Being a New Mom

Having a new baby was a fun, entertaining, interesting,,tiring, scary, nerve-wracking, frustrating learning experience.  After having four younger siblings, lots of little cousins, and babysitting dozens of children, you would think I would have been a pro at it.  But I wasn't. 

I remember the first time I tried to give Linnea a bath.  I got the warm water all ready in the sink, laid out a big, fluffy towel, arranged the baby soap, lotion and powder on the drain board, and put a clean diaper and new clothes next to everything.  Sheldon helped me carefully slip Linnea's tiny t-shirt over her head and take off her diaper, but then I stopped.  Did I hold her and carefully lower her into the water?  Should I just use a wet washcloth and wipe her off while she lay on the towel?  How in the world do you wash a new baby's hair?  Would I break her?  Would she get too cold?  Was I going to make her sick?  By this time Linnea was squirming and crying and I was scared to death.  So I did what new mothers have been doing from time immemorial -  I called my mom.  Thank goodness we lived so close and she was home.  Mom hurried over and had the best time bathing her first little grandchild and teaching me at the same time.  By the time Linnea was clean and snuggled up in her fluffy little blanket, smelling like an angel straight from heaven, I was over my jitters and having a ball.  Oh, it was fun having a new baby!

But then came night time, when Linnea had colic.  She cried and cried and I rocked and walked and patted and prayed, but nothing seemed to help.  Sometimes we would go for rides in the car, sometimes I would sit in my rocking chair, holding her little tummy over my arm while I'd pat her back, but mostly I walked, back and forth, back and forth, until 11:00 or 12:00 when she finally settled down.  I knew then why Heavenly Father put us in families.  It was hard enough taking care of a crying baby when I had a good husband spelling me off and giving me support.  How on earth did single mothers do it all by themselves?

I remembered the story dad used to tell about Phillip, when he was a baby.  Dad was teaching school back in those days.  Phillip had colic, and he kept mom and dad up late into the night, just like Linnea.  One day at school dad was so tired he stopped to talk to someone in the hall, then just kept standing there after they walked away.  Leaning up against the wall, dad fell asleep.  Another teacher passed by and slapped him on the shoulder, laughing.  "You must have a new baby at your house," he guessed.  Sheepishly dad told him about Phill's colic.  "Try putting onion juice in his milk bottle," the other teacher suggested.  "It really works." 

I thought about trying that, but never could figure out how to juice an onion.  I got lots of other advice on what to do for colic, though.  Some people said to try Dark Karo Syrup in her bottle.  It didn’t do much.  Others said feed her graham crackers, but you had to wait until the baby was old enough to gum them down and I wanted something now.  Finally someone suggested putting a little prune juice in her milk.  That sounded disgusting, and it made her bottle look funny, but it did seem to help, so Linnea was raised on prune flavored milk. 

I sure appreciated the parenting advice everyone gave me.  I didn't always use it, but it was great to have new ideas.  The best help I ever got wasn't for Linnea at all, though, it was for me.  A couple of weeks after Linnea was born my visiting teachers came over to see us.  They were both young mothers with quite a few children, so they knew what they were talking about as they visited and asked how I was doing.  My biggest problem at that point was nursing.  I never was very good at it, but right then it was more a matter of being wet and uncomfortable all the time than not knowing what to do.  This was back before they had invented all the wonderful modern conveniences they have today, like good disposable diapers and nursing pads.  Anyway, as we visited one of the sisters perceived my dilemma, and laughingly she told me how she had solved the trying to keep dry problem.

"I know it sounds kind of funny," she explained, "and it makes you look a little boxy, but I cut a sanitary napkin in half and line my bra with the two pieces.  It works really good." 

We all laughed at that, but as soon as they left I tried her advice, and it made all the difference in the world.  Thank goodness for other moms and their experience!