My article for the May 2012 "motherhood" issue of Her Magazine... The Baby Made Me Do It: Finding Freedom in Motherhood
I am effectively a prisoner in my house after 6:30 p.m. I have a four-month-old baby who lays
his little self down in my arms each night and closes his eyes at exactly 6:30
p.m. There are no more spontaneous
trips out to see a band or late-night runs to the grocery store. My husband works late, so it’s just me
and my sleeping baby boy in the house most nights. The little man and I have found a rhythm, and as the fog of
new motherhood has lifted, I have discovered something I never could have
anticipated. I found my freedom.
I always figured becoming a mother would be a horror show. Everything would come to a screeching
halt, and I would live out my days a slave to the needs of my child. I would be fat and frustrated,
resentful of my husband and forever saddened by the loss of a life that could
have been. It is true that I
cannot leave the house without paying another adult to sit in my place, but on
all other fronts, my experience of becoming a mother has been the opposite of
what I expected.
I have lost every ounce of apathetic procrastination that I
had in me. I have never been so
driven and interested in revitalizing my own life. I am filled with an urgent desire to step out of my comfort
zone and live bigger, to stop postponing my goals and move with purpose towards
the woman I want to be – physically, professionally, and personally.
As I watch my son “age” through these first few months of
life, I am more deeply aware of my own youth and the value I should be placing
on it. I’m aware of the passage of
time in a whole new way. I will
not be a young woman forever, just as he will not be a baby for long. We are going to age together, and,
thanks to him, I understand in a whole new way the value of my days on this
planet.
Losing the weight tomorrow
isn’t good enough any more. Calling
up my new friend to come over for a bottle of wine cannot wait another
week. Not speaking my mind in my
writing isn’t going to cut it. And
putting off the tattoo that I’ve been dreaming of for over a decade is
unacceptable. The time is
now. So often these things get
shelved for fear of failure and judgment… fear of breaking free of the good
opinion of others.
I am no longer primarily a daughter and a girlfriend. I am a mother and a wife. It’s my show now. I never expected those grown-up labels
to carry such power, but, happily, they do. After turning 35 and giving birth, I think I can officially
claim my adulthood.
I want my motherhood and my life to be openly, gleefully
messy. I want my son to understand
that I will not be trying to squeeze him into a predetermined box. I am not interested in defining who he
is. I hope he will be kind,
compassionate, joyful, and excited about whatever he decides to pursue, but I
can only set the best example I know how and watch as he becomes his own man.
He is so small and vulnerable, hilarious and full of
life. He challenges me every day
to crack my heart open just a little bit wider, to be calmer and to love living
a little bit more. I may be
chained to the house more often, but with my physical loss of freedom has come
a powerful psychological freedom.
I may not be able to jet out to try a new yoga class at a moment’s
notice anymore, but I am challenged to discover parts of myself I never even
knew were missing. Through my
exhaustion after 4 a.m. feedings and endless hours of rocking and singing, I
feel younger than ever. I have a
fire to get out into the world and take advantage of this body and mind while
they are still in their prime.
I’m sure my little man has much more to teach me over the
years, and I have a thing or two to share with him. In the meantime, my job is to make sure he has a mom who is
healthy and loving, who knows who she is and is always open to new adventures. With his wide eyes smiling at me every
morning, I don’t think it will be too hard to stay motivated. I have to keep up. Game on.
