From the moment you find yourself standing in a pharmacy staring at the eight bazillion home pregnancy test choices (plus or minus? one line or two? digital?), parenthood is an unending parade of decisions that need making.
Doctor or midwife? Hospital or home? Cloth or disposable? Breast or bottle? Amniocentesis? Circumcision? Vaccines? Soft cheeses? Stay home or return to work? Work from home? Prenatal yoga? Postnatal yoga? Moxibustion? Caffeine? Weekly vaginal checks? Herbal supplements? Placenta encapsulation? What if you go past your due date? What if the ultrasound indicates a problem? What if your kid drops out of high school, or is gay, or likes football? How will you discipline? Which car seat should you buy? What color should you paint the nursery? Are you even allowed to paint the nursery?
It is the great blessing of the time in which we live that answers are only a few keystrokes away. I know only one person, a music librarian specializing in the obscure, who has in the last decade managed to query Google and get zero results. When it comes to pregnancy, birth, and parenting, every question has been asked, and every question has been answered. There are dozens of reputable websites staffed by credentialed medical professionals providing answers to all the common, and most of the uncommon, maternity questions. There are forums, blogs, Facebook, and the lady behind you in line at the grocery store, too. And, as you will know by the time your pregnancy shows, they all have opinions.
Obviously some of these sources are more reliable than others. Late in my first pregnancy, the teenager bagging my groceries scolded me for buying a 40-pound sack of cat litter. My CNM, on the other hand, had told me to continue my normal activities, just taking a little extra care of my balance and posture. Trusting that my provider knew more about the matter than the bagger, I went ahead and lifted the sack of cat litter. (I also would have taken her advice that people who have lived with cats all their lives, and do not currently have kittens, are at low risk of a toxoplasmosis infection and can safely change cat litter—except cat litter is already one of my spouse’s chores.)
But what happens when the opposing recommendations come from less clear sources than midwife vs. grocery clerk? What if it’s your mother in law versus your best friend from high school? One pregnancy book versus another? Google answers versus a moms’ group on Facebook? What’s worse: a 1:100 chance of mildly bad outcome, or a 1:10,000 chance of very bad outcome? What happens when your sense of what’s best for society doesn’t align with what’s best for your family?
You can try to seek information, you can make lists of pros and cons, tabulate prices and time commitments and what the neighbors will think. But often there is no one right way. In fact, there is almost never a bright and shining sign from the heavens: “Go this way, Mother, and your child will be well, you will be well, and no one will wind up in therapy.” The secret of parenthood – perhaps of life – is this: you do the best you can. You learn, you listen, you reflect, and the you decide. You do the best you can with what you’ve got. Maybe later you learn something new, something that would have made you choose differently. That’s okay. You did the best you could. Maybe your kid grows up to deal hard drugs to children. That’s… Well, that’s not okay. But you couldn’t have known that would happen when you chose the pregnancy test with the + sign.
So cut yourself some slack. Allow that sometimes you’ll be wrong. Sometimes there will be no right. Sometimes you’ll do everything right and things will somehow still go wrong. Sometimes you’ll wish you’d chosen a celibate life as a crazy cat lady and never seen that dratted + sign at all. Except in the next breath – or more likely in the same one – you’ll never wish that at all.