I have had the great privilege
recently of knowing not one but two families in the early stages of raising
twins. Obviously I can’t speak for them – I can’t even imagine the complexity
of such a mammoth task – but one thing I do know, because they have told me, is
that it is hard. One friend, when I saw her last week, told me she was
deliriously happy but also felt she had no understanding of quite how tough it
was going to be. Partly because nobody really told her
what to expect. I was chatting to the parents of some friends about this (who
have also raised twins) and we were thinking about the nature of advice, and
how every new mother feels, somehow, like they didn’t really know what to
expect and that they could have been better forewarned / forearmed.
This is such a predominant theme among new parents,
and I have heard variations on it (and said it myself) a zillion times. Why
wasn’t I warned? How could I feel so unprepared? Why did I go in blind? Why
wasn’t this in the books? Why did my friends who already have children neglect
to mention this? Why did my mother gloss over this fact? In short: WHY DIDN’T
ANYBODY TELL ME?
There are a number of good answers to these
questions, which make perfect sense by themselves and yet still result in a
strange conspiracy of silence around birth and new maternity. They generally go
something like this:
It’s frightening
Nobody wants to scare their friends / family
unnecessarily. Asking people about the experience of birth, for example, rarely
results in an entirely honest relation of the facts (that is, if you’re
pregnant. If you’re not then you get all the gory details whether you like it
or not). It’s pretty obvious why — it can be frightening. Birth is an
incredible and inevitable end to the journey of pregnancy, and it is not
fair or kind to frighten women about to undertake it themselves. Incidentally,
there are a host of positive birth story web sites out there to counter this
phenomenon, and I recommend them very highly. Trying to approach birth calmly
is trying to undo everything Hollywood ever told you about the experience (it
will be terrifyingly quick, and terrifically painful, and take place lying on
your back and bellowing). Parent friends talking to pregnant friends try to
undo this too, generally by adhering to the old adage: if you don’t have
anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.
The same is true of motherhood – and actually people
who make remarks such as “you’ll never sleep again!” or “there goes your sex
life!” risk being glib at best and infuriating at worst. Fear-mongering is not
fair, and a lot of people err on the side of super-positive in order to avoid
it.
It’s annoying
As above, people who delight in portents of doom
are annoying. You feel in equal parts frightened about the devastation of your
own future, and pissed off because you can’t believe it will be That Bad. It is
also annoying, as has oft been noted by other parents, that people feel the
need to bestow unsolicited advice left, right and centre. Everything from how
to plan your maternity leave to what non-bio detergent to use can be shared
with you unbidden, and (if you’re an Aries like me) this often leads you to
want to do the opposite. Which is a sad and ironic side-effect, because
actually you are desperate for advice and guidance – it just has to be
from the right people, at the right time, and dispensed without making you feel
like a hopeless noob with no brain.
It’s subjective
I had a cesarean section, so I didn’t need to know
what it would feel like to deliver a placenta. I had a baby girl, so I didn’t
need to know that sometimes little boys are born with startlingly large
testicles. I was lucky enough to have a baby who wasn’t colicky, so I didn’t
need to know about the benefits of gripe water. Experience of motherhood is SO
SUBJECTIVE, if you try and prepare yourself for every eventuality you will be
overwhelmed with information and want to go and hide in a cave for the next 20
years.
It’s counterproductive
What would be the point of trying to explain to
somehow how a torn perineum feels when you sit down on it for the first time?
As Shakespeare writes in Julius Caesar, ‘cowards die many times before their
deaths / the valiant never taste of death but once’. If it is going to happen,
it is going to hurt. You, and only you, will have to deal with it. If you think
about it beforehand you are simply adding to the suffering through
anticipation*. Similarly, if you spend nine months lying awake worrying about
sleep deprivation, and nine months struggling through sleep deprivation, you’ve
doubled the pain. Life is a constant battle between knowledge is power /
ignorance is bliss, and raising children is no different to anything else; the
best balance lies somewhere in the middle.
*N.B I do this all the time, and am (ironically)
terrible at heeding my own advice here. I have spent so much time on mat. leave
fretting about going back to work that I have probably shortened it by about a
month.
It works both ways
A mother of twins cannot really describe to an
expectant mother of twins the rage and frustration you will feel when one baby
has just settled to sleep at 3am and then the other one wakes up, then they
both wake up, then one is sick and then you realise there is baby poo all over
the sheets because you ineptly did their nappy up in the dark. Your version of
that feeling will be all your own. But it cuts both ways – they also cannot
describe the overwhelming joy and awe that you will feel looking at two tiny
faces curled up next to each other, fingers and noses touching, probably
wearing matching hats, and knowing that they are yours and you are theirs. Just
as we cannot be advised about every difficulty, we cannot be prepared for every
happiness. And there is so much happiness.
The issue of how we help new parents feel less
unprepared, even lied to, remains a question that I can’t really answer, and
feel a bit conflicted about. I don’t want to think of my future self listening
to an excited expectant friend and thinking ‘how naive, she doesn’t know the
half of it’. I don’t want to be patronising, and I don’t want to scare people.
So I might be tempted to say nothing.
I don’t like the conspiracy of silence that surrounds
parenting, but I do understand it.
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