When I welcomed my daughter into the world a year ago, my partner wasted no time in sharing the news: she weighed this much, measured that much, and of course, “mom and baby are doing just fine.” This phrase, a staple in the announcement of new life, suddenly struck me as absurd. Fine? Really?
Nothing about that moment felt “fine.” The epidural failed to work, and my partner inadvertently jabbed the IV into my already bruised hand. Clearly, it was the nurse’s first day on the job. To top it all off, I could still feel every stitch after the ordeal. And as my sweet girl entered this world, she looked bewildered and upset—rightfully so. Our first photos are a chaotic blur of confusion; neither of us looked remotely “fine.”
Lying in bed, hearing my baby cry while I was unable to comfort her, I felt a surge of anger. Surely, we couldn’t be the first mother-child duo mischaracterized as “fine.” How many other women had been labeled as such while desperately needing sleep, emotional support, or even a meal after 6 p.m.? I suspected many, and I began to question if this so-called “baby-friendly” hospital was truly catering to my little one’s needs, confined in that plastic bassinet, while we floundered at parenting.
It was outrageous to me that two individuals who had just undergone such a monumental experience could simply be described as “fine.” This only reinforced what I had discovered during my pregnancy: unless you were physically incapacitated, you were deemed “fine.” Ignore the pain, push through the fears, and carry on with life as if nothing were amiss. Heaven forbid you express anything less than joy during those nine months—after all, many women would give anything to be in your shoes.
Reflecting on my experience, I felt fortunate to have survived what was labeled a “normal” pregnancy. Yet, amidst the pain, helplessness, and the looming dread of sleepless nights ahead, I realized we were far from fine. We were far beyond that; we were nothing short of extraordinary. That beautiful little girl? She was the most precious baby imaginable, and I was her mother—an incredible feat in itself.
Do we call someone who has just completed an Ironman “fine”? No, we celebrate their achievement. Were the gladiators who fought for their lives in the Coliseum simply “fine”? Absolutely not; they were heroes. Did anyone refer to Michelangelo’s artistry as “fine”? No, he was hailed as a genius. It’s likely Joseph told the shepherds that Mary and Jesus were just “fine,” but let’s be real—men.
Even though my newborn and I were struggling to communicate or move freely, we were on top of the world. We were aware of only a few fundamental truths: we were loved, we were alive, and we had each other.
So please, let’s retire the phrase “mom and baby are doing fine.” It’s not just inaccurate; it undermines the incredible journey of motherhood. Instead, let’s celebrate the miraculous bond between mother and child as they navigate the challenges ahead. They are warriors, ready to tackle whatever life throws their way—once mom can finally muster the strength to get out of bed solo, of course.
For those seeking more information on pregnancy and childbirth, I recommend checking out this excellent resource on women’s health and pregnancy and if you’re considering at-home insemination, be sure to explore this reputable online retailer for insemination kits. And if you want to dive deeper into this topic, don’t miss our other blog post on the subject here.
In summary, the journey of motherhood is anything but “fine.” It’s a remarkable, challenging, and beautiful experience that deserves to be acknowledged for what it truly is.
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