When Ben’s parents met Alaya at the hospital in her first 24 hours of life, they fell immediately in love. I couldn’t believe my previous concerns that they would love her less because she was half black. They were clearly over the moon to have become grandparents. I have never seen Ben’s dad so happy, so loving. He will carry Alaya around, singing to her and playing patty cake. Ben and I will occasionally look at each other like, “Who’s this guy, and where is your dad?” Ben’s mom’s love for Alaya was less of a surprise. She always talks about when Ben was a baby. She clearly enjoyed that time, and she was herself, like Ben, a child at heart.
Getting Settled In
The day after our late-night return home from the hospital, Ben’s parents were set to arrive and help out. When you do as much preparation as Ben and I did before giving birth, you know that you need to come up with guidelines for getting help postpartum. It was recommended, at least by the US and English materials we were reading, to set very clear guidelines about the kind of help you wanted. There were even handy posters you could send out reminding people not to visit if they were sick, not to expect the new Mom to act as a host when they visited, to help out with a chore like taking the trash down when they left, and similar suggestions to make sure you were in fact helping the new Mom and not adding any additional burden. So, before Alaya was born, Ben and I talked about what we would tell his parents. What would we really need as new parents?
For me, I felt the most important thing that I wanted was a stress-free environment. As I was transitioning into the role of mother, I knew that I would need compassion and understanding. I knew that I wouldn’t be open to unsolicited advice and judgement. I asked that his parents speak to Ben privately if they had feedback or suggestions. I was confident that in an exhausted, sleep-deprived state, I would likely misconstrue well-intentioned suggestions. I knew I would need the space and time to learn without feeling like I was being observed and judged inadequate. I wasn’t expecting them to pat me on the back and tell me I was doing a good job, but I needed them to respect that I was Alaya’s mother and trust that I was doing my best. I needed my home to remain an oasis, a safe place for me to be entirely myself. I also didn’t think that I could deal with being a new Mom and worry about my role as a daughter-in-law at the same time. It was too many roles to juggle, and I needed to focus all of my care and attention on this new life. So, in true American fashion, we decided it was best to tell Ben’s parents this from the get-go.
As you might already have guessed, it didn’t go over well.
Ben’s parents were upset with Ben (and likely me as well, though I wasn’t there for the conversation) because we felt the need to tell them that, especially just after they had arrived. But I think it goes deeper than that. You see, in the later months of my pregnancy, it was originally planned that I would go to Shanghai and stay with Ben’s parents in the weeks leading up to my delivery. Then we changed hospitals, and we decided to go to the hospital directly from Kunshan. I also didn’t want to be separated from Ben for several weeks before the birth since he would have to stay in Kunshan for work. However, we were still planning to stay in Shanghai with Ben’s parents for about two weeks after Alaya was born because we would have follow-up doctor’s visits just days after she was born. However, once I realized how much work it would be to prepare two places (Ben’s parent’s place and our place) for a baby, I decided we would just go back to Kunshan once we left the hospital. If I took Alaya to Ben’s parents place, I would need to think of where she would sleep, where to change her diaper, how to wash those diapers (because we use cloth), and so much more. Then after two weeks there, I would have to get accustomed to our place. It would have been a lot more work than a long car ride home. Again, the hospital change also made it so that going back to Kunshan wasn’t that much further than going to Ben’s parents.
Now, during the time that Ben’s parents expected us to stay with them, they started stocking a large amount of food for me to “sit the month,” which I will discuss more below. Since we were not coming, they decided to pack all of this food and bring it with them in the heat of the summer. So, now they’ve just lugged all this food to our home, taking our once empty fridge and freezer and filling it entirely, and the next thing they hear is that they need to be careful what they say around me.
Yeah, I know. I can see it; we look like unappreciative, inconsiderate children.
But it wasn’t about them.
I again don’t know what was said exactly during this conversation, so it’s entirely possible that I’m presenting Ben’s parents unfairly here. However, it felt to me at the time that I had just given birth to a human being; I was a new mother; I was recovering from labor; and my simple request for compassion and understanding was made into something about them. It seemed to me that what was meant to be a conversation about my needs ended up being a long one about their feelings. This would be a recurring theme in our interactions, especially at the beginning.
The following blog posts will be, for entirely new reasons, contentious because they will talk a great deal about the members of my family, primarily the family I married into. Ben’s parents can’t read these blogs, so they are likely to be unaffected. My husband, however, can read, and I’m honestly not sure how he’ll feel about what I write. It’s one thing to share my struggle with adenomyosis. It’s another entirely to share the struggle within my family. Nevertheless, I plan to stand by the title of my website and give you the “not-minimum-coverage” of my experiences as a new parent. While I won’t intentionally misrepresent others, I will also admit that all I write here is simply my understanding, my memory, and my impressions. There are many linguistic and cultural differences between myself, my husband, and my in-laws. As such, the margin for misunderstanding is substantial. What I present here is just one perspective.
Giving out jobs
Ben’s dad has been the head of his household for decades, and he was planning to continue on in this role in our house. One morning after breakfast, he called a family meeting. In the meeting, he gave everyone a job. I was responsible for feeding and taking care of Alaya; he was responsible for doing the grocery shopping according to the meal plan created (to be discussed more below); Ben’s Mom would cook and do basic housework; and Ben would do the online food shopping. This meeting felt unnecessary since we were all already doing that, but I nodded my head a lot and went along with it.
Despite my being in charge of Alaya’s care and my request that Ben’s parents not give any unsolicited advice, one of the first conflicts was around Alaya’s care. In the early days, in order to get Alaya to latch and stay awake long enough during a feeding, we would undress her. If she was too warm, she would easily fall asleep. We started doing this because of the advice of a lactation consultant from the hospital, but it was also advice frequently given to new moms in the breastfeeding groups I was a part of. However, in China, there is a belief that you can get sick from exposure to wind 吹风 or by “receiving cold” 受凉. It’s a lot more complicated than this, but some would say that it is the belief that you can get a cold by being cold. Avoiding unnecessary exposure to wind is a deeply held belief, and it governs a lot of how society dresses, especially when it comes to children and women who’ve just given birth.
So, when I had their precious granddaughter in nothing but her diaper and wiped her down with a cold cloth to keep her awake (did I mention it’s August?), Ben’s mom would try to cover her up. Ben’s mom was not at all shy about joining our two-person breastfeeding events. This is where Ben and I would undress Alaya, help her latch, and he would massage my engorged breasts while we tried to keep her awake long enough to eat. Ben’s mom would sit right next to me, touching her granddaughter’s hair or feet and trying to keep her stomach from getting cold. Every time Ben’s mom tried to stealthy cover Alaya with a onesie, a blanket, or some other cloth, Ben would move it away irritably. He was not a fan of her joining our breastfeeding sessions. He thought I was too exposed to be comfortable. The first week, I didn’t care. I had too much on my mind to worry about Ben’s mom staring at my breasts. The second week it became uncomfortable. I just felt like I had no space and privacy to feed Alaya. Breastfeeding is about more than just food; it is an important bond between a mother and child, and my mother-in-law began to feel like an intruder (more on that in a future blog).
After each breastfeeding session, I would show Ben’s mom the sweat stains on my shirt. Our air conditioner was on very, very low. In fact, it was often just on the dehumidify setting. Breastfeeding was a lot of work for a newborn, and a new mother. Alaya and I would be sweating bullets throughout the whole process.
On one occasion, Ben’s parents saw us breastfeeding Alaya on the couch. A few minutes later, Ben’s mom came over to where we sat on the living room couch to casually drop a blanket on Alaya’s stomach as though she had accidentally dropped napkin on the floor. She then walked away as fast as she could. I can’t know this for sure, but I’m pretty confident Ben’s dad sent her to do this. I’m also pretty sure she didn’t want to; hence, the awkward execution and exit. Ben moved the blanket and told his mom not to do that in the future, or some similar thing. Upon hearing this, Ben’s dad yelled angrily from his room that Ben should come to the room, NOW!
Yes. All caps. Exclamation point kind of angry. Like, Ben was a child. I was amazed. Was this really happening?
Ben was called by his father to go to Ben’s parent’s room right away. Upon reaching the room, Ben’s dad then yelled about how Alaya was going to get sick if we didn’t cover her up and how he was just trying to save us the trouble of having to deal with a sick baby. The hospital was so far away. What would we do if she got sick?! Meanwhile, I’m losing my short breastfeeding window before Alaya falls back to sleep. So, I asked Ben to come back. I didn’t care. We could deal with his father later. Right now, we needed to feed our daughter.
That night over dinner, I explained to Ben’s parents that we were following the suggestions of an expert. I pointed out that we had been doing this before we even left the hospital, and it’s been working very well for us. Alaya is growing healthily (our recent follow-up visit supported this, as she was almost back to birth weight in less than one week), and there was nothing to suggest that she was sick or would get sick.
I handled it very diplomatically, but even writing this, I am seeing red.
1) We are not children. 2) We should not be yelled at anywhere, especially in our home. 3) Who was Ben’s dad to give us any advice on parenting?! He’d never given birth to a child. He’d never breastfed one. And he’d missed most of Ben’s first 4 years of life, so what experience exactly was he calling upon to be so self-righteous and so angry? I, of course, didn’t say any of that. I smiled and nodded and used logic to point out that what we were doing was working. So, we would continue to do that.
Ben’s dad agreed that what I said made sense, and our actions was based on the advice of a professional. He apologized for losing his temper, and of course, reminded us that he had only done it for our benefit. In fact, most of his focus was on that part. As he said this, I felt threatened. If Alaya did get sick, I knew that this would be to blame. It didn’t matter that babies didn’t catch colds from breastfeeding in their diapers or being wiped by a cool cloth on a hot day. I felt like Ben’s dad would have been happier for Alaya to get sick so that he could show us he was right than have her remain healthy. He’d be happy with that too, but not as happy. Not that self-righteous happy that so many of us are love drunk on. This is also one of my biggest shortcomings. I can get high on self-righteous anger pretty quickly (see this blog post).
Over the course of those two weeks and even until today, Ben’s parents can be frequently heard to say that they don’t know anything about parenting. When they were parents, they just made it up as they went along (Don’t we all?). This didn’t seem to stop them, however, from questioning our choices and doing what they thought was right instead of what we asked them to do on a number of occasions.
Sitting the Month
Besides taking care of Alaya, I was supposed to rest as much as possible. Ben’s parents believed that I should “sit the month” (坐月子). Sitting the month involves following many guidelines for rest and recovery after giving birth. In fact, the name refers to one the guidelines, which would be to sit (not even get out of bed) for a month. Because one loses strength during the process of giving birth, it is believed the mother is more susceptible to getting sick. As such, she should rest as much as possible. She should also avoid showering (or otherwise touching water). She should cover her body, including wrapping her head, to prevent herself from being exposed to wind (say from an air conditioner) and getting cold. Both rules are meant to decrease the chance that she’ll “receive cold.” There are also suggestions on what to eat, and many books have been written on the topic of how to sit the month properly. Centers have also been opened to help women sit the month. As the name suggests, these rules should be followed for 28 – 42 days, or 4 – 6 weeks. Sitting the month properly can not only help you avoid getting sick postpartum but also when one reaches old age. Now, I will say here, that I know very little about sitting the month. I did no research about it before giving birth, and I honestly have had no time afterward to investigate it further. What little I’ve stated here, I came to learn from Ben’s parents and friends who’ve talked about it.
I told Ben’s parents very early on that I was not going to sit the month. For one thing, it was not a part of my culture to do this. For another, my mother’s mother gave birth to 8 children, and my father’s mother to 11. Neither of them sat the month after these births, and they are both alive and well today. That being said, I also told them that they were welcome to cook food however they liked. If they wanted to follow the advice of “sitting the month” when cooking, I’d eat whatever they made. I was grateful that they were seeing to it that Ben and I had three homecooked meals; in fact, they also made snacks for me between meals. If they did nothing else, this would have been more than enough already.
The problem was that they didn’t stop there, despite our frequent requests that they stop there.
For instance, Ben asked that his parents not cook separate dishes at meal-times just for me. He stated that there was no reason for me to follow a specific diet separate from everyone else in the family. For my recovery, it was only important that I eat a balanced, healthy diet. His parents agreed to this, at least verbally, and his father suggested that we create a meal plan each day for the following day. So, every day, Ben and I would create meal plan, and Ben’s parents would cook that plus one or two additional dishes. Sometimes they would improvise even on the dishes we wrote down in the plan.
On one particular night, they cooked separate dishes for me (that had no salt). Ben, who had been in the bathroom when they identified which dishes they had cooked for me, took some food from one of my dishes. His mother jokingly admonished him for eating my food. Ben got an attitude, again pointing out that he’d repeatedly asked them not to do this. His dad then became angry, stating that we should be grateful to Ben’s mom for her consideration of me. In that moment, I nodded that I was appreciative of their care. In other words, I was thinking, “Please don’t drag me into this. Breastfeeding and being a new Mom is hard enough; can we not fight over the food?” I was grateful; I was, really.
But after that dinner, I just felt irritated. We had specifically asked that they not cook separate dishes for me (multiple times), now we were being admonished for not being grateful that they had done exactly what we’d asked them not to do.
And it wasn’t just the food.
As I sat on the couch in my shorts a day or two after they arrived, Ben’s mom asked me if I wasn’t cold. She recommended that I keep my legs covered. Then Ben’s dad made a comment about me covering my head, since we did have the air conditioner on (though very low). On the third morning, I thought it would be wise to explain to Ben’s parents what was going on with my engorgement. I hoped it would help them understand why I needed to wake up Alaya and breastfeed her so often and why I may look like I was in pain. As I talked, I started crying from the discomfort, uncertainty, fear, baby blues, and stress. At this, Ben’s dad quickly cut me off to say, “Don’t cry. Don’t cry. You definitely don’t want to cry at this time.” He meant while sitting the month. I’m not sure why this is, but perhaps even this touch of water would jeopardize my recovery. Besides this, I started getting articles from Ben’s dad about sitting the month and the perils of not following the rules.
So, over those first two weeks, I started wearing pants. Then I started wearing long sleeves. Then I started wearing a scarf on my head. I would wait until I felt confident they were asleep to sneak a shower, but I was nervous about washing my (very short) hair. What if I did get sick?
When Ben’s mom told me not to look at my phone because it would make my eye’s water, I lost it. Don’t worry; I didn’t yell at Ben’s mom. I found Ben and ranted to him. Because the icing on this “sit the month” cake is that Ben’s mom never sat the month. I repeat, Ben’s mom never sat the month. Because of the cultural revolution, Ben’s parents had Ben during a time when it was still not cool to follow traditions like “sitting the month.” So, Ben’s parents didn’t actually know very much about it, and they were giving me advice based on the random articles they were skimming and likely the advice of their neighbors.
So, I stopped doing all of it. I gave up the scarf and the long sleeves, and I made it very, very clear to Ben’s parents that I was not sitting the month. No more articles. No more advice about what I wear and concerns about water coming out of my eyes. Ben’s mom apologized for her comment, stating that she didn’t realize I had been using my phone almost exclusively to get advice about breastfeeding and to look up information related to baby care. Honestly, though, that apology had me rolling my eyes too. Oh, so I can use my phone for Alaya’s care and not because I’m adult who can decide for herself how much to use her phone?
Even the food, which I gave pretty much carte blanche on myself (can’t speak for Ben), felt like it was all about their granddaughter. It was about making sure that I got enough nutrients to make sure she got them as well. I drank so much fish soup those two weeks, despite that amount of seafood not being so great because of the levels of toxins in fish, because it was believed to be good for my supply. But I was engorged…Supply wasn’t my problem.
Living with Ben’s parents felt like I was living with 15 different people, and none of them asked me what I needed. And when I told them what would help, they stopped listening.
Moving from 2 people, Ben and I, to 3, adding in Alaya, was an incredibly difficult transition. I’m not sure why it didn’t occur to me that moving from 2 to 3 to 5 at the same time was a near impossibility. This was even harder when two of those people were bringing in the unsolicited opinions of many other people. I spent the first month postpartum so afraid of getting sick. I was afraid of getting plugged ducts and mastitis because of my prolonged engorgement. I was afraid of getting a cold because Ben’s parents would be like, “Told you so,” even though I know you can’t get a cold from showering and washing your hair. I was afraid that Alaya might get sick, and this would be blamed on us following the advice of a professional lactation consultant. Being a new mother was stressful. Not surprisingly, being a new mother and living with your in-laws, even if they make you five meals a day, was more than I could bare.
So, when my mother was scheduled to arrive16 days after they first came, I was relieved. We didn’t ask them to leave with her arrival; they decided to leave because they thought their being there might be awkward since they couldn’t communicate with my mother. This meant that15 days after their arrival, they left. And I felt like I could finally breathe again. I felt like the noise in my home had died down enough that I could truly focus on Alaya and listen to what she was telling me. In some books, they tell you that your child will teach you everything you need to know about how to take care of them. I didn’t believe that, but I found it to be true for me and Alaya. So many women said they didn’t have that Mommy-instinct when their babies were first born, so I feel almost shy admitting that I felt it.
As my home became quite again, returned to being an oasis, a niggling thought began to build in the back of my head, “I can’t do it. I can’t live with Ben’s parents. What will we do for her care? We’d always planned to live with Ben’s parents after she was born. What now?”
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