So, it would be a complete understatement to say that these days I'm scared. A lot. And of course I'm afraid of childbirth (although my ObGyn patted me on the knee yesterday and reminded me that women have been birthing babies since the beginning of time and then proceeded to tell one of those "funny, funny" stories about a woman who, while delivering, let out some sort of Towanda type warrior yawp that stunned her husband into a mute, stationary trance), but it's more than that.
It's more than even being afraid about being responsible for another human being. I'm firmly confident that I can keep him clothed and fed; it's the whole "how do you keep him from climbing a bell tower with a loaded rifle" type thing, though a student reminded me today that that sort of thing might have more to do with misfiring synapses than with actual upbringing. And yeah, I AM being dramatic. But really, how do you direct a person's character? At least I've got the guidance of the ones who guided me, and I suppose you might say that I turned out OK... so far. So that's not the whole of it.
I think what frightens me most is the fact that I am losing myself. I'm walking a very fine line these days, balancing the mandatory changes that come with having a baby (those that are already here and those that are coming quickly) with being who I am, or rather who I want to be. And how will I allow my life to move forward without getting totally consumed, as most wonderful mothers are, with my baby? I am already annoyed at myself for having little conversation/thought beyond baby names and pregnant girl ailments (this blog post is exhibit A).
Also, my relationships are changing: 1. The way in which people communicate with me and 2. The way in which I communicate with others.
1. It's true that when you are pregnant, you have joined an exclusive club of mothers who are eager to swap stories. And how can you blame them for their enthusiasm? The experience of carrying and bringing another human being into the world is a freaking HUGE thing. And (apparently) if you've never done it, then you will never understand it. I'm just now learning the secret handshake, and I think in June there may even be some sort of hooded ceremony complete with a blood signed oath or something. People who don't normally talk to me are eager to know about very personal things, and they want to tell you their very personal things. And I indulge them, mostly out of respect, because what the hell do I know? I have a feeling that the "soccer mom" club is very similar.
2. I'm freaking going insane. I've been thinking about the relationships I have with people and how they are changing, and can see how easy it will be to let some go and hold some closer than ever. I've already semi-subconsciously been making double-columned mental lists that, on one side, detail hurtful past grievances that are not so healthy and that won't be healthy for my kid versus the other side, which lists the wonderful things that that person "adds to" my life. Then I obsess. What happens if I lose a really great friend just because I'll be so busy learning to be a mom? What happens if all I can think about is the color of the baby's bowel movements, and the breast milk that will (inevitably) be soaking through my shirts? What will I add to my friends' lives then? What happens if I'm too tired all of the time and I lose my creativity, which is already fading as I work at being more responsible? I'm already abandoning my rationality (clearly).
I probably have a lot more control over all of these things than I allow myself, and I know that the simple answer is wait and see. And well, just like all things in life, I suppose I'll have to do just that, though the list maker in me is cringing. Things just feel a little out of control and A LOT overwhelming.
Metaphors
I'm a riddle in nine syllables,
An elephant, a ponderous house,
A melon strolling on two tendrils.
O red fruit, ivory, fine timbers!
This loaf's big with its yeasty rising.
Money's new-minted in this fat purse.
I'm a means, a stage, a cow in calf.
I've eaten a bag of green apples,
Boarded the train there's no getting off.
Sylvia Plath
4 comments:
I think you will be fine, and your creativity and communication will remain in tact. Things will certainly change, just as they did when you went from being single to being married because priorities change. Friendships may become deeper and more meaningful. I think you will find that balance you need, and your family will benefit from it.
A woman's body is as different before and after her first baby as it is before and after puberty. Physically and mentally, there are parts of you that rewire, shift, and grow (!). Parts of your biology throughout your body and brain literally don't change from birth through adulthood until you get pregnant, have the baby, and lactate. Just as you might sooth one of your students going through a changing voice, budding breasts, or starting her period, it could be helpful to consider soothing yourself with the idea that the change itself is uncomfortable and uncertain but the end result is a beautiful individual with a lot of personal growth that will continue to emerge for years to come.
As for the club business, that works both ways. I'm so glad you're joining my club! I had so much joy rediscovering myself after I became a mom that I cheer my friends on with a special sentimentality when they're going through it, too. It's a little like watching your friend bite into a fantastic desert that's your usual treat.
I know this is overwhelmingly platitudinous. Sorry--I'm rarely like that. Sometimes I get freaked out by the social glue that children are--attaching me to people I never would otherwise encounter. John always reminds me to embrace it. Sometimes it's awkward, but most of the time it's rich and diverse. We wouldn't want to accidentally get stuck with the old rut of friends.
Thank you both for the encouraging words.
I do feel as though I am operating blindly sometimes.. a lot of times, especially since my life has been MINE for only a few years now. I think my fear is that I was just learning about who I am, and now that has to change. I have to learn about a new me.
For example, I'm just now learning how to talk to my son (God! He's my son!) without feeling cautious that he may or may not be here next week. Rich is really working hard at allowing this baby to be real to him too, especially since he isn't carrying him, and his only notion that the baby exists is through my exhaustion (grumbling) and growing tummy.
But I really like my life. I like my job and I love my friends. I long for stability in these places because they represent that which is (finally) secure in my life. I can't do this (have a baby) without that stability.
No worries, my sista; I'm not going anywhere...
Even when you're a huge, knocked-up cow and when you have a screaming baby attached to your boob.
Because that's love, bitches.
(To anyone who's NOT Ginger... Don't get mad. I'm being funny. She'll never be a cow. I might be a cow. And I'm not even pregnant. But that's another topic altogether. ..."That's another topic" -- get it?)
Bet you don't belive me when I say I've never taken drugs.
Okay, I'll shutup now.
(and... scene.)
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