The first thing I did when the digital screen flashed “Pregnant” was to download every freaking pregnancy app I could find. I eagerly set each one up and entered the date of my last period – not sure if I was expecting a different due date or what. Then, I proceeded to look at every single post in every single forum for moms of babies due in July.
Big Mistake.
Prior to joining the insanely exclusive (and yet, not so exclusive) club of women who are or have been pregnant at some point in their life, I had no idea how controversial your personal decisions could be. And how mean and judgmental other women who are pregnant can be of those decisions. Crunchy and silky were words I used to describe potato chips and clothing (and after visiting the salon, my hair – thanks Rachel!).
I was immediately confused … was I crunchy or silky? Was that bad? Oh, God, I am going to be a terrible mother. My husband and I decided pre-pregnancy that we wanted to cloth diaper and I became determined to breast feed and make my own baby food. Ahhh, so I was a Crunchy Mom. Then, I read on. I fully intend on a hospital birth and my very first words when I am in labor will be “DRUG ME.” So, I’m silky?
I felt and still feel confident in our desire to use cloth diapers, which I’ve now heard is disgusting, stupid and that my husband and I will never stick with it. This feedback is directly from people I know, trust and respect. Thanks friends. After about 20 lectures from these people, I started to reply with, “Are you going to change the baby’s diapers? Will you be washing them?” Oh, you won’t be? I learned quickly to smile, nod and move on. Our baby is our baby and only we can decide what diaper is perfect for his or her bum.
When it came to my personal choice on birth, the same friends who gagged at the thought of cloth diapers were the ones who sighed in relief when I said that yes, I fully intended on being drugged out of my mind. Further playing into the Crunchy vs. Silky debate. I learned the women in these forums and groups saw red the minute someone mentioned hospitals or drugs. These same women shunned those that opted for a flu shot or that drank coffee. Some were even downright spiteful towards each other.
I spent the first month after finding out mentally beating myself up for wanting a drugged, hospital birth that would traumatize my baby. I would be one of those moms – you know, giving your kid Mt. Dew in their sippy cup and feeding them McDonald’s daily – all because I wanted the birth to be a pleasant experience and not a deathly painful one that I’d hold over my child’s head their whole life.
At some point around week 9, I decided to each their own. Who cares what these strangers think? My husband and I were both completely fine with our decisions – he supports mine to be drugged (likely because he knows it will be much less painful for him if I am in fact drugged). I am in awe of those women who are able to make it through labor and delivery not only without drugged but in their homes. But, my decision to not do this doesn’t make me a bad mom. It makes me a woman strong enough to be confident in my decisions.
My first lesson in pregnancy: Everyone has an opinion and everybody talks, you have to know your body and follow your instincts and do what you know, feel and believe is best for your family.