Today, my son has a fever and has reminded me of a very important thing. He’s not much of a napper but has been sleepy since this morning and I was wondering why. It didn’t help that it was a Monday morning so I had been on the phone a lot, we were getting our dryer fixed, the kitchen had to be cleaned, the list went on. He had been pretty happy and patient, playing with his trains and snacking until he came for a snuggle and started to dose off. His temperature started to rise very quickly I instantly knew he was getting a fever. He nestled himself in my lap and arms and breastfed. He was so gentle and calm and knew exactly what to do. I let him be for a bit, relieved by his calmness.
A couple of hours later, my dog barked loudly and my son who was just dosing off in my arms started to cry. He got red and really hot. Soon after, he breastfed and started to sleep again. In that moment, I felt a bit of panic and guilt. I had been sitting all early afternoon on my couch pretty relaxed, with him snuggled on me, breastfeeding on and off, getting some work done on my laptop, while he went in and out of his sleep calmly. Had I not been doing enough? If I did something more, anything, would I have been a better mother? Would I have looked like a better mother because it would look like I was caring for him better? Rather than producing milk internally, will making him soup look like I’m putting more effort in? A more caring mother? Should I be calling a doctor because that seems like a responsible thing to do when your child has a fever? But all I did was sit on my butt with him on me, looking like I was doing nothing. Or was I?
So here is where my train of thought took me. Intuitively, I believe I was doing the right and best thing for my child at this point. My gut told me he was okay without professional help (and I felt calm because I know what number to call if we needed one), I was giving him his best remedy by holding him and breastfeeding him, I was attentive, present, and most of all, he seemed content and okay with it. Of course he’s uncomfortable with a fever. But his reactions and expressions told me directly that this is what he needed right now and it was okay that I didn’t look like I was doing much. And if I was running around putting icepacks on him and making soup, etc. so the scene could look like he was being cared for, I would have been the only one satisfied feeling that I was actively helping him. He may have felt worse or simply drugged out.
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This feeling I got was very similar to what I had when I was supporting a woman in labour who was doing great on her own. She had found her rhythm, relaxation, and ritual; riding through the journey ever so calmly and mindfully. It was amazing to see. But I was at a hospital setting with other eyes, as her professional doula. I felt this twinge of panic and judgment that I had to look like I was doing something. Something more than believing in her, giving her time and space. But them I calmly reminded myself: Look at the mama. She’s definitely feeling pain but is that really pain she wants taken away from her? Is it really bothering her in the way pain would outside of labour? No. She was beautifully embracing it and all she needed (like she had originally asked me to do) was support her. That meant letting her be, helping her hold her space, and believing in her. So it was completely fine that I didn’t look like I was doing anything. Because I was and there is no need to prove it to anybody else or feel helpless. Just like how my son gently reminds me today in my arms. I need to do something for them. Not for me, not for anybody else.