Since becoming a mom, I’ve learned three things about men and babies:
- Men and boys love babies.
- Fathers are incapable of being mothers
- Mothers are incapable of being fathers.
Obviously John loves our four month old. He loves playing with him, singing to him, reading to him, and giving him baths. I pretty much expected that. What I did not expect was how my grandpa, dad, uncles, and boy cousins would adore the baby and want to play with him. My four year old cousin was almost in hysterics that he couldn’t hold the baby, but took great pride in “helping” me change him and play with him. I guess I’d been pretty brainwashed by movies and pop culture that says men are afraid of babies or find them irritating… definitely not the case in my family!
As much as men love to do the auxiliary tasks necessary to raise a child, they’re just physically incapable of breastfeeding. That’s right. You heard it here first. Unless you’re using formula, when that baby cries in the middle of the night, he generally wants one thing: his mama and the sustenance only she can provide. I’ve been so frustrated lately when Peter wakes up every two hours wanting to eat. I sit in our rocker, feeding him and glaring at my helpless husband who asks Is there anything I can do?
I should see it as a privilege that I am uniquely capable of serving Peter this way, and usually I do see it that way. 3 AM feedings don’t lend themselves to things like reason and compassion, for me at least, so I grumble and play on my phone while Peter gets his fill.
The irony is, when there’s something John is capable of doing, I’ll find a way to criticize. There are plenty of times where John is changing a diaper, putting Peter in his carseat or even just holding him, where I become convinced that he’s doing it wrong. Angrily, usually with the baby crying, I’ll get overwhelmed with anxiety watching him struggle and push him out of the way. Just let me do it, I’ll fume. In retrospect, I can always acknowledge that John was doing the best he could and that I really need to chill out and allow him to help. I had never been a control freak before now, but somehow becoming a mother has turned me into a total tyrant, thinking everything needs to be done exactly my way or not at all.
Lately I’ve been trying to take a deep breath and remind myself that there’s not really a wrong way to put on a diaper and that it’s going to make zero difference how long it takes John to do a particular baby task. It’s hard! I’ll blame it on the hormones!
Men are essential to the lives of children. That, I think, few people would contest. For me, at least, letting the men in my life take care of the baby takes practice, patience and humility. I trust the men in my life immensely, and I am continually reminding myself that I don’t know everything. I remind myself that even though God blessed me with a motherly intuition and unique ways to care for Peter, there are unique ways that John can care for Peter that I’m just not capable of.
It’s one thing to read about gender differences, it is quite another to see them in real life. I have never been more grateful that Peter will grow up with an amazing dad, grandpa, great grandpa and cousins. I think they’re pretty excited to watch Peter grow up, as well.
