Quinn has always been a real person to me. I say this because now that he’s older, people say things like “He’s
like a little person now!” I know what they mean, but I want to ask “What
was he before?”
We had our second ultrasound at thirteen weeks, and he was
so obviously a real person. (Don’t worry, this isn’t going to be a pro-life rant or anything. Just telling you how I felt at the time.) I could see his little nose and
mouth, and his legs were kicking. I
didn’t know if we were having a boy a girl, but we were definitely having a
person.
 |
| In this picture, it looks like he's sucking his thumb! |
People describe newborns as little blobs because they just
lay there and don’t do anything. Again, I know what they mean, but I never
thought that about Quinn. Maybe because he was so demanding and didn’t just lay
there, but I thought of him as a person back then, too.
I have been constantly concerned about Quinn’s well-being and comfort since the day I found out I was pregnant. It’s almost like an ache
in my heart – that’s the best way I can describe it. It might just be my
imagination, but when I think about Quinn, I feel a physical tug in my chest.
I have “baby empathy.”
I’ve always been an empathetic person, meaning that it doesn’t
take much for me to literally feel what someone else is feeling. According my
therapist, I “take on others’ pain for them so they don’t have to feel it.”
She says that like it’s a bad thing.
So it should be no surprise that I try to relate to my son’s pain, even the smallest
discomfort. (What mother doesn't?)
What am I talking about? Glad you asked. Here goes my rant.
When the sun is in our eyes, we put on sunglasses or pull
down the visor in the car. A baby can’t do that. That’s why I have four sun shades on my back
windows – so I can keep the sun out of Quinn’s eyes as much as possible while
we’re driving. I don’t say, “ah, he’s fine” and keep driving. I’m actually
really concerned for his comfort.
When we’re out walking and the wind picks up, I move the
canopy on the stroller to shield Q from the wind as much as I can. When he was
really little, Q really hated having the wind in his face. I don’t think this
is something he should have to learn to deal with. As adults, we don’t enjoy
getting wind blasted in the face. Why should we expect a small baby to put up
with it?
That leads me to my least favorite saying from experienced
parents – “He needs to learn…” For example, when people come over and the baby
is sleeping, I have no problem asking them to keep the noise level down. What’s
wrong with expecting people to have some consideration for someone who is
sleeping? That’s when the “wise ones” admonish me and tell me that “he needs to
learn to sleep through noise” and “you don’t want a kid who wakes up at every sound.”
But let’s say you’re at Grandma and Grandpa’s house, and
Grandpa goes upstairs to take a nap. If the children get too loud, what does
Grandma tell them? Exactly. She says “Shhhh! Grandpa’s sleeping.” If we expect
children to keep the unnecessary noise to a minimum so the adults can sleep,
why can’t adults keep it down so the children can sleep?
So when you come over and Quinn is asleep, I just ask that
you open and close the bathroom door softly and that you don’t let the
cupboards slam. You don’t have to whisper, but if you could lower your voice
just a tad, that would be appreciated. (And never tell another parent what
their child needs to learn. It won’t go over well.)
I think if we want to raise children to be respectful, we
must role model that behavior and treat them with respect. Not that there
should be any question about who is in charge, but we can still treat babies
and children like people. Because that’s what they are. They have needs and emotions just like
adults, they just don’t have the means to communicate them. They learn how to
deal with their emotions by watching us.
So there you have it. I ooze with baby empathy. I suppose that
explains the cause of some of my mommy-anxiety,
huh? Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go check the temperature in the nursery
for the eighty-seventh time.
