Open Letter

You came home, my parents’ guest. You hardly know me, we are meeting after almost a year. You see my baby, hold her….play with her. Fine.

Then you tell me, “She is so thin! Don’t you feed her?”

I felt the need to be defensive, I claim she takes after her slim grandparents. I tell you how the doc says she is thriving well. Her growth is absolutely fine for her age. I don’t give you a piece of my mind. Funny, I thought I would have given anyone who said that a long lecture. I didn’t.

Because you don’t know how many nights I stayed up feeding her by the hour. You have no idea how sore each part of my body was, coping with the stress. You don’t have a clue how much I have fretted over her pees and poops, the color and frequency- all indirect evidence of adequacy of her feed. You don’t know how it breaks a mother’s heart when someone accuses her, directly or indirectly that she isn’t giving her baby the best.

I forgive you, and I thank you. You have no idea of how much your supposed smartness can give some mother some blogging material.