Spoiler alert: It did not.
I sincerely thought I had a leg up on the non-farming set of expectant mothers with my experience caring for lactating animals that had the same gestational length as me. I really, truly did. My husband and I were that couple joking about calving ease with our midwife at prenatal appointments, and all of the oxytocin jokes I shared with lactation consultants turned out to be letdowns.
However, dairy farming did not prepare me for complications that arose during labor, and it most certainly didn’t prepare me for saying “see ya later” to my newborn son (as I was coming out of anesthesia from an emergency C-section) before he boarded a helicopter without me. Nothing prepared me for a baby that had a hard time nursing and gaining weight at first because we spent the first couple of days of our new lives together apart.
I was such a sweet summer child to think that I was just going to sail through parturition and the fresh period solely because I had an advanced understanding of those physical processes.
As it turns out, there’s nothing in the world that can prepare you for the likelihood of something going wrong when the information you have on hand has been pointing to it all going right. Even if everything was to go right bringing our son into the world and bringing him home, there was nothing that could have completely prepared me for the all-consuming transition from wife to mother.
However, after a year and some change later, I have discovered that motherhood has made me a better farmer in a number of ways.
First and foremost, I had to learn to ask for help. New motherhood is beautiful and brutal all at the same time. It took whatever hyper-independence I had left and smashed it into bits.
Being the oldest daughter in a single-parent household meant that a lot of responsibilities were dumped in my lap, and I needed to catch on quick because I probably wasn’t going to get any help. Later on, the mere possibility of asking for help during internships and off-farm employment was enough to make me break into a cold sweat and reduce me to stammering. I was humbled when I had to ask my husband to help me get dressed after that first post-birth shower.
Even 16 months later, I have a hard time asking for something as simple as a water refill when I’m nap trapped in the recliner, needing to tag team a very mobile little boy for a diaper change or just having a second body around to move cattle because I still can’t move as fast as I once did – but I’m getting better at it.
I also learned that I can’t do it all – and that’s OK. My husband and I have a multigenerational farm, and we’re incredibly blessed to have the village that we do. I’m the type of person who wasn’t going to slow down unless I was forced to, and nothing forces a slowdown like a major shift in priorities (aka having a baby). I’m not doing the amount of farm work that I used to, and sometimes I resent not being out in the barn or the field as much as I used to be during busy seasons. As OK as this is, it’s still hard and I’m still adjusting to my new role. It’s not either/or. It was a good and hard lesson for me to learn that I could do anything, but I can’t do everything.
Then I remember that being Titus Olson’s mom is an even more important vocation than being a dairy farmer, and simply being in the house spending quality time with our little boy is hard and sacred work. All that said, my attention has never been more divided – but my love for our family and our life on the farm has been multiplied.
Lastly, a layer of dimension and purpose has been added to what we do here on our farm now that Sam and I are parents.
Knowing that there’s a potential sixth generation drives us to do better, whether that’s making improvements to facilities, incorporating more conservation practices, making the farm safer for Titus to be around or simply keeping focus on the long game when making decisions.
Of course Titus has a lot of time to change his mind, but that little boy already loves being around cows, crops and tractors. It’s been a blessing and a privilege to watch him grow and teach him, little by little, about the industry and lifestyle we devote our lives to. He’s going to learn more about the world than we’ll ever know, but on the flipside he has taught us more than he could learn from us.
Motherhood, and parenthood in general, is similar to dairy farming in that you never get a day off and you’re always needed by someone somewhere for something. It’s as challenging as it is rewarding, and there’s no "right" way to do it. Like farming, you can learn as much about parenting as you possibly can, but nothing will prepare you for what it’s like until you’re in the thick of it.
Whether you’re raising dairy cattle, raising kids or both, you’re probably not doing it wrong – it really is this hard, and it really is this wonderful all at the same time.
If you’re a farming parent and you’re reading this, you’re doing great.
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