Counter Parent Shaming with Critical Thinking
I refuse to let people on the Internet (or anyone else for that matter) make me feel like a bad mama.
I think I speak for all of us when I say that the era of influencer parenting has gotten completely out of hand. I know this because even as a person who has removed herself from social media, I still find out about the most controversial memes as they make their way around the web.
Most recently, the batshit nonsense that assaulted my consciousness was this: When you drop your baby off at daycare, they think you’ve died. Read that again. Maybe one more time. What the actual fuck? I honestly laughed a little when I read it.
“Who would actually believe that?” I asked out loud to no one in particular a week ago when I was in Ohio. “C.,” my mom said with disdain, outing her best friend’s daughter. “She was crying to her mom that her baby thinks she’s abandoning him every time she leaves him at daycare.” So, now I know that at least one person has bought into this idiocy. Unfortunately, I’m positive she’s not alone, which is why I’m going to quickly detail why this makes absolutely no sense.
The first and most obvious reason would be that children pretty clearly do not understand the concept of death. It’s why when Mr. Goldeneye the goldfish goes belly up in the bowl and you have to flush him down a different bowl, the kid owner of Mr. G. still asks where he is long after the shoddily executed funeral you held to commemorate his short life.
It’s also why when grandpa passes away and you tell your child that “grandpa lives in the sky now” (or whatever age-appropriate explanation you came up with), they say “cool” with zero emotion and then ask a million questions you weren’t prepared to answer on this topic at another completely random time. Kids don’t even begin to sort-of comprehend that death is both permanent and irreversible until they are between the ages of five and seven, and even then, their understanding is far from complete.
So, no, your three year old doesn’t think you died when you leave them with Miss Hallie at daycare. Also, if that was the connection they made when you left them at daycare, wouldn’t that be the same conclusion they’d come to when you leave them with grandma? Or when you leave the room? Or when they wake up from a nap in their crib without you there? Wouldn’t peek-a-boo and hide-and-seek be an absolutely terrifying experience from which they would be traumatized forever?!
When I explain it like that, doesn’t this meme seem almost inconceivably stupid? But I think we all realize that this is far from the point. The real problem is that this meme was carefully designed to accomplish one thing and one thing only: Make parents (mostly moms) feel fucking terrible about their decision to leave their kids at daycare. In fact, so much of the parent influencer content on the interwebs is dedicated to this same goal. Shaming parents is what some influencers do for sport.
And it’s not just about using daycare or choosing to be a working mom or promoting the benefits of stay-at-home parenting. This commitment to shaming parents extends to every possible decision on the planet, everything from the evils of formula and screen time and sleep training to the superiority of making your own baby food and using cloth diapers and never, ever letting your baby cry for more than a minute before picking them up. Or, like, the opposite of all of those stances. Because the main point here is that no one is doing it right no matter what and everyone, EVERYONE should feel bad about how they are parenting.
Except I refuse. And if you’re a parent, you should, too. You should block out all of this condescending bullshit and find your own way forward. You should make every effort to think critically about what makes sense and not be influenced solely by your emotional response to someone’s (probably unsolicited) advice. Untamed emotions will fuck you over every time. I also will tell you 1000 percent that this is easier said than done. From personal experience, I know that it requires a lot of positive self-talk and reminding yourself that you’re doing a great job, even when you make mistakes like literally everyone does when they are trying to do anything well and mindfully and with love.
Here’s where I’ll give you a personal example. Before I had the Bean, I knew I wanted to breastfeed if I could. I was really dedicated to doing whatever I could to make this happen. I didn’t judge anyone for choosing differently, just like I don’t judge anyone who wants an epidural or a scheduled C-section or a free birth (although, I really have a hard time with making that last one make sense). It’s not up to me to decide what’s best for everyone. I know what I want, and I let everyone else make their own choices.
But as you know, after I had E., I lost a lot of blood. It made it very hard to produce enough milk. I tried everything. Breastfeeding consultations, iron pills, fenugreek, praying to the Goddess of Breastfeeding Success, etc. It wasn’t enough. The Bean lost too much weight. I was either going to have to supplement with formula or milk from a milk bank (AKA give my baby some other lady’s breastmilk—which I did look into, even though it felt/feels creepy to even consider). I cried when they told me. I was emotional from the post-birth hormones, but I really lost it. My plan had been to try my best and let go of the rest, and suddenly, all that went out the window. I made R. spend a million dollars buying bougie formula from Whole Foods. It was insane.
And then, I gave myself a pep talk. This was OK. The Bean was going to be fine. Breastmilk does not make babies smarter or give them super powers. It’s a nice bonding thing, but so is snuggling your baby while you give them a bottle. So, for a time, I breastfed a little, pumped and then supplemented with a lot of formula because I just never made that much milk. It was infuriating and exhausting, but it was also fine.
After I came back from Greece, I couldn’t produce milk at all really. I tried for a bit to get my supply back, but it was so much work for zero reward. I only wish I’d known that I was going to give up and use formula exclusively because then I would have saved my friend J. from watching me desperately hand milk my tit over a plastic cup four times per day to try and preserve my supply after my pump stopped working. It was not a level of friendship I really needed to unlock. And this wasn’t even the first time J. and I shared a “breast” friend experience! Our couples massage in Nepal is a story for another time though…
So, what happened after I gave up and used formula (now the perfectly adequate off-brand kind from the H-E-B)? Um, I felt fucking amazing. I got my life back! My body was no longer another chore I had to deal with. I stopped feeling frustrated that E. was constantly kicking around and fighting me as I tried to shove my nipple into her pie hole at just the right angle.
Formula was liberating. I only wish I’d done that shit sooner, especially after I read a book from one of my favorite authors where her French gynecologist tells her that she can totally breastfeed if she wants to “ruin [her] breasts forever.” Thank goodness for the wisdom of French women!
The other thing I realized when I stopped letting the breast-is-best narrative shame me into going against my intuition is that my baby actually thrives when I do what feels right. She also is her own person and is going to develop on her own time. Right now, the Bean is saying “mamamama” (not “dadada,” suck it, R. lol) and walking a bit on her own.
She’s ahead of her milestones. I always celebrate that by saying (facetiously) “score one for formula-fed babies!” but the truth is that nothing R. or I have done has made a damn bit of difference. She doesn’t say words faster or clearer because we put her through some sort of verbal training program. We aren’t helping her do squats so she can walk faster. No matter what we try, she still doesn’t sleep through the night. We’re here to guide her, but she’s going to do what she’s going to do. She’s an Aries.
And here’s the biggest truth of all: Pretty much all able bodied babies learn to walk. Pretty much all neurotypical (and many neurodivergent) children learn to talk. Babies hit milestones faster or slower, but the majority of them hit them at some point. We can worry and stress, but ultimately, we can only do so much to help our kids. We can love them, support them and take action when it’s appropriate. The rest is up to them.
So, let’s maybe stop perpetuating the parent-shame cycle by creating, sharing and, most of all, believing these dumb AF memes about the right way to raise a child. I personally will drop my kid at daycare a few days per week THE SECOND I am able to swing the cost. Mama needs to write more than she needs to handwring over some dipshit she’s never me judging her for traumatizing her child. Maybe it’s my bias, but I like to think the Bean is smarter than that. I think all of you are smarter than that, too.
With pleasure,
Yes, Misstrix
P.S. First, I am absolutely delighted by how many of you read my last post about my annoying husband lol. R. was also thrilled that the open rate jumped a full 10 percent over the average. Y’all are amazing. Second, are you thinking of becoming a paid subscriber? Maybe you’d like to gift a subscription to some friends? If so, I’m offering a 20% group discount. You can learn more about that here. Thank you for your readership!
P.P.S. One thing you may not know about me is that I am a very talented tarot reader! I’m currently doing year-ahead readings for those who want to see what each month of 2024 holds for them. The cost is usually $120 for the 60 min session, but I’m offering a $20 discount to newsletter subscribers. If you’re interested, you can respond to this email or write me at yesmisstrix@gmail.com.