On Motherhood and Change
Today all my plans got thrown out the window. The sleeping enough so I could have the capacity to pick up a book instead of watching TV again. The naps in the bassinet so I might get 20 minutes to myself. The getting groceries and meal prepping so I could build some sanity and space into my week.
Instead, I’m nursing my baby to sleep because that’s the only way he’ll sleep with today’s need for comfort. Instead, I’m shifting my expectations from some productivity to another day of contact naps, of worrying that I’m building poor sleep habits for Atlas and not helping him develop enough when he’s awake, and to just generally trying to get through the next 24 hours because that’s all my tired brain can handle thinking about.
I wouldn’t generally categorize myself as an anxious person. I tend to go with the flow (read: create routines that I intentionally follow), and am usually accepting of problems that come my way (read: I figure out how to solve them so I can move past them). In other words (if I’m completely honest), no, I’m generally not super anxious, except for when things feel out of my control.
Let me tell you. Motherhood in the newborn / infant season equals no control. Or at least, very little. I love Atlas. His smiles, his squawks, the way he makes us laugh with his frenetic kicks and silly cooing. And also, he’s taken away my autonomy over my time and days. Life is better with him in it, one hundred percent. And also, the loss of control has been hard.
As I sit here and write, baby in arms, I can’t help but grieve and worry. I mourn my lack of sleep, drive, and creativity. I wonder how to define my sense of personal identity, including and without that of being a mom. I question the value of how I spend my time these days as I rinse and repeat nap time, walks, play time… without knowing how to change anything to feel more in tune with myself.
But mostly I wonder who I am now that I’m a mom.
The year before getting pregnant was the most -me- I’ve ever felt. My actions and words lined up with how I wanted to move through the world, how I wanted to show up for myself and others. My time was spent hosting dinner parties, writing and creating, showing up with intention and integrity, going on dates with Stu, hiking and exploring and generally #livingmybestlife (which, let’s be real, was possible because of being a DINK - double income no kid).
But now we have the kid. Now I am a mom. Now my priorities are reoriented and redefined based off of my little one’s needs and personality and daily developments. I’m so thankful we have a healthy kiddo whose only real struggle at this point is sleep. And also, the lack of sleep and routine makes it hard to embrace life in the ways I’m used to.
And also…. I keep writing those two words - “and also…”. Because nothing about motherhood or identity or time or learning in this season feels like just one thing. Instead, it’s brutiful, as Glennon Doyle would say — brutal and beautiful. Hard, and also breath-taking. Draining, and also worth-while. Something I wouldn’t trade for the world, and also sometimes my biggest resentment on my most tired days.
I’m sure I’ll find that version of myself again, the one who feels aligned and grounded and free. I’m sure as Atlas gets older we’ll find more sleep and capacity. But for today, I’m anchored to a couch with my babe in my arms, heart full of love and brain processing grief. And I’m letting that be enough.
To anyone else in new spaces, processing new identities, may we make space for grief, knowing that the change can be good and awful and beautiful all at once. And also, may we hold space for messy hope, recognizing that this hard part isn’t forever, that someday, sometime, we’ll look up and realize that we’ve found ourselves again.
