When I Was A Baby Essay

[Toney Talbot]

Althoughit is common for juvenile and female monkeys to take an interest in infant monkeys and to want to touch and even hold the infants, this is the only time I have seen a monkey with her own small baby take another baby and without permission. This may be unusual or rare behaviour, and it is rare to capture it on camera in a suburban garden.

This encounter took place in early summer in the middle of the day. A monkey mom was keeping her baby close but letting it play with a plant. I sat in one place some distance away, and although aware of me, they seemed unflustered by my presence or even when eventually I slowly lifted my camera.

An adult male came and sat next to them but was ignored by the mother who carried on grooming. But as you can see in this picture below, the baby was watching what turned out to be another monkey (at the time unnoticed both by the mother and by me) that was approaching.

Next thing, an adult female monkey nursing a slightly larger baby, snatched the baby away from its mother. The baby opened its mouth in alarm and its mother looked up too late from her self-grooming to react. The male next to her watched but took no part in the interaction.

The mom then reached in slowly and tried to retrieve her baby but the snatcher moved away, carrying both babies. The mom followed and sat next to the snatcher and quietly and slowly made several attempts to take her baby back. The snatcher quietly elbowed her off or pushed her away.

The mom then decided to change tactics. She moved around and sat behind the snatcher who loosened her grip on the baby while the baby looked around. Suddenly the mom made her moved and reached around and took her baby back. This time the snatcher put up no resistance.

Sharing insights and celebrating the creatures and plants that enrich suburban spaces, with images from my previous KZN garden and current Western Cape garden in South Africa, and from wild places further afield.

A curious incident and I support your thoughts that maybe the mother was asserting her dominance over a lower ranking female. Thankfully it ended peacefully. Recently observed a female baboon trying to snatch a baby and a whole possie of females getting involved in chasing the abductor off. I find baboon watching and other non-human primates endlessly fascinating ?

Thanks so much Susan. And I am glad that you enjoyed seeing vervet monkeys on your trip to South Africa. Although seeing the so-called Big Five when on safari is wonderful, its also great to be open to appreciating the myriad other forms of life, big and small ?

Seven years ago, I was newly pregnant and, honestly, a bit freaked out. Matt and I had been married for seven years and we knew we wanted kids. I just wasn't sure I wanted to be a mom. You see, I liked my life as it was. I liked my job, I liked my freedom, I liked being in control, plus I wasn't much of a baby person. I knew having kids would change things and I wasn't sure I wanted to make those changes.

Fast-forward seven years. Last week we celebrated Adelyn's first birthday. Addie, our third (and last) baby, is technically not a baby anymore. And that makes me sad. For the past few weeks, I've found myself paying more attention to the last moments of Addie's baby stage. I have been taking more joy in her giggles, rocking her for a few extra minutes and just taking the time to recognize that these moments won't last forever, and much to my surprise, that saddens me a bit.

With our first two, I often found myself wishing away the early months and years. What got me through the first few months of our colicky first child was setting mini-goals. Okay, if we make it to six weeks, things will get better. Okay, now we just need to make it to three months. Okay, now six months&. The adjustment to motherhood was a tough one and my high-needs baby didn't make it any easier for me.

When baby number two came along, I was still worn out from the first one. I once again spent most of that first year hoping to speed through it, so we could get back to normal life. Then we had our last baby. Suddenly I began to enjoy the baby stage and not wish it away quite so quickly.

Don't get me wrong; there have been moments along the way that I've wanted to speed through. For instance, I very clearly remember that in those last moments of labor before she was born, the mantra that got me through it was, Just push her out and you will never have to go through labor again. It will all be over. Just push. Just push. There were also fussy breastfeeding sessions that made me long for toddlerhood when she would be weaned.

Yet overall, I have been enjoying her babyhood more than with the first two. I'm sure some of that has to do with the fact that I have a few years of experience under my belt. But I think a greater part is that I realize this stage of life we are in is about to change and we will never return to it. With every milestone Addie reaches (signing, crawling, talking, walking), I can't help but think these are our last firsts. This is the last time one of our kids will reach this milestone for the first time&just when I felt like I was actually getting the hang of things.

I know they must grow up and that things will continue to change. But for just a few minutes longer, I want to hold on to my baby and rock her and sing to her and kiss her full cheeks. Seven years ago, I had no idea that I'd ever want those things so strongly. Seven years ago, I was afraid of how motherhood would change me. Yet, seven years later, I realize how blessed I am to get to experience it, and to grow and learn right alongside my kids. Who knew these last firsts would happen so quickly?

Giving Birth with Confidence is a Lamaze International blog to share trusted resources, stories, and answers for expecting parents. To share your birth story or contribute an article, please contact Cara Terreri.

In desperation, I reached out to my undergrad mentor, who did not have children but always had sound advice. Her words almost became a mantra to me: women are fully capable of birthing babies and Ph.D.s -- you got this.

It did not seem to matter much that I had a loving partner with a good job. Or that my mother relocated just to help me out. Many people seemed to ignore or were unaware of my background -- of being raised by a young single mother myself -- and that I was used to jumping through hoops to find academic success. Despite my persistence, I began to feel left out.

For instance, that year after my son was born, I was not asked to rejoin research projects that I had previously been involved with. I did not receive additional incentives to travel to conferences as I had before. I could not attend department happy hours as often and began to be left out of the grad student social scene, as well. By the end of my third year, I felt more alienated, stressed and unsure of my path than I did in my first year of the program.

Not only did I face preconceptions about parenthood as a woman, but I also believe implicit biases about black mothers created additional burdens. In itself, graduate school can be a source of trauma for students of color. And Patricia Hill Collins has written about the damaging Eurocentric views of black motherhood that moms inside and outside of academe have to combat. My position as a black mother and student intersected to pattern my experiences.

This was bias, implicit or not, and it was wrong. I attempted to correct their perceptions by delving into my work and confronting misconceptions head-on when I could muster up the courage. I would be remiss not to share my gratitude for the supportive peers and faculty who encouraged my success and bravery -- like the grad students who stepped in as babysitters or the professors who invited me over their houses for dinner. I would not have made it through that sometimes toxic space without allies that served as positive antidotes. But even so, it was a struggle to get out of grad school with my Ph.D. and my baby.

Mothers of color should not have to battle in the trenches just to save their babies and degrees. More work needs to be done, and at a larger scale, to create safe space for babies and parents in academe. I share my experiences to shed light on the mistreatment I experienced so students can recognize they are not alone and so that faculty members might reflect on their roles. To this end, I will offer advice and policy solutions in my next post.

Do you know what it feels like to give birth to a child and never hear him cry? Or be discharged from a maternity unit with a memory box in place of the baby just delivered? I know what this feels like because this is how my journey to motherhood began. Having gone through these heartbreaking experiences, I still cannot find the words to articulate accurately or encompass the magnitude of my pain.

How was I supposed to give birth to a lifeless child, express milk from breasts prepared to nourish that child, and be productive in any capacity? My entire life came crashing down. The pain worsened when I sat at a funeral home, making arrangements to hold a memorial to remember my child, whom I knew solely by his movements inside my belly.

Single Mom Defined, a photo essay and video series, provides a much more accurate definition about single Black motherhood than the one society presents. Often, when single Black mothers are discussed or Googled, they are crammed into the same stereotypical storyline when in fact they each took a unique path to parenthood.

Our inspirational speaker popped up on the stage. He told us to find our purpose, to dream big, and that we could do anything we put our minds to. Prominent academic staff reminded us that we were in the birthplace of activism, something-something prestigious. Over the next few months, I started to sip the kool-aid-kombucha-soda-pop. The hustle and bustle of my fellow students and the celebration of individual success made me start to believe that I could achieve something meaningful and great too.

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