Today I want to talk about advice, wanted and unwanted.
It started the day I announced my first son's pregnancy during the Lamaz class at the Hospital where I was to have my baby.
I noticed that the teaching nurse threw in a lot of her own advice and attitude. For example, she definitely believed that a birth without an epidural was a success, much more successful than the birth of a child with an epidural. She blamed the inability to breathe and distract oneself from pain was the reason for an "unsuccessful birth".
Fortunately, my family history taught me that each of us has our own tolerance for pain. Nothing in her class taught me how to breath through the knife I felt slicing me in half when the doctor broke my water. My father had a very low tolerance and my mother had just the opposite because of rheumatoid arthritis. My father also panicked easily so he had to leave the birthing room (meaning my mom told him, "Get out of her, Sam!") Panic wasn't discussed in the Lamaz class.
After the baby came advice came at me everyday I managed to get out of the house. Oh, my gosh! Feed him rice cereal. Don't feed him rice cereal. Speak to him in a high pitch voice. Speak to him in your normal voice so he knows what you sound like. Don't pick him up every time he cries. If he's fussy give him some brandy (granted these parents raised children in the 30's and 40's).
I was dizzy from all the advice and decided to politely thank each person for the advice and go on with my life.
Advice is rarely asked for and always free (I think I saw that on a T-shirt) but it's always, always there.
After my parents died 6 days apart in November 2016 I wanted advice. Advice from some helped and was comforting. The one piece of advice that doesn't work for me yet is, "At least they are together, that will bring you comfort." Or, "They were so much in love, think of their romance to bring you comfort." Nope. That doesn't help yet. I didn't like it but I knew my mother's time was coming. I had no idea my dad would go so soon. The shock was huge and only slightly wearing off.
I bought a book. One chapter helped. I looked for a bereavement group. A highly recommended group meets the same time I teach in Santa Ana, I have to teach because teaching dance feeds my soul. I looked for another, confirmed it was to occur the day I called, no one showed up.
Today, I'm asking for advice, believe it or not. I feel like my parents left me to go on a date, like I did when I was a little girl. How could they leave me behind?
I know it's part of life, but how do you get through the first year, or even the first six months? Please share if you want to. Please nothing negative, I work with kids and parents who get enough negativity in their life. I don't want it in mine.
Thank you for reading.