When I had my first child, I was determined that I would teach my kids proper words for body terms. No “willies” and “special girl parts” for me. My kids were going to understand that babies grew inside my uterus and that they weren’t brought by the stork. They were going to understand that a special milk for babies came from breasts.
That led to some – well, let’s call them interesting – discussions in some less than ideal places. More than once, a little one piped up more loudly than I would have liked in a shopping mall that some lady’s breasts must be broken because her baby was drinking milk from a bottle. It’s not easy explaining to a toddler that not every mummy chooses (or is able to) to feed her baby that way and that that’s OK. But I persevered, and I think that openness right for the start made some of the tween and teen conversations we faced in recent years a little less awkward.
My kids are all jammed close together – three in under four years – so when my youngest was born, there was a lot of talk, especially with my eldest about how the baby was growing, when she was going to come and how we were getting ready for her.
My boys both had a “baby” of their own – dolls I naively hoped they would cuddle and treat gently, in preparation for their sister to arrive. I should have known from the first doll attempt while preparing my first for his brother that I was being just a little optimistic. Those poor “babies” got pounded, thrown down stairs and dragged through the dirt. The boys were far more interested in their cars and toy trains.
My delivery day came and went. Like her brothers before here, my daughter was in no hurry to arrive. An induction date was selected, grandparents arrived and the whole thing went off on schedule. Anxious to get back to my family and out of the hospital, I brought my daughter home as soon as they’d let me, and the boys seemed to love her. The grandparents headed home after a couple of days, and I learned how to be a Mum to three little ones. Life had achieved a new normal.
So imagine my surprise, sitting outside in the back yard with guests one evening several months later, when my eldest, now getting a little closer to four, pipes up, clearly confused. “Mummy, how did my sister get out of your uterus?” As I tried to pull together some age appropriate answer, I must have said something like ladies having a special tunnel in their body that the baby comes through.” Silence. “Oh good,” I thought, ”That must have satisfied him.” I patted myself on my back, through the baby brain fog, figuring I’d hit the mark, when he exclaimed joyfully, “Oh, just like Thomas the Tank Engine!”
After we composed ourselves, I had to explain that it wasn’t quite like Thomas coming through a tunnel (she was almost 9 1/2 pounds!), but that it was close. That was enough to make him happy, and he scampered off again to play. I was reminded, not for the first time, how kids think and how important it is to give them the right amount of information, while staying truthful and true to your goals – and most importantly, how when they give you the chance, to laugh!
