It Might Take a Village, But Good Luck Finding One

By Kelly Hoover Greenway

When I was one week postpartum with my second son, I set out on a mission. I was tired, I was hormonal, and I was in desperate need of eyebrow shaping. I know, I’m wowing you with my life priorities already; stay with me. My favorite threading place is approximately three blocks from my home, and though with this birth I was not subjected to the agony of trying to walk after an episiotomy, as I had with my first, most people who have recently given birth can attest to the fact that there is very little pep in one’s step for quite some time. But on this day, I was feeling pretty good. Griffin was an easy baby thus far, and I was determined to get my life (and my eyebrows) in order as quickly as possible. I am, after all, a modern American woman and I’ll be damned if a little postpartum vaginal swelling is going to hold me back! So off we went.

As I sat in her chair, with babe’s stroller right next to me, she asked, “How old is he?” “One week!” I responded proudly. Thinking she was just as impressed with me as I was with myself, I figured her next statement would be admiration of how quickly I was back out in the world, taking care of myself and not letting pushing a human out of my vag get in the way of good grooming. But it wasn’t. Instead, she responded with, “In my country (Nepal), new mothers don’t leave the house for a year. Everyone comes to you and brings you food and takes care of you.”

I’m sorry, what did she just say? People take care of you? For a YEAR? I was truly floored by this information. To be sure, there are many complexities to other cultures postpartum practices, and not all of them are because other cultures just love new mothers so much. But what was just slightly under the surface of her comment, at least as I perceived it, was that perhaps my eagerness to show everyone how quickly I could recover, how little time I actually needed to allow my body, mind and soul to adjust to this new life we welcomed into our family wasn’t a good thing. In fact, I think she felt sorry for me. In my best Carrie Bradshaw voice I wondered: “Modern parenting in the U.S., are we doing it all wrong?”

There seems to be a disconnect when it comes to how we view a mother-to-be vs. how we treat that same person once the baby is born. As a general rule, we love pregnancy. We love the idea of growing new life and how cute those baby bumps look. We love to hear about unusual cravings, and what names are being considered. Most recently, we love seeing extravagant gender reveals that are, quite honestly, growing more ridiculous by the second. We love these things because they require nothing from us except excitement. A pregnant woman does not infringe upon your ability to continue existing exactly as you are. Sure, maybe you have to give up a seat on the subway from time to time, but for the most part, a pregnant woman is not going to require that much of you, unless of course you are the person being sent out for all those unusual cravings in the middle of the night.

But a baby? An actual, live baby and the exhausted, hormonal, and overwhelmed mother who goes with it? Well now that is an entirely different situation – one that we are sorely failing at in America.

People often talk about the “baby stage” as if all there is to think about is the newborn that has graced us with its presence. But what isn’t discussed nearly as often, much less considered in postpartum care, is the fact that there isn’t just a “new baby” to take care of – there’s a new mother as well. And the truth of the matter is that this new mother needs just as much, if not more, care than a newborn. So how come we don’t provide that? How come there is book after book about how to take care of a baby, while new mothers are left on their own with a mere six-week follow-up at their OB/GYN?

Well, quite frankly, it’s because we as a society don’t want to be burdened with all that it would mean to fully support a baby, and that baby’s parent(s), through the first year of life. Because it would mean giving more of ourselves, living in less isolation, and fighting to protect those who want to (or must) return to the workforce to ensure that having a child doesn’t stand in direct opposition to their career, or vice versa. Man, that sure does sound like a lot of work, right? I mean, how are we supposed to #netflixandchill with all these new families to support?

Our village, so to speak, is not as strong as it should be, and new parents are suffering because of it.

I’ll give you another example. When I had my first son back in 2011 my husband and I lived in Manhattan. In as much as I had prepared for his birth with countless prenatal yoga classes, books read, and birthing classes attended, I was woefully underprepared for what life was going to be like with a newborn. For starters, my body was a wreck. I delivered vaginally and, as I mentioned at the start, underwent an episiotomy. Even now, my nether regions shudder just from typing the word. My recovery was slow and in a walking town such as NYC, this was not met with kindness and understanding.

One afternoon I was crossing 5th Avenue at 96th Street with my teeny tiny baby in a stroller so we could spend a few moments in Central Park before (a) my baby had a meltdown and needed to retreat back to our apartment and/or (b) I had a meltdown and needed to retreat back to our apartment. As I crossed the street (with the right of way mind you) a man hurriedly trying to make a right turn onto 5th Avenue was faced with an impediment: me. Now, what do you think that man did when he saw me, slowly waddling across the street pushing a newborn in a stroller? Do you think he stopped, patiently waited for me to cross and then went on about his day while thinking about the miracle of life I had created?

No, dear readers. No he did not.

That man hit his brakes within inches of my baby and me, rolled down his window, and shouted, “Hurry your fat ass up!” And with that, my understanding of what it meant to transition from being an adorable pregnant woman, to an annoying person with a baby and twenty extra pounds became crystal clear.

Sure, one could argue that this is an isolated example and that this man was just a douche bag. But to that I’d say that I don’t know any mom living in this country who hasn’t experienced disdain from strangers (or even their own family and friends) when it comes to just trying to exist out in the world with a new baby. From people not holding doors when they can clearly see you’re struggling with your stroller, to diners scoffing at the inconvenience of having to listen to your baby cry at a restaurant as you prepare to feed him, the list goes on an on. Nelson Mandela famously said, “There can be no keener revelation of a society’s soul than the way in which it treats its children.”

I’d add to that – and its mothers.

If you are a new parent and you feel completely overwhelmed, it’s not because you

are incompetent, or “doing it all wrong.” It’s likely that you are doing the very best you can in a system that is broken. You are being told at every turn, in big ways and in small, that you should be able to do this on your own. When in fact, you should be receiving the support of your community, your family, and of your government.

You should be receiving help in your healing, instead you are being sold pills and corsets to slim your waistline.

You should be getting nourished by those around you, instead you are being asked to have dinner ready for the family in between feeding a newborn from your own body.

You should be given PAID time off from your job so that you can bond with your child and be emotionally, physically, and mentally ready to come back to work. Instead, you are realizing that unless you go back to work right away, you won’t be able to afford to pay your rent. Oh, but since childcare is so expensive, most of your paycheck is going to the daycare, so maybe it doesn’t even make sense to work, even though you love your job…

Let me be clear; no one is going to fix this for us. There’s not a book nor an expert, a parenting website, or even a Facebook moms group (especially not a Facebook moms group) that can create universal change so sweeping that new parents wake up one day and suddenly feel less alone or overwhelmed. That will only come from us – mothers, fathers, and communities coming together to support each other and recognize that the baby stage is one we must all support.

Check out Kelly and her motherhood journey at https://kellyhgreenway.journoportfolio.com/