Why do we keep having babies?

So what is it about motherhood that has kept women having babies for ages. I mean yes, the process before the pregnancy isn’t so bad, but there’s one thing that has made me ask the question – and that is the pain we experience during childbirth! It’s not like we wouldn’t have been warned, the tales of labour pains make the better part of our oral history, they are passed down from generation to generation and they are never pleasant.
I have heard stories of women literally pulling out chunks of their hair, screaming at the top of their lungs, some even vowing to never have sex again! I know I sound crazy saying this, but I actually enjoy hearing the hilarious stories of what goes down in the labour wards, and am already looking forward to the comments to this post. Please be nice and don’t tell me to get a life….

Before I had a baby, in my naivety, I believed that a C-section was the easy way out. No one I knew had ever shared with me how it really was like. I must say though that I still wanted a natural birth and did not imagine myself have a baby by any other means. I remember how disappointed I was when my doctor told me that given my bad obstetrics history and the fact that my blood pressure was no longer stable, I would have to have an emergency c-section. I remember I argued with him and it took me a while to give in. That’s how much I wanted a natural birth. But a C-section it was and boy was it painful!

You know during the op you don’t feel a thing because the anaesthetic will be working wonders. I had a local anaesthetic and so was awake through it all. I had opted for this because for some reason I had a fear of not waking up to see my baby. I remember during the op seeing a leg in the air, and it took me a moment to realize that it was MY leg up there. So yeah, it was done and I still can’t believe what a short time the actual procedure took, it’s like cut, baby out, sew, all in ten minutes!

Then it was back to the recovery ward and that’s where the real drama started. At first it was like a distant pain, then it slowly grew, and before I knew it I felt like the devil himself was burning my torso with on of his 2-pronged forks! Dude! I couldn’t move an inch, I couldn’t laugh, I couldn’t cough, any sort of minor movement was accompanied by the sharpest pain I had ever experienced. I’ll forever be grateful for the nurse who kept the painkillers coming, and these were the suppository types. Ha! Did I ever think I’d be grateful for someone shoving something up my you-know-where?

I wonder then why I am wishing for another baby, seeing there is no easy way of popping one out. I guess that’s what makes us women. It’s the maternal thingy in us. We cannot help it. We were created to carry life in our wombs and give birth to babies. That’s the order of nature and that is God’s will. To those without babies yet, take heart, the pain will all be worth it when you look at you baby and are overwhelmed by the love you feel for the tiny person.

Am I a bad mummy?

So I haven't been blogging for a while, its been a bit crazy with work and a million other things to do. Anyway, something happened the other day that I thought I just had to share with the world and get opinions on whether I'm a good mummy or not.

Now let me warn you, if you are a social services worker or a child activist of any sort, please stop reading because you will probably have me investigated or arrested and we don't want that do we?

I was scheduled to have this very important phone call on Thursday last week at 7pm. The time slot could not be negotiated any further and because of timing differences this was the best time. Even before this important phone call, I worried that TJ will just disturb me because I was gonna have it at home, yet I still kept my fingers crossed that by some miracle he would behave. You see the thing is we live as just the two of us and so I'm his main source of entertainment - I play soccer with him, I sing with him, I dine with him...get the point?

So what happened? 5 minutes before the phone call, TJ gets all cranky on me! He starts whining and demanding this and that, and I'm thinking maybe he'll calm down within the next five minutes before the phone rings....yeah right huh?

He then moved to the kitchen and started calling out for different types of stuff, and finally he pointed at the marmalade! At this point it was 7 on the dot and the phone would be ringing at any moment and I just did not want to seem disorganised by having a baby screaming in the background, basically I was panicking. So what choice did I have? I handed him the jar of marmalade and a teaspoon and said go for it!

The phone call came through and I sat there trying to sound professional while my heart sank lower each time a teaspoonful of marmalade went into his mouth. He fell asleep a few minutes later and that is when I relaxed and really concentrated on my phone meeting.

The question is what kind of a mother gives a toddler a jar of marmalade just to shut him up? It's terrible I know, but I realise that as mothers we sometimes have to do whacky stuff just for survival.
I wonder what other crazy stories are out there from other moms?

So whose child is it it anyway?

So who does the child really belong to? To the couple who were actually involved it making it? To the poor woman had to carry the bugger for 9months? Or to the overbearing yet proud grandparents? I used to think that my child would be mine and to an extent my husband’s as well. Yes I say to an extent because excuse me, I carried him alone for 9months, I got swollen feet alone, I had morning sickness alone and the C-section was without doubt performed on my body only – unless I missed some episodes because I was high on the anesthetic. So yes, I used to think that I owned slightly more than my husband.

All the ideas I had about whose baby it is were part of my ignorance. You know the whole thing about ignorance being bliss or whatever, well, I believe it now. You see, in my ignorance I imagined me and hubby making all the decisions about our offspring, what they ate, what they wore and what haircut they had. I was wrong again! I was yet to discover that it really does take a village.

Right from the day TJ was born, and maybe even before, the battle lines were drawn, swords in hands and the ownership wars began. I mean right from which name we would give him. And the battle was not just between the families, even friends wanted in on the action. I am happy to say I won the “name” battle, which I believe is a blog on its own. Sadly it would be one of the very few I would win. I remember my husband warning me that there would be bigger fights about this baby and wasn’t he just on point.

Since TJ was born, the battles have not stopped. There have been countless arguments about his hairstyle, and my sister and husband have won that one – I think, unless someone orders a rematch, because I get the feeling that my mother in law is still not convinced that dreadlocks are ideal for a two year old. Then there was a day when it was announced to me that he was too old for milk formula and would, with immediate effect start drinking fresh milk. This announcement was, once again, made by my sister, who I must admit has won most of the battles. Not that I blame her, she is a second mother to TJ, and right now when I am gallivanting around the world in the name of a career, she is taking care of him.

The famous dreadlocks!

Back to the raging wars, my mother recently decided there was no need to use diapers during the day and ordered me to buy briefs for him. I don’t want to get into it so I’ll leave her and my sister to agree. Looking back, I wonder if other than the name, I have ever really made any decisions about TJ. It reminds me of the day when a friend of mine walked in to the office and narrated how she had gotten home the previous day and found her daughter’s head clean shaven, courtesy of a loving grandmother who thought plaiting the child’s hair was torture!

I suppose that is who we are as Africans, we mind everyone else’s business because we love them and it is who we are. That is why when we were growing up we were just as afraid of our friend’s mothers as we were of our own. We believe in an extended family and for us, the saying that it takes a village really is true. What experiences have you had concerning this subject? Please share!