Apparently I was born with a doggedly independent nature. "Me do" was my mantra as a toddler. Once, when I was 3, my family was eating out. My mother was about to tell the waitress what to bring for me, but I piped up, "I want to order myself!"

This self-reliant spirit would continue throughout my life. Being so determined — er, stubborn — it was difficult for me to ask for and accept help. Finally, though, I reached a humbling point where it was impossible do it all myself: the first few months after giving birth.

Having prepared extensively for pregnancy and childbirth, my husband and I naively thought that we could manage the first two weeks post-birth by ourselves. What did we know about the pain of recovery, breastfeeding difficulties and the extreme sleep deprivation that comes from waking up every few hours around the clock?

Although my husband is accustomed to being on call, that initial fortnight was even more fatiguing than medical training. When awakened suddenly by the newborn's cries, he would mumble, "Where am I?" or "Do I have a baby?"

WINGED KOKUA

Even more exhausted, I barely had time for the lowest rung of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, basic life functions such as eating and showering. A bevy of problems nursing had me in pain and our infant hungry (i.e., crying), which led to yet less rest.

Thankfully my in-laws had arranged to come once my husband went back to work. After a month of constant daytime assistance — cooking, cleaning, running errands and soothing baby — they flew back to the Mainland.

"We were so tired that we had to rest for two weeks after returning home," my normally energetic mother-in-law sighed.

Family continued to fly in to provide relief. My brother and his fiancee visited for a few days; my parents for a week. After this, we were on our own again, and recalled what the instructor of our new baby care class had advised us: "Accept help."

'IT TAKES A VILLAGE'

Even in our state of near-desperation, it was hard to request aid without being able to quickly reciprocate, but we knew it was necessary. Humbling ourselves, we began to welcome the munificence of others.

My good friend flew in from the Midwest. Instead of using her vacation time to loll on the beach, she sacrificially spent a week preparing meals and giving our condo a well-needed scrubbing. People from church dropped by with food, offered to go shopping, or took the infant for a stroll. For over a month, our kindly neighbor cooked dinner for us. It was not just standard fare, either; she and her husband had previously managed a restaurant, so the food was hands-down 'ono.

"It takes a village to raise a child," states the African proverb. As the months passed, we gradually returned to normalcy. Without the support of family and friends, however, our recovery would have been much slower.

Now it is our turn to lend a helping hand or simply a listening ear to other families, especially those with newborns or otherwise in need. This circle of help will continue as we baby-sit each others' toddlers, carpool when the kids are in elementary school, and keep track of our children's whereabouts when they become teenagers. Indeed, we need one another, for no 'ohana is an island.

Monica Quock Chan is a freelance writer who lives in Honolulu with her husband and daughter.

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