It has been said that it takes a village to
raise a child. What no one told me was that, sometimes, the village shows up at
your door – unannounced and uninvited. Having a baby, it seemed, meant that
your life was no longer your own.
What we did not expect was that both my
mother and mother-in-law would gamely volunteer to visit the gynae with us when
we informed them that we were ready for our first appointment.
I could not understand this sudden
attention. I have always been a strong, spirited and independent person. Mum
never had to worry about my school results or my behavior, and she pretty much
left me alone. But, now, she wanted to follow me on my appointments. Why the
sudden fuss? I was just pregnant!
On the day of our first appointment and my
first detailed ultrasound scan, my mother turned up. (Thankfully, I managed to
convince my husband to stop his mum from coming along, too.)
My mum asked a lot of questions about the
baby’s development and well-being. She even wanted to decide on the birth plan
for me: No epidural at all! I was so embarrassed; I felt so small, like a lost
child. The Hubster, on the other hand, had a great sense of humor and found the
whole issue more amusing than intrusive.
My
mum asked a lot of questions about the baby’s development and well-being.
After that, I refused to let Mum come along
with me on my gynae visits. Unfortunately for me, she still expected a detailed
report after every trip. If I failed to call her, she would keep calling until
I answered.
Who’s baby is it anyway?
As if Mum’s overwhelming concern was not
enough, my mother-in-law also started to interfere. One day, before we had even
given the idea any thought, she simply informed us over dinner tat she had
booked a confinement lady. I almost choked on my rice. We were never asked
whether we would like confinement help!
Then came the bid day. We checked ourselves
into the labor ward in the wee hours of the morning after I had my “show” and
the contractions started coming. The excited father-to-be called our parents at
around 7am, when I as barely 3cm dilated, to inform them that I was in labor.
Then
came the bid day.
My mum made her way to the hospital
immediately. She then insisted on being allowed into the delivery room.
By the time I was pushed out of the labor
ward in the late afternoon, the whole kampun had arrived.
The two proud grandmothers would insist
that the baby be placed down whenever someone was carrying her for longer than 20
seconds, only to happily pick her up and carry her themselves. All this time, I
had only one thought going through my mind: Please, can I have some peace and
quiet to rest and bond with my baby?
Please,
can I have some peace and quiet to rest and bond with my baby?
I was so happy when I was ready to be
discharged. Finally, I could go home to rest and be with my baby, without all
the excitement. Bu that was not to be! Mother-in-law turned up as early as 7am
(my discharge was scheduled at 2pm), offering her “help”.
She insisted on carrying the baby from the
hospital all the way home, and told me to carry the heavy gift hampers filled
with bird’s nest and chicken essence instead. I stood there staring blankly. I
had just delivered and, here I was, asked to carry all the heavy stuff!
For the next month of confinement, my
in-laws turned up daily without fail at 7am and would no leave the house till
late in the evening, sometimes past 9pm. They had insisted on having the keys
to out flat.
Once, when the Hubster and I were enjoying
an early morning intimate cuddle with the baby, my in-laws stepped into our
room without knocking.
