Hello, I am a three-day-old newborn baby, Phillip.
My mom’s name is Lois. I know my mom wrote about me the other day. It seems that my Mom thinks that I do not remember my newborn baby time.
Well, here is MY side of the story.
My first three days at the newborn baby hospital were just perfect. I enjoyed good and timely meals, a spotlessly clean place, and a good environment with perfect humidity and temperature. More importantly, I was taken care of by the super kind and highly experienced doctors and nurses for twenty-four hours a day.
I was taken to my young mom’s room during the daytime. Although she looked tired from the labor, she seemed to be very delighted with me. I told myself, “Having a newborn baby is not an easy job, especially if it is the first kid of the family, like me. OK. I will do my best to be a good newborn baby to my mom. I will eat well, I will sleep well, and I will cry as little as possible. One more thing, I will not be picky nor will I be grumpy, like my dad.
In the afternoon of my second day, I overheard my mom talking to my Grandma. My Mom said, “I am not going to feed the baby at night for the first two weeks when I get home.” At first, I thought I misunderstood her, thinking that there shouldn’t be on the Earth such moms who starve their newborn babies. My young mom, however, kept talking about it. She even called it “two week long TRAINING”. She told my Grandma, “Mom, I read a book. It said, ‘Do not feed your baby at night for the first two weeks. In the beginning, your baby will cry for food, but never EVER feed them during that time not even one single day in the course of the two weeks.”
I could not believe my ears. Who said that? Why would she do that to me?
Finally, in the morning of my third day, I went home with my Mom. I remember my first meal at home. She was preparing my milk. Her face was solemn and cautious. She meticulously measured the amount of powdered milk and mixed it with a precise amount of warm water. It was just like she was conducting a chemistry lab experiment with a microscope and beakers. “Wow, she looks very PROFESSIONAL.”
The taste was delicious, but very soon I found myself sucking air from the empty milk bottle. It looked like that was all, but I was not full yet. I was still hungry, so I howled, but no more food was given. At the second meal, third meal, I kept crying, demonstrating “I am starving, Mom. Give me more milk!”
One day, I cried harder than ever before, pulling out all the stops. Thank God, my grandma was there to be my savior. She implored my mom, “Why don’t you give more milk to the baby? He looks hungry.” Finally and at length, I got some more milk from my mom. As a token of my gratitude, I did not cry any more and fell asleep quietly.
This was virtually nothing compared to what happened to me at night, conducted under the name of “training”. I was supposed to have some milk every three hours, of course at nights, too. This was an inalienable right to newborn babies, just like the right of free speech for adults.
On the first night at home, I was hungry, maybe sometime around midnight. I tried not to wake my tired mom, and I waited until she VOLUNTARILY came to me with some tasteful milk. I waited and waited, but she did not come. It felt like forever. I was starving to death. Then, I decided to cry with all my might again. I wailed for more than two hours continuously. “Oh, man, it was the hardest job in my ENTIRE baby life”
Since I cried so badly, I almost became out of breath. Frankly speaking, I overacted a little bit. But, it worked out! That night I got some milk for the first time at night, and I had milk every night thereafter.
Looking back, I understand that my mom, who was a newbie mom, did not have any bad intentions to starve me. If I were able to “SPEAK” to her, not cry, I would have told her, “Mom, oftentimes, grandma’s wisdom is much more helpful and useful than what you read in the books. It was Grandma who always knew when I was hungry, when I wanted to sleep, when I did not feel well, or when my diaper was wet.
Also, don’t worry or don’t get over anxious about me. I am going to be just fine. If my head shape doesn’t turn out well, that’s fine, too. What will be in my head is far more important. Lastly, I thank you, mom, for giving me a life and raising me as a good kid.”
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