Fears of a first-time mom

Just one glimpse into the newborn care classroom—a sterile upstairs rectangle in the local hospital—made all the feelings I associate with public education flood back on me. I stood in that doorway this week, choking on memories of driver’s ed and staring down the plastic dolls arranged at each cold desk beside two diapers for practicing. I felt certain for a moment that just as I had never driven a car before my first driver’s ed class, I had also had never changed a diaper or swaddled a doll in my life before standing in the doorway of this classroom. And here I stood, just like back then, on the threshold of exposing my ignorance before a roomful of strangers. I whispered to my husband Jonathan, “I’m too self-conscious to go through with this.” And then, of course, we walked inside.

The truth is, I actually have changed diapers in my lifetime. One kind babysitter once also taught me to swaddle a doll. Two weeks ago, my grandmother reinforced the lessons using shower gifts as props. But I’m afraid no matter how many times I learn, I forget again. The truth, embarrassing to admit, is this: To me, babies are a foreign language. Though I like to smile at them in restaurants, I do not really understand their ways at all. I think this condition occurs commonly, but it feels painfully incongruous with my burgeoning belly.

The class commenced. A kind lady in a surgical mask flicked through overhead slides detailing the normal appearance and behavior of newborns. After the first photo of an unwashed newborn and its corresponding umbilical cord, my head started to fill with dizzy stars. My mind transported me back to the fateful day in driver’s ed when I passed out in front of the class after viewing a video of car accident victims. When the photos of circumcision rolled around, I did not feel stable enough to walk to the restroom by myself.

During the hands-on portion of the class, I was too busy wondering how I could deliver a baby without passing out to pay attention to the lesson in swaddling. But as far as I could tell, none of the strangers in the class cared. All first-time parents, they worried more about themselves. Jonathan, thankfully, had paid enough attention to master the swaddle right away.

The two fears that coursed through me during that first class—one, that I would look like a fool, and two, that I would grow to queasy to continue—represent only the tip of my fright of the very unknown-to-me event they call childbirth. I wanted to ask the class instructor irrational questions like, “Am I going to die?” “Why are you making me do this?” And, “Can’t you tell me something that will make this all make sense?”

What an unstable sea our feelings can be! I love meeting women who tell me all these fears occur normally for first-time moms. I also love this piece of advice from my friend Tiffany: “Maybe it doesn’t matter what sorts of feelings we have going into childbirth as long as we say, ‘Thy will be done.’ God’s thoughts are higher than ours.”