"Babymoon" is a term that didn't exist when I was having babies. I'm not too clear on the definition even now. To some it means taking your baby with you on vacation, which to me falls into the category of "well, duh!" but apparently it's now considered a big deal.
To other folks it means a period of seclusion following the birth of a baby, during which friends and family are encouraged to stay away for two weeks or even a month.The definition that fits best in this household is a period of time in which the new parents are relieved of some of some of their normal responsibilities in order to rest, recover, and bond together as a family. In particular, the new mother is provided sufficient help so that she can concentrate on meeting the needs of the new baby (and any other children she might have) and on her own recovery.
I wasn't sure what to think of this at first. In my day we were rebelling against the medical profession, which treated childbirth as an illness, and kept women pretty much confined to their beds for several days after birth. Inspired by the example of primitive women, who would give birth in the morning and be back working in the fields in the afternoon, we superwomen thought we could do it all ourselves.
By the time our first child was born, my own mother was dead and my mother-in-law was out of the country. Even had it been possible for someone to come stay with me for a while, however, I don't think I would have encouraged it. Having a baby was a perfectly normal event; why should I need pampering? Don't get me wrong: I greatly appreciated the days Porter took off from work to help out, and meals brought by friends were a wonderful blessing (especially since I gained some new recipes in the process). But on the whole, I was doing the whole homemaker routine on my own: cooking and cleaning as well as breastfeeding and changing diapers. That was my job and it never occurred to me to expect help. I liked it that way.
I was nuts.
I'm glad Heather and Jon have welcomed us into their home before and after Noah's birth. I'm happy to play with Jonathan while Heather and Noah nap, to take my turn holding Noah while she plays with Jonathan, to wash diapers and dishes, to make trips to the store, to fix meals. Not that I've done much of the latter yet, as their many friends have kept us well supplied with food, and Jon is a good cook as well. Okay, so I'm also exhausted, and have gained a new appreciation of why 54-year-olds are generally past the childbearing years, but I'm happy.
As a result, Heather is much more rested than I was after each of our children was born. She's sure that is speeding her healing, and I'm convinced it's keeping the dreaded postpartum depression away. Say what you want about hormones, I'd venture to guess 90% of postpartum depression is related to sleep deprivation. A happy, well-rested mother makes a huge difference to the household, and no doubt contributes greatly to a happy, contented baby.
(Far from being in seclusion for two weeks to a month, Heather and Jon have welcomed visitors from the beginning. Those who asked if they could bring meals were invited to bring enough so they could stay and join us, and some have done just that. You can tell this is a household of extroverts!)
