This is going to be one of those truth-y posts. Lots of writing, not a lot of pictures, so cut out now if you have no interest in a rambling rant of self-discovery.
This decision has been 20 months in the making, spurred on by a week straight of listening to Mazzy Star, Sufjan Stevens, Ryan Adams, Sarah McLachlan, and Tristan Prettyman (folks this is the kind of music line-up that will systematically reduce a person to emotional rubble then slowly inspire their rebuilding... don't engage in this lightly (or without wine), it is a doozy).
So here is what I've learned about myself in the last week.
I am a "grower". Other names I've used to describe this part of me have been "discontented", "restless", "my artist-y streak", and my favorite to date (that was actually assigned to me), one with the "ramblin' fever". It usually manifests in sort of panicky searches for new jobs, more school, "what should I do next?" moments that last a few weeks and then go away. But recently, it was just hanging out. And in the last month, it had become suffocating. I felt an itch. Something was missing and something wasn't right and something needed to change, I needed to change. This is a bad feeling to have when you are a mom and a wife, because you feel selfish and stupid knowing you have a wonderful life but that you still aren't 'perfectly' (ha!) happy.
I sunk into moody music, reconnected with people I've known throughout my life, sought out meaningful conversations and really thought about this part of me, this need to change, this feeling of restlessness. And things started to slowly fall into place. It wasn't "change" that made me happy... moving/switching jobs/transitions.... it was the growth that was occurring during those times. Story of my life: when things got comfortable, it was time to move on. Hence the litany of 3-month long jobs, of cross-country moves, of studying everything from Russian language to painting to racial disparities to biostatistics. And what a gift to have been able to do those things during my twenties. To have had the support of my family to fearlessly (sometimes mistakenly) jump in and out of things / situations / places / relationships / experiences-- all in the name of developing who I was. How spoiled and privileged was I that this was my life? Very. What happened though, was this became so ingrained in me: I was a tenacious "do-er", I learned and loved and adventured with ferocity, but when the challenge was overcome, my work there was done. Enter: being a mom and a wife. Add: me not having figured out all of this about changing vs. growing business. Conclusion: oh my god did I flounder for a while there. But then it all came together.
LIGHT BULB (said in Gru's voice). Fact #1: I'm a grower, not a changer. Fact #2: Stagnation is my enemy. And looking at the last year, of course I felt like I was about to lose my mind. We are in a place that we know we don't want to be in and that we won't be staying in, all of my energy for so long was going into Asher's wellness and coordinating his care, I was working (albeit a job I loved) during Asher's naps, after he went to bed, and weekends to get in 40 hours a week, and we have been operating without the network of friends & family we are used to being surrounded by. So for starters, I haven't had or made the time for me. I dove head first into being a mom and in my mind, the right way to be a mom was to do it 100%, with all of your being. If it meant sacrificing something for Asher, I did it without thinking twice. And you should absolutely love your children and give them your whole heart, but balance, oh man, balance... it is so important. And unlike so many (lucky) women I know, being a mom hasn't been super intuitive and natural. I know I love my baby and I don't need to be mindful about how to be in love with my son, but all those other pieces (is it normal for him to not poop for a week? why isn't he eating bananas today when he loved them yesterday? Is it really not okay for him to watch TV? Etc) those things are difficult and I over think them and I am hard on myself when I make the 'wrong' move. I do literature reviews before making almost any big decision. Chill the (insert a colorful word) out? Yes. Yes I should. A little on some sort of spectrum are we? Yes. Yes I probably am. Which is why, for me, being a stay at home mom (SAHM) has been hard (clarification: being a SAHM for every mom is hard, and if she says differently, she is lying her pants off). And I didn't want it to be, I wanted to be the kind of mom my mom was when I was young and she was home with Mal and I. Effortless. She was amazing and selfless and loving and warm. And so, with that model in mind, I had arrived at the conclusion that the best kind of mom I could be was the one who was at home and went to playdates and was part of a moms group (just wait for the entire post that I will write someday about how moms groups are their own special brand of the League of Villains, put on this earth to torment and demoralize first time moms...). And I have beat myself up for almost two years, wondering why I wasn't reveling in this incredible honor of spending every day with Asher and watching him grow up into the amazing tiny human that he is. Why, despite how much I love him with all my heart and know that our time together is a gift, have I felt like I am failing?
The first answer was: I should not be trying to work full-time remotely while being a stay at home mom. (If you are thinking, no kidding genius, jeez you are such an idiot... you are correct). I decided I would get rid of work so I could focus even more on being a mom, because surely then, with no distractions, I would finally embrace it and be amazing at it. So I talked to Iowa City Hospice and let them know my time with them would be coming to a close. Then I presented at my last board meeting and the walls came tumbling down. I got off that call and felt like part of me had died. A part I liked, the part that did something really, really well. Begin: week of despair. I felt every single emotion. I felt guilty and like an egomaniac that I placed so much value on work and getting feedback from people that I was doing a good job. I felt sad that I was going to be leaving hospice. I felt confused about what to do next. And I felt panicked about truly embracing stay at home momness. Which led to more guilt and sadness. But by facing all of this suffering (yes suffering), rather ungracefully most of the time, instead of trying to bury it, I finally saw the light. I am not meant to be a stay at home mom. And man, that is a hard thing to stomach when A) it is what you've been doing for almost two years and B) it's what you've decided is best for your child.
While randomly voicing my thoughts about going back to work to an old friend, she said something that made me stop in my tracks. She empathized with me greatly, having tried being a full-time SAHM herself before realizing she needed to go back to work, and what she said was, "I am such a better mom when I am working." Really, someone could have punched in the face and it would have had the same effect. All of a sudden, that just made sense. I had been thinking in my own little pea brain head all this time that I would be less of a mom, a worse mom, if I changed things up and went back to work. Not because working moms are bad moms (that is not what I'm saying), but because I'd established the type of mom I was "supposed to be" for Asher I felt that by retreating from his daily life I would be less of that person than I'd been. But suddenly it became easier to believe: I could be a good mom, even the kind of mom I want to be, while working outside of the home. Of course I could. So I'm going to honor the part of me that needs growth. That needs to learn. I'm going to go back to work, maybe in healthcare? Maybe not. It might be time to uproot professionally and try something new. Anyone know of any 'save the sea turtle' initiatives in the twin cities?
Long story short, I've learned that there is not a right or wrong way to be a mom. Actually, I guess that's not really what I think. 'Right' is what works for you and your family, 'wrong' is what you do because you think it is what you should do. A better statement would be, there is no one way to be a mom. It took me almost two years to figure out what kind of mom I need to be, or at least to figure out what kind of mom I'm not supposed to be. And even then, momness is so dynamic and ever-changing, who knows what will end up happening. But I do know I'm thankful. I'm thankful for the two years I've had at home with Asher. I'm thankful that I have the support from my incredible husband to belly flop my way around momhood trying to find the balance. I'm thankful that someday soon we will be in Minnesota, all of a sudden plopped right back into a network of friends and family who will help us parent (it takes a village, a big ass village, to raise a child). More than anything, I am thankful for my fiesty, beautiful, curious, clever, courageous son who will bloom wherever he is and with whomever is hanging out with him during the day. He is the very best.
Mom, out.
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