Among the blend of emotions that most new-parents-to-be feel, this stage has been made particularly potent for us as we are pulled between two very different worlds: Ethiopia and the US.
A few days after arriving in the US, I took a trip to a baby superstore to register for gifts. I saw the clash of a perhaps sincere desire to help alongside an unabashed marketing scheme when I was handed a booklet that listed 152 “must-have” items for the baby. One hundred and fifty two. The number is actually closer to 250 if you included the multiples they suggest of some items (9-12 body suits, for example). If that wasn’t bad enough, I then had to walk through the store figuring out what I really needed. Thankfully, I had the support of my mother and husband, and even younger brother who wanted to tag along, but it still proved to be a rather daunting task. After we left, I lamented to Kevin: “I thought registering for baby gifts would be more fun.”
My mind shifted to the women at our Center in Ethiopia. A new mom of a two-month old brought her little baby to the Center multiple times a week strapped to herself and carrying a plastic bag filled with cloths and rags that were used as diapers. Those supplies were the extent of what she had. I wonder how she would react walking through the store with me as I (my husband, rather) pointed this electronic “gun” at any item as a way to say to future gift-buyers, “this is what I want.”
The marketing strategies used at these types of stores really play on a mother-to-be’s guilt. The theme seems to be: “If you want to be a good mother, then you will have these supplies, these brands, this cute of a decorated nursery, etc.” It plays on our naiveté and anxiety by saying, “If you want your baby to survive and you want to survive each stage of your baby’s life, then you must have these supplies, these brands, etc. etc.” Talk about pressure!
I think again of my friends in Ethiopia. Babies are born there every day without all of this stuff. They survive. Now, I realize that the mortality rate for both infants and children is higher in countries like Ethiopia because they don’t have the advantages we have in the States. Advantages such as education on hygiene and nutrition; basic supplies that can help minor issues that arise. Mothers are faced with many challenges including lack of access to medical care, unhealthy traditions and myths related to pregnancy and baby-care, lack of supplies and sanitary conditions. I feel so blessed to be able to bring a child into this world in the US rather than in a developing country. I, like any mother, want my baby to have a good life from the day she enters this world. Does that mean I need to buy all 152 of the items on the “must-have” list?
The pressure built further over the course of my pregnancy as I signed up for, knowingly or not, additional information emails. Into my email inbox every single day would arrive between five and ten emails related to baby products, pregnancy information, week-by-week developmental stages and advice, deals, sales, and advertisements for products. Some emails proved helpful or maybe just interesting: it’s intriguing at least to know when your baby is the size of an eggplant. Others were not so helpful or interesting; I learned over time which ones I could delete without even opening them. There does come a point when you can have too much information to adequately digest, I believe.
Throughout the nine months, the challenge I found myself facing was finding a balance between the two very different worlds. On one end of the balance is the world of bare minimums, much sacrifice, and high risk. On the other end is the world that celebrates excess, flees from sacrifice, and seeks to minimize risk at any cost. I’m still looking for that balance and think I will continue to for a long, long time in many different situations besides pregnancy. But I’ve learned that when I’m in the middle of that tension, feeling pulled from two different realities and worlds, that’s when I’m closest to the balance. As uncomfortable as that place of tension is, there is value in living there.
For my first 7 months or so of pregnancy, my preparation had consisted of reading bits and pieces of “What to expect when you’re expecting” in book version and the email version. I did some minimal looking online at registry items until it got to be too much for me and also did a little research on cloth diapers. There was part of me that knew once we landed in the US, I’d hit the ground running with other types of preparations for the baby but I didn’t know what that looked like.
A few days after arriving in the US, I took a trip to a baby superstore to register for gifts. I saw the clash of a perhaps sincere desire to help alongside an unabashed marketing scheme when I was handed a booklet that listed 152 “must-have” items for the baby. One hundred and fifty two. The number is actually closer to 250 if you included the multiples they suggest of some items (9-12 body suits, for example). If that wasn’t bad enough, I then had to walk through the store figuring out what I really needed. Thankfully, I had the support of my mother and husband, and even younger brother who wanted to tag along, but it still proved to be a rather daunting task. After we left, I lamented to Kevin: “I thought registering for baby gifts would be more fun.”
My mind shifted to the women at our Center in Ethiopia. A new mom of a two-month old brought her little baby to the Center multiple times a week strapped to herself and carrying a plastic bag filled with cloths and rags that were used as diapers. Those supplies were the extent of what she had. I wonder how she would react walking through the store with me as I (my husband, rather) pointed this electronic “gun” at any item as a way to say to future gift-buyers, “this is what I want.”
The marketing strategies used at these types of stores really play on a mother-to-be’s guilt. The theme seems to be: “If you want to be a good mother, then you will have these supplies, these brands, this cute of a decorated nursery, etc.” It plays on our naiveté and anxiety by saying, “If you want your baby to survive and you want to survive each stage of your baby’s life, then you must have these supplies, these brands, etc. etc.” Talk about pressure!
I think again of my friends in Ethiopia. Babies are born there every day without all of this stuff. They survive. Now, I realize that the mortality rate for both infants and children is higher in countries like Ethiopia because they don’t have the advantages we have in the States. Advantages such as education on hygiene and nutrition; basic supplies that can help minor issues that arise. Mothers are faced with many challenges including lack of access to medical care, unhealthy traditions and myths related to pregnancy and baby-care, lack of supplies and sanitary conditions. I feel so blessed to be able to bring a child into this world in the US rather than in a developing country. I, like any mother, want my baby to have a good life from the day she enters this world. Does that mean I need to buy all 152 of the items on the “must-have” list?
The pressure built further over the course of my pregnancy as I signed up for, knowingly or not, additional information emails. Into my email inbox every single day would arrive between five and ten emails related to baby products, pregnancy information, week-by-week developmental stages and advice, deals, sales, and advertisements for products. Some emails proved helpful or maybe just interesting: it’s intriguing at least to know when your baby is the size of an eggplant. Others were not so helpful or interesting; I learned over time which ones I could delete without even opening them. There does come a point when you can have too much information to adequately digest, I believe.
Throughout the nine months, the challenge I found myself facing was finding a balance between the two very different worlds. On one end of the balance is the world of bare minimums, much sacrifice, and high risk. On the other end is the world that celebrates excess, flees from sacrifice, and seeks to minimize risk at any cost. I’m still looking for that balance and think I will continue to for a long, long time in many different situations besides pregnancy. But I’ve learned that when I’m in the middle of that tension, feeling pulled from two different realities and worlds, that’s when I’m closest to the balance. As uncomfortable as that place of tension is, there is value in living there.
