Yesterday I wrestled with ambivalence about what I’ve wrought by having a child.
There are no vacations from this. Every day will be about getting this child fed, clothed, bathed, keeping her occupied. Her needs always first. No matter what, I feel a tension. I’m aware that I’m always on call, not knowing the next time Pixie will need something, so it feels as though I can’t start anything or delve very deeply into anything, because I may have to drop it. I’m struggling with accepting that. My mother said she remembers this feeling, but she was much younger and with no years of living according to her own plans and desires, so it may have been easier to embrace.
The odd thing is, before she was born I wasn’t doing a whole lot; I was on my computer for hours, read books, etc. But I had complete freedom to do whatever I wanted whenever I wanted, and I only had to consider myself. This is no longer true. Even if someone comes to babysit, there’s a time when I’m expected to return, and I’m aware I need to return.
This tension is taking a toll physically too. In the mornings my feet hit the floor running. Once Husband comes to bed after finishing his “shift,” I awaken, knowing that sometime in the next hour or so she’ll cry and it will be my turn to start the day. So I lose precious sleep. Then, once I’m up, the tension moves to my intestinal track, specifically the lower, which makes be wonder if I’m developing irritable bowel syndrome.
What aggravates is that I do not let myself immerse in any activity of my choosing, because some part of me is always aware of her. Why start something if I will have to leave it?
What I need to do is find a way to fully attend to whatever I’m doing in the moment, and to find a way to quickly engage and disengage from anything I’m doing for myself. Otherwise my life is spent as a lady-in-waiting. At this point I’m only able to let go if Husband is on duty. Last night he urged me to soak in the tub, which I did for an hour. I had to continually return my mind, my attention, to experience the scented water. Now, I’m not saying I should be able to take a long soak when I alone am in charge, but even reading is something I’ve sacrificed. I don’t pick up a book to read anymore. I can’t settle into it. Even magazines don’t get read. I skim a lot on the web, but that gets boring after while. And even on the web I find myself reading stupid shit, gossip websites, rather than some of the good stuff that’s out there.
Perhaps the approach I need to aim for is what Zen means.
I hesitate to offer advice but, have you thought of employing a babysitter to care for your baby for just a few hours so that you can sit in another room and do absolutely nothing? Or go for a jog/get your hair cut/whatever pleases you?
We all need time out occasionally
And this feeling is entirely natural, the feeling of having stepped, voluntarily, onto a conveyor belt of motherhood from which you can’t escape
It gets easier, it really does get easier
Babies develop, become more independent, need you less until one day they fly the nest and you are left longing for the days that you describe now
If I say, Relax, Breathe, Enjoy each moment you’ll hate me, yes????
Ah yes, I do have friends who come to care for her for a few hours each week. (We can’t afford a babysitter.) The point is that even though this happens, I’m still dealing with this internal tension, this adjustment, to my new life. It’s just something I’m going to have to square with. That’s more what I was mulling over. I appreciate the reassurance that it gets easier. What I’m hoping for is that it gets more comfortable for me, more natural.
Perhaps there is a little bit of postpartum depression happening. just a thought.
Oh Kathryn you are progressing right on schedule! What a perfect mother you are. And now perhaps you see that for all the talk people about “living in the moment,” all the air we give it, we always mean some other kind of moment, a moment of our choosing, and not what is. You are giving immediate, play-by-play narration to the experience of all new mothers, and I thank you. Absolutely it gets more comfortable. The skin transplant you are undergoing is quite uncomfortable at this very moment.
I remember this so well.
It does get. . . .what. Easier? More comfortable? Known? I’m not sure what word to use. Only that I know that feeling and I remember with such clarity how strange it was and how overwhelming at times,t o feel so hightendly aware of him ALL THE TIME.
And then it becomes a part of you.
thank-you for writing with such honesty about exactly what it is.
my sister was much like you are as a new mother, always putting her babies’ needs first and fretting over them. my best friend, on the other hand, changed her life very little. she nurtured her babies, fed them, talked to them, played with them, read to them, bathed them, etc., but she continued her life. she hauled her babies into the bathroom and took her bath while they slept in a carrier or watched her. sometimes she put them in the tub with her for their own relaxation after she finished her own comfort time. she chatted on the phone and watched television while her babies slept or played in their swings or walkers. she read when they took naps or when they were asleep at night or when someone else had them. she shared her babies with her friends and enjoyed the time she had alone any time we wanted a baby for a day. those of us who had no kids enjoyed these days when we were surrogate moms. she didn’t change anyone’s schedule in her home – she simply added each baby (3) to her current life. my sister had fairly strict naptimes and bedtimes for her girls after which the sounds in the house were diminished…no loud talking, no television at normal high volume, etc. my sister’s life changed dramatically during the first 3 years of each baby. my friend decided the kids would need to get used to the noises of the house and to the fact that life is not perfectly scheduled so she changed nothing to any serious degree. she put the babies down for sleep and left them there while life went on normally around her. she tried to stick to a general bedtime within a 90 minute buffer zone, but she didn’t panic when something interesting was happening which shifted that. she enjoyed her life. naptimes depended on many things, none of which was carved in stone. she stayed up late and slept late. her babies did, too!
i don’t have any kids so i don’t know…was she lucky or did she create her smooth flowing life by continuing to live her life even after she became a mom. by the way, her kids are now grown, no one went to prison, everyone went to college, and all is relatively happy in her world. my sister’s kids turned out the same. it is all an interesting proposition.
Sarina, it sounds as though your best friend’s babies did not have colic and eating problems. I too had intended to live much as she did, only life presented me something else. For background on all of how life has been for me, feel free to read all the posts in the motherhood category.
And actually, what I was aiming for here is my awareness of the fundamental change that becoming a mother creates… this awareness of responsibility and relationship that extends beyond one’s own ego.
The truth is that not only are some babies more difficult (through no fault of their own) than others, but some of us don’t adjust as smoothly to the new way of being as others do. As a Postpartum Depression survivor, I know I did not experience the “normal” introduction to motherhood. Thank goodness I had some help at the time in my small household, at least initially. But I did not understand for many years, until the birth of my youngest child and a subsequent hospitalization, how much of a role being depressed, even as moderately as I was after the first child’s birth, played in my adjustment to motherhood. I did not perceive myself as being blue or sad, but I could not figure out how to do anything more than the basics for myself and my little son. And even that was a stretch.
It was 1986, and my impression of Postpartum Depression was more like what we know now as Postpartum Psychosis. The friend of a friend was found eating cat food and hospitalized, that sort of thing. I looked around me at other new moms and saw that they functioned effortlessly, and I despaired. I decided I was just not good at being a mother. With the 20-20 vision that is the hindsight of 21 years, I know none of that was true. I was simply not 100% myself, and it went beyond the normal physical recovery from childbirth. My head, my brain chemistry, was not right.
If you are feeling any of these things, or some version of them, I hope you will be able to talk to your doctor about it. And if I’m barking up the wrong tree, feel free to ignore this.
Ah, yes, the oh my God what have I taken on moment of motherhood….
It is a big responsibility to have to care so completely for another human being. It’s far different than a marriage or other relationship, and the intensity of it is far greater. Yes, it changes you, and you are going through that change right now. Be assured you will remain “you” in most ways, perhaps with an even deeper sense of who “you” are once you get beyond that stage now where you are just a part of “we”.
You need to learn to “rest in the moment” as they say in yoga practice. When you’re feeding the baby, rest. When the baby is napping, rest. When you’re walking around with the screaming baby, rest. Etc…. Don’t worry about getting into things deeply right now. Shallowness in relation to the rest of the world is ok for a while here.
“until one day they fly the nest”
Keep promising me this. My kids are 21 and 18 and still here….