I finished reading Ayaan Hirsi Ali's book, "Infidel," a few weeks ago, and it has stayed with me. As she escapes her old life to make a new one for herself, she discards the shackles of her faith and discovers reason. Her journey takes her from childhood to womanhood, and from Somalia to the Netherlands. Our North American lives are incredibly easy compared with the life of a young girl in Somalia. But something nagged at me while I read; a familiarity with the powerlessness she experienced as a young girl being circumcised, and as a young woman with no rights. And then I realized; that's how it feels to give birth in North America. At least, for me and many, many other women. I remember when my first daughter was born. I ended up with an unnecessary cesarean, and when I asked the surgeon if I could have a vaginal birth with my next baby, he told me that he wished his patients wouldn't try to think. Just leave everything up to him. And would we please stop reading! This happened a number of years ago, but from what I can see, not much has changed. I hired a midwife for my next two births, and was amazed by the difference.
What it comes down to is power. I had no power in the hospital. Though the nurses were unbelievably kind, I felt helpless. I wanted to be "good" so I didn't make any noise. All the attention was on the monitor, the drip, the catheter, etc.
When I had my babies at home, I made as much noise as I wanted. I roamed the house, got down on all fours, and used some fairly colorful language. With my third baby, I had a water birth. And I learned a lot about power. Having a baby does that for you anyway, but a birth that acknowledges the mother as the one in charge is an amazing experience.
When we parent, we teach our children about power. As a Christian, I read lots about parenting from "experts" and it usually involved baby crying it out, and mommy and daddy controlling and hitting. Fortunately, I found a lot of good books in my local La Leche League library that helped me discover the mother inside me that God wanted me to be. And I discovered the benefits of baby wearing. This was an aha! moment for me. When you listen to what your baby is telling you and respond appropriately, you empower your baby as well as yourself. You become tuned in, and life is easier. Your baby feels heard, and your relationship becomes a dance instead of a battle. A new father confessed his fear that his baby would become the 'boss' if he picked him up every time he cried. A 200 pound man worried about being controlled by an eight pound infant is a sad indictment of how far we've come from natural parenting. Why are we messing with creation and biology? Baby mammals need lots of touching. They need our reassuring voice and the up and down, back and forth movement of being carried in our arms or on our bodies in a carrier. The best message we can give our child is "You are worthy. You are special, beloved, and I am amazed by the unique, wonderfulness of you." Let's not kid ourselves. Our children wear our spoken and unspoken messages like tatoos pressed into their brains and hearts. If we only want to control, and not to understand, we have to ask ourselves; where does our anger comes from? Do we have our own deep wells of sadness that we're dealing with, that makes it hard to bear the outbursts of a tired toddler or the sometimes overwhelming need of a young baby? Asking the question makes finding the answer a little easier.
Parenting is the hardest journey. It's also satisfying, fulfilling and joyful, even with teenagers :). At the end of the day, we won't be thinking about the money we've made or the toys we've acquired. Because as we age, and our children become the caregivers, we'll find the measure of our success, and get to answer the all important question. Have we taught them the power of love?