Of all the things people tend to say to new mothers, “you know her best” is probably the one that stuck with me as one of the more bizarre. The midwife who came to visit us at home the day after my first child was born said it when Baby A wouldn’t latch. “You know her best so what do you think she needs?”
HOW THE FUCK SHOULD I KNOW I ONLY JUST MET THIS TINY HUMAN 2 DAYS AGO. I mean sure I felt her growing inside me wriggling around for a few months beforehand but that doesn’t mean I know anything about her that would be useful right now.
My first few weeks of motherhood were not easy. It had been a fairly traumatic birth. I had everything except a caesarean. Second attempt induction, opiates, constant monitoring, gas & air, catheter, hormone drip, epidural, ventouse, episiotomy and forceps. It took 2 days. I had planned a natural water birth. Everything just snow balled out of control as can happen during childbirth and afterwards I just wanted to sleep. But Baby A had other plans.
I was tired. I was in pain. Stitched and patched together. Bleeding. Sore. Nipples on fire. This tiny human I loved so much was literally sucking life out of me through my breasts and nothing I did seemed to comfort her. Months later we discovered she had a gluten intolerance. The gluten in my diet was affecting my breast milk which was what was giving her the terrible eczema, sore tummy and sleepless nights (and days!). But in those first early days we had no clue what was causing her distress. It was heartbreaking and tough. No one – midwives, doctors, health visitors, family, friends – had any advice that really helped. No one thought about my diet being the problem. Now I know. Now I’d give everyone out there that suggestion: if your baby is crying there is something wrong. If you are formula feeding see a doctor about switching formula and if you are breastfeeding then cut out gluten and dairy from your diet and see if that helps. It’s totally worth a try.
But at the time all I got was:
What do you think is wrong? You know her best!
So as I said, now I know. I know not to feel guilty when this question is asked and I don’t know the answer. In a way it’s true. Of course it is. But it’s not a useful way of dealing with a really difficult situation. In fact at the time I felt the implication of that question was that I was somehow failing because I didn’t know. That I hadn’t done my research on babies before popping one out. That I wasn’t doing the right thing when as her mother I should know what the right thing to do is. Well it’s ok to not know the answer. And it’s ok to cry alongside your baby when it all gets too much.
The one piece of advice I personally am glad I didn’t take was to just let her cry it out. Turns out I did know her best. I knew she wasn’t being difficult. I knew there was something wrong and the last thing I wanted to do was leave a little baby to cry it out when she was clearly distressed. When we discovered the gluten intolerance and within 2 months of discovering it she was sleeping through the night, it felt good to know that I’d sat with her all night every night for 6 months. Because even though I couldn’t do anything for her except cuddle her, at least she knew she wasn’t alone.
