Saturday, March 12, 2005


My friend, Rebekah, hung out at my house yesterday. We were pregnant together at work, and she had her daughter about six weeks before me. We sat in the living room and fed our kids and talked for a couple of hours. It was refreshing to be with someone who knows where I am at right now. Not just looking back on the newborn stage, but actively in the trenches.

It's interesting how God gives people different experiences, for whatever reason. He lets you muck through some of the tough ones, and gives mercy in others. From what I can piece together of Rebekah's motherhood experience so far, things have been pretty smooth. I mean, she's got the rough patches, but Melody took to breastfeeding fairly quickly and was sleeping through the night by two weeks old. During the times I've been around her, Melody is quiet and happy. Yes, I'm a wee bit jealous. However, Rebekah had an exhausting pregnancy and tough labor. And I can honestly say that, from my experience with pregnancy/childbirth, I would do either again without hesistation. Breastfeeding, on the other hand.... I don't know.

People keep telling me, "Well, I bet it will be easy with your next one." (First off, it's presumptuous for me to think that there will be another one, but that's another kettle of fish.) But experience clouds our little mental Viewmasters so much. From what I experienced of breastfeeding, I can't imagine what it would be like to have an easy time with it. My friend, Mindy, stopped by my house last September with her two week old second child. As we stood talking in the driveway, she actually squatted down, and breastfed her baby under her shirt, all while never breaking the conversation. Wow. I cannot even FATHOM that. But yes, it's true. Maybe someday, I too will be a driveway-squatting-breastfeeder. Some women have such nasty childbirth experiences that they cannot fathom going through that again, or at least in the respective manner that they chose the first time. And some women get post-partum depression so badly that they cannot fathom deciding to have multiple children.

And I think that's okay. God gives us our specially designed Viewmasters for a reason (though at the time, I often have no clue why.) Somewhere down the road, hopefully I'll be able to pinpoint and say, "So that's why I was meant to go through that." Maybe in our little world, it was important that Jason was able to share in Anna's feedings. Or maybe I'll be in some hostage situation in the future where my very life depends on me being able to pump five ounces of milk out of my breasts in five minutes. Who knows.


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