Stuck in my craw: 17 months
Tuesday, August 7, 2012 at 11:26AM My son turned 17 months yesterday. He celebrated by spinning around with stomping feet again and again until he was so dizzy that he careened into walls, the dog, the floor, laughing the entire time. The developmental leaps of 18 months seem close, a bittersweet moment for me.
At 17 months of motherhood, I don't call many people on the phone anymore. The overlapping zone in my personal Introvert's Venn diagram of available time + energy to talk is miniscule. There are some weeks where I can't even take one of my mom's daily phone calls.
I know there are friends out there who might be pissed off at me, angry that I've been sucked into the black hole of motherhood, or whatever they might imagine is happening in my world. I can't blame them; I hardly know what's going on myself, and I am in the center of my life. I remember watching similar distances stretch between me and friends who became mothers before me. I hope that I withheld judgment from them at the time.
If motherhood has taught me anything, it is that judgment of other mothers and of myself is infinitely useless and dangerous. I don't know shit about anyone else, and I would be an idiot to pretend that I do.
I send out messages in bottles via text, e-mail, photos on social media, hoping that these thin threads will keep me tethered to my existing community enough that it will not shun me when I eventually have the 30 minutes to pick up the phone and call someone to catch up on six months of life.
My time is parceled into paid work (owning a business), unpaid child care (which means nothing less than pouring love and non-stop close attention on a small human being whose self-preseveration and safety skills are still very minimal), arranging child care so we can do more paid work, eating, cleaning up, handling the dog, planning the next day with Chris, and, sometimes, sleep. The baby falls asleep at 9 these days, which leaves maybe two hours for diaper laundry, straightening the house, connecting with each other, and time to accomplish anything personal that requires concentration. Which, you can imagine (or know from personal experience) is a scarce resource at that hour.
Inside these days lives richness -- the pleasure of finalizing a long-term business project, the awe and pride of watching my son fasten the velcro on his shoe by himself, the spark of a new thought found in a quickly-read article or post from a fellow parent on a parenting forum.
They are full days. Linear time is warped and meaningless beyond the fact that it feels like there is never enough.
And yes, my son's birth and those 17 months have shifted almost everything about my inner life. In some places, I barely recognize myself anymore.
Yet, whatever it is that is "I" is still here.
That "I" is stretching to heal myself so I can parent more mindfully, more lovingly, more courageously. That "I" is pecking notes and memories and thoughts on my phone so I can explore them later. That "I" is taking photos with any camera I can get my hands on, even if it will be months until I can develop them.
This poem from Wendell Berry came to me from The Writer's Almanac the other day, and stopped me in my tracks:
It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come to our real work,and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.The mind that is not baffled is not employed.
The impeded stream is the one that sings.
I live in this space now, beyond the path, beyond the map, far beyond who I know myself to be.
I am waiting to hear the chorus my stream will sing.
~ ~ ~
All of this flows out of me today because I read a snippet of an article by Caitlin Moran the other day, a paragraph of which has been stuck in my craw, making me angry, irritable, defensive. This is from a chapter titled "Why You Shouldn’t Have Children" from her book "How to Be a Woman." (She is a mother of two, for the record.)
Because it’s not simply that a baby puts a whole person-ful of problems into the world. It takes a useful person out of the world as well. Minimum. Often two. When you have young children, you are useless to the forces of revolution and righteousness for years.
Two fires rage in me about this assertion. The first -- how dare you assert that parents of young children are somehow absent from the world? They are deeply immersed in the most basic elements of the world: guiding a new human being to master the elementary tasks of living on this planet. The second fire, one crackling with shame -- have I been taken out of the world? Is this true?
I cried while doing the dishes after dinner and bedtime last night, feeling these hot flames snap in my heart. So many of my friends would probably say that, yes, I have been lost to the world. Farewell, Jennifer. See you when you return.
But then I thought of the photos of mothers throughout time carrying babies at protests or nursing them as they sat at negotiation tables.
I thought of Adrienne Rich, whose radical thoughts on motherhood have guided many women through early years of mothering.
I thought of all the incredible bloggers whose young children have made them more invested in working toward the revolution.
I thought of the young parents I know, who struggle every day to answer the enormous questions that our country hasn't even been able to solve yet -- how do we work? When? Who cares for the children? When? How do we afford all of this? How do we satisfy our individual needs in the middle of this intense crucible? And, once we have resolved these questions for ourselves, how do we support others as they do the same? (Not everyone makes it to this step, but so many people do.)
Not all those who wander are lost.
We are those who wander through the wilderness of the unresolved issues of our society. Gender, race, class, economics, peace, community, care.
We are not lost.
Reader Comments (10)
Jennifer,
I am not a mother yet, but I love reading your gut here. You are not lost. Surrounded by my own fears of what parenthood might "do" to me one day, I am trying #1 to soften, #2 to remind myself that relationship-building with family might be the best way to grow, #3 to reach within for that humble place. From what I've heard, parenthood is a delightful, confusing, infuriating, mind-blowing, astounding, love-love-love fest. And so.... hats off to you.
And to Caitlin Moran, I would argue that one thing that feels so lacking in my own perspective is not being a parent. There are more parents than non-parents out there. I would like to be able to relate to the world. Plus, hello Caitlin, there are so many women in history (mothers) who have not been "useless to the forces of revolution."
Take this with a grain of salt, as I am not yet a parent, but the idea that teaching a child how to grow and make sense of the world is not a needed (and sadly, sometimes revolutionary) act is disingenuous. If you believe that the only useful thing you can do to change the world is go to protests or write letters to senators, then yes, parenting takes you out of that "useful" sphere. But I think that not only do you supply great use to the world when you add one more loved, thoughtful person to it, but that the process of parenthood may alchemize you to contribute to the world in ways you may not have been able to before.
As a mom who has entered a different stage of life, I would like to offer up these words of what I hope is encouragement. There will always be naysayers where rearing children are concerned. Those who might be jealous that they failed or wished they would have tried harder. We humans can get lost in anything we do - jobs, hobbies, marriage, friends, obsessions. You are not lost, you are just trying to mold the best little human you can. There will be time to reclaim that part of yourself you may feel you lost. But I imagine you will find that you did not lose yourself - you gained another outlook on the world itself. Children have a way of showing us adults how to rediscover our inner child. The freshness to see the world in a new light. I don't see this as losing oneself, I see it as gaining a new perspective of life and love for those around us.
Ah, Jennifer... always such a beautiful writer. I felt those same thoughts often as a mother of a 17 month old-- now, having been a mother for ten years for four 17 month olds, I hate to say those thoughts don't disappear. I think you just find a new way of looking at your purpose. Or maybe you don't-- and you just accept the differences in your life now. I often get frustrated at my tendency to say "well, when the kids are grown".... and argue "but why not NOW?!" But I know why not now-- because your children have to come first. Even if this means putting yourself aside (or your "old" self aside) and recognizing that by the time those kids are grown, you won't even be that self any more. We change. Life changes. We are changed by children and life, and while it is really REALLY hard to accept those changes, what else can we do? Would we even consider giving up motherhood for a moment? (Okay- for a moment, yes... but for life? :-) Love you.
I write this as my nearly three year old daughter sleeps on the floor in our new home because she claimed she was too tired to take a nap in her bed. Guess who was right about that.
There's a great deal to chew on and appreciate in this post and in your example. You do so much for so many while also attending to your role as parent/guide. That in itself deserves applause.
I've forgotten my cell phone even existed many times over the last few years. Sometimes I do miss connecting with distant friends (and myself). So little can be accomplished in that 9-11 pm slot you mentioned. I'll draw this to a close since there are now sounds from the floor. Just wanted to tell you I'm on the journey with you!
Jennifer, I love your writing style. It's really a pleasure to read. It is hard to feel like our work as mothers is worthwhile when we are constantly faced with both subtle and blatant indications everywhere that it is not valued. I'm feeling especially triggered by this right now as I try to go back to doing the tiniest amounts of what I was very good at prior to children, and I am struggling mightily. I feel like my brain is under cloud-cover. Was it worth what I lost? Will it come back? I do know that motherhood has given me a lot of gifts I don't think I would have received otherwise. I think I'm giving my kids an exceptionally great baby-, toddler- and childhood. I think those things are invaluable, but it's so hard to recognize that in the day-to-day.
This is a gorgeous contribution to the world, for starters. It was such a joy to read your words--such a pure and graceful representation of you.
I feel a ton of flexibility around how my friends communicate, especially when they are parents. If I have empathy for myself--and I try to--then I know that I'm not good on the phone and don't have much time for it, so I can only have integrity if I afford my friends that kind of empathy as well. The connection transcends some of these technicalities, even as I know it also needs togetherness to keep evolving.
With regard to the idea of disappearing, I can only saw that as I fully immerse in the external, traditionally-defined work world, I am constantly plagued by questions of what kind of meaning I'm making, whether my energy is put to good use, how to balance the reactive and the proactive, the money making and the relationship nurturing etc. etc. So I guess I'm already practicing the confusion that I can only imagine will be magnified by motherhood.
In any case, you're not disappeared. You're not alone. And I so admire your work of all kinds in the world.
As a non-mother, and as a friend, I continue to struggle with how to flag that I see the writing or producing or lawyering self, in addition to the mother self, of my friends. It would be great to get more concrete tips from moms about how their friends can best support them without making them feel pressured or making them feel like their mothering isn't valued.
As you immerse yourself in this amazing journey called "motherhood", stop for just the briefest of moments and offer affirmation to yourself for the commitment, the determination and the love that you have brought to this journey. These may be just words to some but for you it is a purposeful endeavor, well thought out and planned. "Absent from the world", I think not, nothing could be further from the truth. How can you be absent when you are raising a child up to be kind, to be creative, to be honest, have values and integrity, to recognize his gifts and know these gifts are meant to be shared. This child, Felix, who will one day be an adult and contributing his talents and gifts for the betterment of all, in this sometimes scary universe. So, what better way to be present in our world than to be entrusted to the privilege of being a "mom". I am so proud of the woman you are and even more so of your role as "mom". You are doing an incredible job loving, guiding and raising Felix. Never, ever doubt the importance of what you do.
Molly,
I had plenty of fears about what parenthood would do to me, too. To do it in a way that doesn't drive everyone crazy, it really does require a softening and easing up -- on yourself, on your partner, on your child -- in an enormous way. Parenthood can be a spiritual path, if you let it work its alchemy on you. Not that I'm the queen of that -- I resist it all.the.time.
I do think that becoming a parent helps you relate to other parents out there, but it's not required, certainly, nor is it automatic. Judgment runs high in parenting communities, and that nasty thread keeps anyone from relating to anyone else. I think you are primed to relate beautifully to anyone you put your loving attention on, parent or not.
Nora,
Yes. For certain. After I wrote this post, I thought to myself, "There is something wrong with a world that counts a person who is raising another human being as lost." Thanks for sharing your thoughts here. They never need salt!
MLC,
You make a good point about how people can get lost in anything. It does feel like the world -- or maybe the specific socio-economic sphere I come from -- is more critical of women who become absorbed in child-rearing. I don't think Chris struggles with this specific criticism, though he surely struggles with other things as a parent. It's good to hear from someone who has a few more years under her parenting belt.
Katryn,
Thank you so much for your kind words. You are on my mind a lot as I parent; mostly, I think of you in awe at all the incredible years you've spent mothering such happy, beautiful kids. I won't lie -- it's a little discouraging to think that these thoughts stick around. Although maybe I should just get comfortable with them, invite them to sit down for tea and stay awhile, to see if I can learn from them. I think about my "old" self sometimes, and I am profoundly aware that I will never again be that person. You're right that it's not just having children that changes us; just being alive changes us, and it behooves us to flow gracefully with that. Love you, too.
Cristina,
Thank you for your telegram from your new home and nearly three year old daughter -- how is that even possible?? So grateful to be on this journey with you, sending up flares when we can.
Annie,
Thank you so much for reading and chiming in. You found the perfect words for that brain sensation: under cloud-cover. Yes. So much. I was stunned by how true this was right after birth, and I am humbled by how long it has lingered. And I just have one child. Your questions of "was it worth it?" can feel haunting, but I try to remind myself that they're just specters; the only answer can be yes, because those decisions are done, made, over. All that is left is to keep moving. And I would second the kudos that you are giving your kids exceptionally warm and wonderful young years. You are doing a tremendous job. Thanks for sharing your journey!
Courtney,
Thanks, love. Your flexibility is surely appreciated by all of those who feel that gentle empathy. I think you bring up a good point -- that these questions of worth, legacy, energy spent are not the sole property of parents. Every thoughtful person on this planet has these moments of questioning, even if the questions have different vocabulary or syntax.
I love your question - it's a good one. My friends tend to be really thoughtful about this, asking about writing while giving the caveat that they don't mean to pressure me.
The simplest answer from my perspective is just to listen. The mother in question will probably offer up where she's feeling shaky at the moment. Sometimes it will be in the realm of creativity or career; sometimes it will be in her mothering; sometimes it might be neither. Listen for where she needs your loving attention, and then place it there.
The other truth is that, ultimately, there is no separation between the creative self and the mother self. Just as in intersectionalism, you can't separate the Latina woman from the queer woman from the feminist. Women who are mothers are all of these elements in one body and soul. Even if there are moments where it feels like metaphorical children (ideas, projects) are battling for the same scarce resources as actual children.
Laura,
You are such an encouraging, nurturing presence in my life, and I'm so grateful for that. Thanks for the reminder to get down to basics and remember all the details of what I'm doing under the big umbrella of "mothering."
Dearest Jennifer, This thoughtful, insightful, fury-full post is alight with all that is enlivened by mothering. The question of personal utility, the question that wonders whether I can be effective while being a mother or being anywhere else engaged and focused brings me to the realization that as women, as nurturers- whether the recipients of our attention are our offspring or our elders, or, dare I suggest, ourselves, we are always making a choice.
And, the radical act today is to choose yourself. Even before your children.
Yes, you make that choice by parenting consciously.
You make that choice by offering yourself the comfort of time, whenever you can.
And you can make that choice more and more often just simply by agreeing that you are in the right place at this very moment- when your legs are pinioned with arms, dog and boy, and the stuff of life...that the chaos of womanhood is made splendid by our agreeing that this is right and real and enough.
Just because we are good at multitasking does not mean we should do it 24/7 nor that we should shuttle self care to the bottom of the list because phone calls and social responsibilities that once were fun and daily and fit in to our days easily. Like a multifaceted Fresnel lamp, you are brighter, stronger and more vivid in your fracturing. You are focused in your mothering and more excellent by the day.
Keep telling us how it is for you.
I wlll do the same for me and where we meet, is hallowed ground.
All my love, S