Blackmail Parenting

Am I guilty? Absolutely. But if you'd allow me a few minutes to explain, I'd really appreciate it. It took a while for my husband and me to fully comprehend all the tasks that came with caring for our daughter. Of course, we had known about them in advance. We took all the relevant classes. We read all the appropriate books. Still, when she arrived, the sheer volume and frequency of these tasks threw us for a loop anyway. Diapers, getting dressed, feeding, burping, pumping, storing and defrosting breast milk, bottles, sterilizing, laundry, etc. It was an unstoppable force of nature and like the US mail, it just keeps coming. 

At first, we were all over it. We got stuff done left and right. We were tired of course, but mostly feeling proud and responsible, like the new parent hats we were wearing did in fact fit. Gold stars for us, for a job well done on our parenting homework! That wore off rather quickly. True exhaustion began to set in. Our coffee, though an absolute necessity, didn't seem to be working as well. And the tasks began to take on new meaning: they now represented things which took us away from rest and sleep. I started to count all of them and compare what I was doing to what he was doing. 

Before long, we were engaged in a full blown who-did-what parental tug of war. I noted if he wasn't cleaning enough bottles.  He noted if he changed more poopy diapers than I did. At first, we approached each other on this very gently and respectfully. Shortly thereafter, I'm sorry to say we spoke in very cranky and snappish demeanors. And also, these tasks became bargaining chips we would use, to cash in when we needed to. For instance, a three in the morning wake up call went something like this: "You take it! PLEASE? I'll wash every bottle and binkie tomorrow, I promise. Just let me sleep through this one, you're better during the night than I am anyway. You know you're more nocturnal, you get it from your mother."

And so it went. The counting, the swapping, the bargaining. Trading tasks like commodities for sleep instead of money, as sleep was the most valuable currency at the time. Not my proudest moment, but there it is. It went on like that for the first few months, constantly egging each other to take on more and more responsibility. We both knew it wasn't the best way to go. It was just the two of us though, we only had each other to turn to...and this was uncharted territory. We were out in the world, fending for ourselves. It's an odd feeling, having to depend on someone so much and being so grateful he's there to help, all the while trying to figure out how to get him to do even more so I could do less. It wasn't a very pretty side to my personality, I did know that...and yet I wasn't willing to do anything about it for a long time. The entire life I conducted before my daughter had radically changed forever, and I was clinging onto anything or anyone I could waiting for stabilization. Getting my husband to do one more thing, that was my way of coping. 

A few months went by (I don't remember exactly how many, as massive sleep reduction tends to fog my memory) and after a while, we adjusted and started to offer to help instead of bargaining to get out of it. I wish I could tell you that a pivotal event or an enlightened moment instantly transformed us to a better and more mature place to handle this. But that's not how it went down. We both needed time to adjust to our new life and demands, and like most things in life, we needed to feel and fumble our way through it. These days, amazingly, my husband and I will both hear our daughter one weekend morning and fight over who should get up with her. And there is no trace of being snappish or cranky. We communicate about it in a loving way, like two friends fighting over a check. I never knew if this day would come, but I am really glad it has. And, if I let him pay the bill, I always remember to tip him later.

Author: Amy