Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Clever Women BECOME Clever Mommies

I attended a party last weekend and there were several people I didn’t know. I decided to linger near the women to see if there was any good content for me to ponder and I hit the jackpot. This post should be a crashing bore for you guys- but it you are a Clever Guy who is married and have any intention of having children- pull up a seat. This is something you should read.

So, there were two women- one had a 4 month old (her first- let’s call her Kate) and one had a 2 year old (her only- let’s call her Nancy).

I overhear before I see-

“I just … I want to feel like me again.” Kate’s voice broke, causing me to look over. She was plucking her top from her chest- showing Nancy what was obviously spit-up from the baby. She might have been 15 pounds overweight- a pleasant face, which was likely just as pretty now as ever. Her hair needed some attention, but she was well dressed (minus the puke). “I still have 10 pounds on me. I vowed this would NOT be me, and here I am. Covered in puke, I’m pretty sure I smell- I don’t know when I showered last …” And then she started to cry. I was embarrassed for eavesdropping so I moved away quickly.

I took my glass of wine and wandered to the fire outside- it was cold but looked so very inviting. I watched through the window after I settled myself on the bench with a blanket. Nancy was saying nothing, just holding her friend’s hand while she wept. My gosh, my heart clenched tightly. As I watched her touch her hair in disgust and try to wipe the baby puke off her black shirt, Kate's words resonated and I came to some conclusions.

As women, we embark upon a journey- an odyssey, really- and it begins when we are aware we are women. Now, I personally have always been aware- because I thought you got to decide whether you wanted to be a boy or a girl and I decided early I was going to be a girl because they get to wear high heels. Now, in that decision, I had to figure out what being a girl meant other than high heels (of course, no aspect of which was more exciting or important).

We are all faced with learning about ourselves through the opinions of others. If we repeatedly are told we are funny - it's what we believe. On this voyage of self-discovery, an amalgam is formed. We are an alloy of what we come to determine are self-defining characteristics- that which we believe and that which we learn from others about ourselves.

An identity is created and we become comfortable (if we are lucky) and confident (as far as you know). We KNOW ourselves (to some degree). We meet someone who we are compatible with and we fall in love. This alters our identity a bit- in that now we are a couple, adjustments are made- we fine-tune and often get married.

Our married selves are different still- maybe we are less selfish now that we have someone else to help, support, guide, comfort and with whom to walk. We still are comfortable, maybe even happier, with this new less self-centered articulation of who we are.

Until the day the plus sign shows up. There might be unmitigated joy as you’ve been trying to get pregnant- being a mother such a huge and unsatisfied part of WHO you want to be. There might be terror at the thought you might fail as a mother- fear you might be as bad a mother as your own- excitement, joy, nervousness- the list literally reads like a phonebook of adjectives.

Your body adjusts slowly- you grow and change and while no one enjoys gaining weight- it’s for the baby (and frankly who wouldn’t want to eat sheet cake every day) and it’s critical- so we put our insecurities aside and if we’ve married a man who is So Very Clever- he’s careful not to joke, prod or jab at our blossoming figures or to leer at our baby boobies (all of the time).

Either way- the range of emotions a woman experiences on a daily basis during her pregnancy is whiplash inducing for those around her- imagine how troubling it is for her. Rarely as an adult are we confronted with an experience upon which we have nothing to draw to help us cope. Through our lives we learn lessons that prepare us for life occurrences- but pregnancy truly is unique. Never at another time in your life do you have a living being growing inside your body- one for whom you will be responsible the rest of your days.

Kate was now wiping her tears- trying to convince Nancy she was fine. I could see her apologizing and laughing at herself, but there was no humor or mirth in her face. I wanted to hug her- and I am NOT a hugger. I wanted to explain something important to her.

For nine months women are nesting- they are padding a little cocoon, if you will accept an absolutely hackneyed metaphor. They take in there everything they know- all they have learned about being a woman, what they've observed of a mother and what they know of themselves, and they wait. They do not emerge slowly and gracefully, however. It’s more like being shot out of a cannon- as a human being passes through hips that don’t quite seem wide enough, or being split hip to hip and having the child removed. Either way- it’s traumatic (painful is too mild a word and lacks context here).

Whoa- or woe- it depends- and then it is on like the break of dawn. No rest, no pausing in the action. So much to learn, to do, to see, to share, to marvel at and revel in, to want to run screaming from. When you do have down time- which is never- you often find yourself in tears. Often from exhaustion, often caused by fear and most often because you have no idea who you are anymore.

Where is that fun and funny woman who people used to stop on the street just to tell her she was beautiful? Why can’t I stop crying? Why can’t I make it out of the house without vomit in my hair? How can I NOT have time to take a shower or urinate? Where did all these dishes come from? Who is supposed to do the laundry? Oh, me. Why am I so freaking tired? Where did the bags under my eyes come from? Why am I still fat? The baby is out, right? By the way, shouldn’t the baby have weight 25 pounds? Six? What about the rest of this weight? Exercise? Who has the time or energy or interest? What is that smell? It’s like rotten milk- oh my GOSH, it is rotten milk! Breast milk- gross. I’m nothing but a lactation station- a leaking, smelly, bleeding and sore feeding trough. I don’t want to wear maternity clothes anymore- but none of my clothes fit and, frankly, why didn’t anyone tell me I used to dress like a hooker? Who wears clothes like these- and in this size? What are these- doll clothes? Get rid of them.

Kate stood up and showed Nancy she was still in her stretchy waist jeans- fashionable Seven jeans but maternity nonetheless, and I was surprised to see Nancy stand up and show her that she was, too. Nancy shrugged and a dark cloud settled over her as well. Nancy indicated toward her breasts, they both had a good laugh and Kate swiped her tears again.

I could see them both wanting to crawl back into that cocoon- but you can’t. You can never go back- most notably because there is nothing in there. What Kate doesn’t realize is she will never be that woman again. The woman she was before she had children has transformed not been left behind. What she isn’t recognizing or appreciating (yet) is the woman she has BECOME. When she was shot out of the cannon- she became a MOTHER. So different than being a woman- so much more than a woman.

Mothers are special and lovely women (unless they have a personality disorder). They have BECOME part of an elite sorority (pardon the use of a label here- I do so loosely). Mothers help shape the next generation in a way no one else can- their job is critical and unique- special and all-important.

What Kate is cracking under is the pressure of change- she has gone into the fire and come out refined- she just doesn’t know it yet. She wants her boobs back, her body back, her clothes to be clean, to be well put-together, to not be late all of the time, to get a decent night’s rest, to be able to stop after work for a drink with friends or a last minute dinner date with her husband.

It’s my hope for Kate she realizes making the holiday party without puke on her, being the block captain (because she is the most organized and efficient), maintaining the perfect size four or having a killer rack is simply not that important on the scale of important. The love she feels for her daughter, Sophie, will shape Sophie’s life- her love- her experiences.

To all the Kates, it’s natural to desire to connect with who you were- and she is still in there- but you will never be a more lovely and true version of who you are than you are right now. The woman and mother you will continue to become is the woman after which your daughter will model her own life, aspire to be and only hope to emulate perfectly. Love your children well- love yourself well.

Now- am I saying it’s OK to carry an extra 40 pounds a year after your child is born? No. Why? It’s not healthy for you or your marriage. It’s not fair to your spouse to hide behind motherhood- you are still a woman and a wife and you should take pride in those aspects as well. Summon some energy- try something new if the gym leaves you cold- or you can’t fathom getting on the treadmill. Try hot yoga. I’ll tell you why tomorrow.

Too sappy? Just asking Clever Husbands to be patient- it is no easier for a new mother to find her way than it is for you to get to know the new and improved version of her. She may be all sharp edges and demands now- but wait until she hits her stride. She is going to be one Clever Mommy.

OK- huge football week this week. I want to talk a little more about the Mike Leach thing. Sorry to the TCU fans- but don’t worry, the Longhorns are going to bring it on Thursday. What a game that will be. I need to figure out what to cook that night. Meatball subs? Yes, yes and yes. Yum.

2 comments:

  1. True words! I clearly remember 16 years ago when I had my first child just trying to hang on until things 'got back to normal'. I really struggled with it. After a couple of months of tears and anguish I finally realized this was the new 'normal'....and slowly I grew into it and learned to embrace it. Was definitely not a graceful period in my life...but definitely one I wouldn't trade.

    Thanks for sharing!
    ~Kate

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  2. Kate-
    Excellent observation- this is the new normal. I guess I could have cut four pages out of the post and said that. Haha. I appear to have been emotionally tied to the cocoon reference. Not much of an expository writer- I am working hard on the art of extending a metaphor. Not my best effort- haha.
    I swear- have you ever been less Clever than the first year? Geez. Look at you now? Time to be the Clever Mommy of a teenage, the Big H calls it revenge- time will tell.
    Thank so much for reading!
    x
    CG

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