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megatronixThe phrase "not my first rodeo" is a funny one. As you may very well know (especially if it's not your first rodeo), it means that it's not someone's first time doing something, and implies that the opposite - that the speaker is, in fact, very experienced.
I always imagine it being said in a gruff voice by a cowboy who's seen thousands of rodeos. He sits atop his horse, and someone tells him to be careful, or warns him that the gate can be tricky. "Thanks pal..." he says, taking his toothpick out of his mouth and flicking it on the ground, then turning to spit, as he pulls in the reigns with one hand, and adjusts the brim of his cowboy hat with the other. "...But it's not my first rodeo." He gives a small kick, and horse leads them both toward the starting gate at the arena.
But a few years ago, I saw something online that said:
"I didn't know I was supposed to know how to do everything by my second rodeo. That's still a very low number of rodeos."
And it made me laugh so much!
Probably because of the truth in it. The "it's not my first time doing this!" concept is turned on its head, and someone is standing there arguing, "But it's only my second time, and I don't know what the hell I'm doing!!"
I think that feeling, that sense of being lost in the woods, of people expecting you to know things when you definitely don't, can be so bizarre. We can feel so alone in our ignorance. And yet, everyone feels that way. Probably more often than we think.
I remember shortly after my son was born, he had a lot of trouble breathing, and had to be admitted to the hospital. I stayed right by his side the entire time. Luckily, he wasn't in the NICU. He was in a hospital room on the pediatrics floor, so I could still be right there, right next to him, hold him, rock him, feed him.
It had taken two years to even get pregnant with him, and I'd longed for a baby for years before that, so I'd had quite a long time to ask my "mom experts" about parenthood and babies, and learn as much as I could. First there was my own mom, who'd parented all four of us kids. And then there was my friend, Cheryl, who had two babies I just loved so much, and used to go on walks with her and the kids, and got to hold each baby when they were only a few days old. She used to share all kinds of wisdom and tidbits on practical stuff, and also the emotional stuff. After her second child was born, Cheryl said to me, "After the first baby that you are just madly in love with, you think, 'How could I ever love anyone else like this?' And then with the second kid, you just do, you love them too, JUST as much, and you feel amazed that you were ever capable of feeling that much love!"
And I knew it would be different when I had a baby, but to actually live that, and feel the difference between holding someone else's baby, and holding MY baby for whom I was now responsible... that was just mind blowing. A tidal wave of inexperience and doubt flowed over me, especially once we were back in the hospital. Question upon question. Decision after decision had to be made. How long was he not breathing?
Is it ok to keep trying to get the IV in? Is it ok if we do the CAT scan now? He needs to be still for the echo cardiogram, are you ok giving him a little sugar water on the pacifier to calm him down? Are you ready for the CAT scan? Can we do an endoscopy?
It was a lot.
A lot.
And it was my first "rodeo." I wanted to say, "why are you asking me?? how the hell would I know what's best??" But I realized - I'm his mom. All this care stuff is up to me now. And I mean, my husband was there, too, when he wasn't taking care of things at home, but he felt as lost as I did.
And the weirdest part was when both my mom and Cheryl each separately said to me, "I don't know how you're doing this. You're so strong. You're amazing. I don't know how you're dealing with this."
And I don't remember saying it, but I remember thinking later, well me neither, I don't know how I'm doing this! I don't want to be doing this, this is horrible and terrifying!
But more than that, I remember thinking... but they're the experts. They're my mom gurus. They know everything. They've been doing this for years. They're the ones I'm supposed to go to, so they can tell me all about it, and tell me what to do, and... they've never experienced anything like this.
I remember thinking the words, with utter amazement, We're ALL just winging this...
I still sometimes sit in awe with that realization.
My son was released from the hospital at 14 days old, after he'd been there a week. The stomach acid test had shown that he had such severe reflux it blocked his airway. Pathological reflux, they called it. That is why he wasn't breathing during one to two minute stretches, and that's why it always happened within 30 minutes of eating. So, he was prescribed a strong antacid, that I got from the compounding pharmacy about every two weeks, for about nine months. We also happened to find out that his heart, brain, lower intestines, and esophagus were all in perfect working order, thanks to the large battery of tests.
He's seven now, and healthy as a horse. And I'm still in my "first rodeo." Having just the one kid means everything is always new to me, every first for him is a first for me too, and I wonder all the time what the hell I'm doing.
But even if I had more kids, I assume I'd be wondering the same things. Am I doing this right? Is this ok? What now? Did I say that right? Do they know how VERY indescribably much they're loved??
"I didn't realize I was supposed to know everything by my second rodeo!"
First, second, or five-thousand-twenty-sixth rodeo... We really are ALL just winging it, and just doing the best we know how, aren't we?
I always imagine it being said in a gruff voice by a cowboy who's seen thousands of rodeos. He sits atop his horse, and someone tells him to be careful, or warns him that the gate can be tricky. "Thanks pal..." he says, taking his toothpick out of his mouth and flicking it on the ground, then turning to spit, as he pulls in the reigns with one hand, and adjusts the brim of his cowboy hat with the other. "...But it's not my first rodeo." He gives a small kick, and horse leads them both toward the starting gate at the arena.
But a few years ago, I saw something online that said:
"I didn't know I was supposed to know how to do everything by my second rodeo. That's still a very low number of rodeos."
And it made me laugh so much!
Probably because of the truth in it. The "it's not my first time doing this!" concept is turned on its head, and someone is standing there arguing, "But it's only my second time, and I don't know what the hell I'm doing!!"
I think that feeling, that sense of being lost in the woods, of people expecting you to know things when you definitely don't, can be so bizarre. We can feel so alone in our ignorance. And yet, everyone feels that way. Probably more often than we think.
I remember shortly after my son was born, he had a lot of trouble breathing, and had to be admitted to the hospital. I stayed right by his side the entire time. Luckily, he wasn't in the NICU. He was in a hospital room on the pediatrics floor, so I could still be right there, right next to him, hold him, rock him, feed him.
It had taken two years to even get pregnant with him, and I'd longed for a baby for years before that, so I'd had quite a long time to ask my "mom experts" about parenthood and babies, and learn as much as I could. First there was my own mom, who'd parented all four of us kids. And then there was my friend, Cheryl, who had two babies I just loved so much, and used to go on walks with her and the kids, and got to hold each baby when they were only a few days old. She used to share all kinds of wisdom and tidbits on practical stuff, and also the emotional stuff. After her second child was born, Cheryl said to me, "After the first baby that you are just madly in love with, you think, 'How could I ever love anyone else like this?' And then with the second kid, you just do, you love them too, JUST as much, and you feel amazed that you were ever capable of feeling that much love!"
And I knew it would be different when I had a baby, but to actually live that, and feel the difference between holding someone else's baby, and holding MY baby for whom I was now responsible... that was just mind blowing. A tidal wave of inexperience and doubt flowed over me, especially once we were back in the hospital. Question upon question. Decision after decision had to be made. How long was he not breathing?
Is it ok to keep trying to get the IV in? Is it ok if we do the CAT scan now? He needs to be still for the echo cardiogram, are you ok giving him a little sugar water on the pacifier to calm him down? Are you ready for the CAT scan? Can we do an endoscopy?
It was a lot.
A lot.
And it was my first "rodeo." I wanted to say, "why are you asking me?? how the hell would I know what's best??" But I realized - I'm his mom. All this care stuff is up to me now. And I mean, my husband was there, too, when he wasn't taking care of things at home, but he felt as lost as I did.
And the weirdest part was when both my mom and Cheryl each separately said to me, "I don't know how you're doing this. You're so strong. You're amazing. I don't know how you're dealing with this."
And I don't remember saying it, but I remember thinking later, well me neither, I don't know how I'm doing this! I don't want to be doing this, this is horrible and terrifying!
But more than that, I remember thinking... but they're the experts. They're my mom gurus. They know everything. They've been doing this for years. They're the ones I'm supposed to go to, so they can tell me all about it, and tell me what to do, and... they've never experienced anything like this.
I remember thinking the words, with utter amazement, We're ALL just winging this...
I still sometimes sit in awe with that realization.
My son was released from the hospital at 14 days old, after he'd been there a week. The stomach acid test had shown that he had such severe reflux it blocked his airway. Pathological reflux, they called it. That is why he wasn't breathing during one to two minute stretches, and that's why it always happened within 30 minutes of eating. So, he was prescribed a strong antacid, that I got from the compounding pharmacy about every two weeks, for about nine months. We also happened to find out that his heart, brain, lower intestines, and esophagus were all in perfect working order, thanks to the large battery of tests.
He's seven now, and healthy as a horse. And I'm still in my "first rodeo." Having just the one kid means everything is always new to me, every first for him is a first for me too, and I wonder all the time what the hell I'm doing.
But even if I had more kids, I assume I'd be wondering the same things. Am I doing this right? Is this ok? What now? Did I say that right? Do they know how VERY indescribably much they're loved??
"I didn't realize I was supposed to know everything by my second rodeo!"
First, second, or five-thousand-twenty-sixth rodeo... We really are ALL just winging it, and just doing the best we know how, aren't we?
(no subject)
Date: 2018-11-20 04:47 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2018-11-27 08:40 pm (UTC)Thanks again!