My life has changed dramatically in the last two years, and by default, so have I. I'd say I've done a pretty bang-up job of rolling with the punches and making the best of it all - good and bad - but really, I worry I've just made it through with more good days than bad. If that's true, I'd be okay with that. I'm proud of that.
I read a BlogHer post this morning by Janelle from Renegade Mothering on how motherhood changes you, and it really resonated with me. It's called Beautiful Catastrophe: The Death and Rebirth of Becoming a Mother.
Beautiful catastrophe. I don't think I have ever heard someone describe my feelings on motherhood as succinctly as this.
Let me first say, without hesitation, that I absolutely adore being a mother to my two rugrats. They are the light of my life, and I wouldn't change a thing. But just because I love our life and our family doesn't mean it's not tough or that I don't question myself on a daily basis. And at the end of the day, I think we do a pretty good job...but who am I to guess whatever it is I'm doing today that will send my daughter into therapy when she's older? Ah well, that's something I try not to think about. We do the best we can do for our children day in and day out, and that is all we can do - nothing more, nothing less.
I am extremely lucky to have a husband whom I adore to tackle this journey with me. He's really and truly an amazing dad and spouse and teammate; now, I'm the first one to forget it, and I should have my hand smacked for that. He deserves all of the grace he gives me, imperfect and difficult as I am. My goal since we got married has always been to choose my battles wisely - love more, criticize less. You know the saying - our thoughts become our beliefs, our beliefs become our actions...so in reminding myself to appreciate everything Nathan does instead of getting irked for how he does it, I think I'm able to save myself a lot of frustration and heartache. (Granted, this isn't a perfect system, but it does tremendously help me in keeping a positive perspective.)
But you know, although he's super hands-on and involved with and responsible for our children, I found there to be something very alienating and lonely about becoming a mom. This is just my experience of course - but in that Beautiful Catastrophe post I mentioned, Janelle shares her feeling of jealousy at how her husband got to leave and go to work while she stayed, attached to a newborn, feeling like she'd never get to leave again. That struck a huge chord with me; the first few weeks of Ryland's life, I felt suffocated in this house. This tiny, perfect baby that wanted to breastfeed constantly, something I didn't have the responsibility of with Georgia since I pumped and bottle-fed (that had its own difficulties, but someone else could always give her a bottle and share the responsibility). I started to resent that Nathan got to leave every day for work and come home in the evening after 8 glorious hours away. I even grew jealous of my daughter, only 14 or 15 months old at the time, because of how much freedom she had that it seemed like I would never get back. And don't even get me started on my friends and coworkers. How dare they continue living their lives and leaving their homes and going out for coffee while I was jailed like this?
All the while, during this time I would lose myself gazing in amazement at my angels, joining my husband in adoration of our little family that WE created. We'd gotten everything we'd ever dreamed about. The rollercoaster of emotions was almost to much to bear.
And of course, I did get my freedom back, in my own way. Ryland started sleeping longer stretches, I was able to start pumping and share feedings with the help of bottles, and of course, I went back to work (which is still like a daily vacation to me). My hormone-laden, cabin-fevered hysteria quickly wore off and I eased back into normalcy of both schedule and mental state. I quickly regained the luxury of a glass of wine and more than 2 cups of coffee. What seemed like a black hole I'd never come out of was, in the grand scheme of things, quite a short-lived panic.
But fast forward to today, and while I contentedly travel through our day-to-day of morning sounds, workdays, evening family time, thank-God-they're-asleep time and my head hitting the pillow, I still struggle with an ache for the old me. What happened to her? I refuse to accept that she just died, gone forever, but I don't know that she's here with me, either. If she is, she's a shadow of the girl I once was, hiding inside the woman I am today. The mother I am today.
And is that a bad thing? I don't think so. I believe changes of self are not only inevitable, they're necessary and important. It's called awareness and growth. Mindfulness and thankfulness.
While I joke as much as the next tired momma, I get very frustrated at singular interpretations of what it is to be a parent. Jest I might, but motherhood is certainly not drudgery and struggle and wistful thinking; and in the same breath, it is certainly not sunshine and laughter and bliss.
No, motherhood is not any of these things; it's all of them mashed up together in unequal parts and zero regularity, and they equal joy and engaged living and honesty about what I'm going through as I begin this amazing journey.
And I have to remember that, too -- it is just the beginning. Nathan and I were having a tough time a couple months ago managing our expectations with reality, and together we came to the realization that this is our life, we wanted and want it, we chose and choose it. Therefore, constantly waiting impatiently for the next break or nap or vacation and constantly wishing for the hassle-free days of our past weren't going to do us any good at all. We needed to snap ourselves into the present and just live it, good and bad, sickness and health, richer or poorer, you know that old rhyme...
Things have been exponentially better around here since we made that discovery. A simple change in perspective is all we needed to fill our minds with healthy thoughts and healthy attitudes.
Motherhood really is a beautiful catastrophe. Parenting and family and children and life are beautiful catastrophes.
I would hardly call all my internal change over the last two years a disaster or chaos or any other number of phenomena with negative connotations. But I think to avoid the strange woman I see facing me in the mirror is a mistake. She's here to stay, so we might as well get to know one another.
I'm finding that I actually quite like her.
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