. I said yes, to look at him I’d have to say he’s a healthy and happy little boy and if I didn’t know that number on the scale I wouldn’t be worried at all. I’d say he’s doing great. At which point she gave me the best piece of advice ever: so stop looking at the scale and watch your boy. Brilliant. And obvious. And, of course, only possible when you’ve got that confidence in yourself and your instincts.

It’s shocking how fragile my confidence in my parenting is. I wouldn’t have guessed it, because in my saner moments I know I’m good at this. It’s shocking and upsetting how suddenly my confidence that I know what’s good for Small Boy, what’s working for us, can be undermined. Suddenly I'm wondering what that cry means, when I know perfectly well - I should know perfectly well - it means he's tired. I wonder what it means when he pops off the breast when I know it means - I should know it means - he's done. But now I'm second guessing everything, and I hate it.

I know how to feed the Boy, dress the Boy, play with the Boy, put the Boy to sleep. What I don't know is how to restore my confidence in my parenting. How unsettling. And how sad.