Yesterday was Baby's second visit with his mom. Training prepares us to expect lots of criticism from mom...his clothes aren't right, his hair isn't right, he's lost weight (he's gained weight), and on and on. It's the mom's way of saying "Look, I'm a good mom. Better than you. I should have my baby, not you."
I try to put myself in the mom's place and understand what she's feeling. I try to hear the love behind what she is saying. I have to admit though that the little jabs really get to me, especially when they are one after another like a barrage.
A little miracle intervened yesterday to make things maybe a little easier (although it was still very hard).
Baby arrived to us with just a hospital gown but a couple of weeks later, the mom gave us a trunk-sized suitcase filled with clothes. Something like 49 pairs of pants.
When I was getting Baby dressed, I had the idea to dress him with the sneakers of which his mom seemed especially proud. There was a pair of track pants that I'd planned to dress him in (going for the whole athletic look here) but in the daylight I noticed the pants were navy blue instead of black like the shoes. Improvising, I pulled out a pair of jeans rationalizing that they go with anything. (Meanwhile, I seriously can't believe I'm putting so much thought into what this pint-size fashion plate is wearing!)
Then, while we were having breakfast, I was thinking about how nice it would be to give the mom a picture of Baby. I'd mentioned to the mom last week that I was making a baby book for her, with a picture of his first birthday for one thing. Since I need so many more pictures before the book is complete, I thought maybe the thing to do would be to frame just one little picture for Baby to give his Mama.
The amazing thing is that there was a message for me that never actually got to me asking me to dress Baby in the shoes and jeans that I just happened to put on him and also to bring a picture of Baby for the mother.
Nobody at the meeting knew that I hadn't gotten the message so all of these things like dressing Baby in just the right things and bringing a picture were expected. It wasn't until later when the person who was supposed to give me the message got the message, panicked and called to explain. And I didn't know until last night that this littlest of miracles had even happened.