Young Motherhood and Dr. Spock
When I gave birth to my son Kelly, I had just turned twenty-two three weeks earlier. It was so exciting to be a mother. It felt like a miracle to me. There was this little being inside my womb breathing, moving, developing into what was to be our child. We were going to be parents! Me, a mother, I thought in wonderment. How marvelous, how magical! But what did I know about being a mother? Nothing! I did what all young mothers-to-be in my group of friends did. I headed to the Mebso Bookstore and bought a copy of the young mothers’ bible of childcare written by Dr. Benjamin Spock. A book on how, what, and why to care for this magical being, your baby. As I waited for the baby to come, I pored over Dr. Spock’s book. I was going to be the perfect mother to my baby. I just knew that! I was going to be the mother of the year! At that time, we lived with my parents. We had come back from Abadan, where Meir was working as a telecommunications engineer, helping build the Abadan airport for Redifon, a British telecommunications company. It was suggested that since I was expecting, and I had a bad miscarriage a few months earlier, it would be wiser to live with my parents for the time being. Theirs was a huge house with numerous bedrooms and an adequate staff to run the house. We had a large bedroom with enough room for a crib and our own private balcony. Sultan, my parents’ long-time housekeeper, and Mama watched me like a hawk. This was to be the first grandchild. It was an important event to all concerned. At last, after two days of labor, Kelly made his appearance on a Thursday afternoon in November. Mama was in the delivery room with me all the time. Meir tried to share in this momentous event but was so distraught that the nurses ordered him out of the room. Besides, fifty-one years ago, men were not encouraged to be in the delivery room. A father’s place was in the waiting room, anxiously pacing up and down. Papa was at home, manning the telephone. Friends and family were calling to see if I had given birth yet. At long last, Kelly made his appearance! Later, one of my friends told me that when she called to ask about us, Papa said joyously that I had my baby. “What did she have?” she once more asked. “A baby!” he replied impatiently. She had to repeat herself several times before he told her I had a baby boy. I came home with Kelly. We had all the usual joyous celebrations and a steady stream of admiring visitors bearing gifts for him. Then it was just us: Mama, Sultan, Kelly, and me. Mama and Sultan hovered over us. They changed him, they bathed him, they did everything for him. When he cried at night, they would walk into our bedroom and take care of him. I felt like the third cog—useless! But this is my baby, I thought. I’m the mother! I began to feel resentful. Soon enough, though, the novelty wore off for them. It was okay to do other things than to adore this new precious arrival. One December morning, Mama was invited for a coffee party at one of her friends’, and Sultan was busy downstairs. I finally had Kelly all to myself! Eagerly, I opened my Dr. Spock’s book. Dr. Spock said the baby had to have fresh air every day. Right! I fed and dressed my baby warmly, put him in his pram, and put him on the balcony. I sat beside him a while. He was sleeping peacefully. It was a sunny day. I left him to it. Mama came back at lunchtime. “Where’s the baby?” she asked. I told her. She hurried out to the balcony and brought him in. “When did you put him outside?” I had taken him out right after she left, about ten o’clock. She pursed her lips tightly. He was only three weeks old, a little mite of a baby boy. She was very concerned, and she had every right to be. He became gravely ill. For the next month, the doctor visited every day. I did not leave Kelly’s side for too long. I felt very scared and guilty. I almost lost him due to my stupidity and incompetence! Finally, he was out of danger. Thank God he was going to be okay. I relaxed a bit. I went back to Dr. Spock, to the chapter about fresh air. I read the paragraph again. Actually, I completed the paragraph. I had only read the first sentence. The paragraph said that a baby needed fresh air every day, BUT it also said to start with five minutes the first week. In my eagerness to be the perfect mother, I neglected reading after the first sentence! So much for being the perfect mother! It took me a while to relax and enjoy my baby. Now I look at this tall, middle-aged man who is my son and think to myself, “I almost lost him! How could I have been so foolish?” Then I answered myself, “That is the reason God created grandmothers!”