A good friend of mine is having a baby in just about a month. She's excited, she's nervous, she's overwhelmed...she is all of those things that first time moms usually are. She is such a lovely person...a true sister of my heart. In the last few years we have become close and shared the depths of our hearts in difficult and exciting times. I am excited and honored to be part of this time in her life. Tuesday night I went to visit her because she had been feeling overwhelmed, and we spent the better part of two hours just sitting, talking, drinking hot chocolate and enjoying quiet moments together. AHhhh. One of the things she brought up was wondering what life would be like after baby. Would she feel like herself? Her statement to me was "This is not a bad thing, or a criticism in any way, but it seemed like it took you almost a year before you really seemed like yourself after you had Rusty." Yep, no offense taken. She hit the nail on the head.
That first year...it is unlike anything I have ever experienced in my life. I would have told you right at the start that I was back to myself quickly. Back to my same size, back to my old routines, back to the things I thought I knew. It wasn't until recently that I realized that I never really made it back to me...because that me no longer existed. There was a new me. The morphed me.
For awhile, that new me was all about survival. Those first few weeks of just trying to get the baby into a schedule, trying to sleep, trying to shower! Then I settled into a routine, but still...sort of more about the baby and less about momma. I didn't do the things I enjoyed as much any more. This was good, because Rusty was much more important than all of those things and bonding with him was one of the best gifts of my life, but those things were still there, waiting.
Reading. I love to read. I love to snuggle up in my bed with a good book and turn the pages, and turn them, and turn them. My eyes eat up the story and my brain is refreshed after a good read. I love going to the library and seeing the possibilities lined up before me on the shelves, a great story just fingertips away. I love rereading the classics as much as I love randomly walking down the aisles and picking up a book that just happens to catch my eye and taking it home.
Exercise. I love exercise. I wouldn't have always said that, but now I know myself. I know that it rejuvenates me. It brings me peace. It makes me stronger. It relaxes me. I love the dark quietness of a yoga room on a Wednesday night, surrounded by the others working to get stronger, breathing deeply in and out. We stretch our bodies, we strengthen our muscles, we go home feeling light and loose. Running refreshes my soul. It's something I haven't been able to do for a long time due to knee injuries, but I sit here, contemplating it, wondering...could I do it again? I long to eat up the forest path with my favorite music pounding in my ears. I wish that I could feel that crisp air whooshing in and out of my lungs as I beat out the miles beneath my feet. I pray that I can return to it.
Painting my nails and all things girly. I love to have bright red nails. There is something about them that makes me feel good, put together, like life is in control. If my nails are done, I look like I care about myself. They make me feel pretty. They remind me that I took at least the amount of time to myself to put on a coat AND let it dry. I love doing my makeup, straightening my hair, getting dressed up in something besides my uniform of jeans and a sweater or t-shirt. Getting all dressed up and heading downtown Vancouver is one of my favorite things to do. When I do, I remember that I have things that I love besides just the wonder of being a mom. I like to sit and listen to good music. I love to lose myself in a play. I enjoy sitting and sipping at a cup of coffee while chatting with a good friend, or, *gasp*...my husband! One of my favorite things is walking along the seawall, breathing in that ocean air, taking my time and watching all of the interesting people around me.
Teaching. I know that staying home as a mom is working...it is perhaps the most important, most wonderful job I have ever done, yet there is something about working as a professional teacher that brings me joy as well. I love marking the assignment of a student, seeing how he has grown, how what I am teaching him is sinking in, how I have an opportunity to mold even a small part of his mind. I love the conversations that I have with students...those conversations that might have nothing to do with our assignment, yet everything to do with life and what they are going to do with it. I love it when I see them start to take those tentative steps toward becoming the amazing person that they are going to become. Sometimes I can just see shades of their future in the moments at hand...and it is amazing. I enjoy challenging my mind to come up with new ways of representing the material, new forms of assessment, a unique approach to engaging their minds. I love teaching. To me it's not simply a job, it really is a part of who I am.
Lounging. There is a part of me that truly is a couch potato. I want to sit on the couch and watch a good show or take in a good movie. I want to ignore the dishes and the laundry and the dirty floors and just chill. I love just laughing at the absurdity that is The Bachelor, or traveling around the world with the members of The Amazing Race. I enjoy losing myself in the story of Grey's Anatomy. I really like crying during a sappy, romantic movie. I love that moment when I am snuggled up under a blanket next to my hubby with his arm wrapped snugly around me while I sniffle away at the love blossoming on screen. I am a lounge lizard. A cuddly flannel pajamas, soft fleece blanket, fresh bowl of popcorn and mug of hot chocolate kind of girl!
It's an interesting concept, this idea of coming back to myself. What does it mean, exactly? For me, it means that while I put off the lounge lizarding until the dishes are loaded in the dishwasher, that load of laundry is at least started in the washing machine and I have managed to sweep under the high chair-again-I at least do lounge. We put Rusty to bed, we snuggle up on the couch and we watch perhaps one of our shows. Thank heavens for the PVR!
It means that tonight I searched the Internet to see if there was a yoga class starting up through our community center. One that perhaps starts at night after Rusty has gone to bed, so I still have that time with him, but I also still have that solitude, that workout, those moments of peace.
It means that I sometimes take a Saturday afternoon or morning when Kevin is home to take a really long, hot shower. To straighten my hair, paint my nails-and hope they will last a week at least!, and really get dressed nice...even if I'm only going to the grocery store.
It means that I go to the library and pick out a good book. I might not read it in a few days as I once would have, but I take the moments that I get to read it. It might be for half an hour before bed. It might be while I brush my teeth! It could be while I eat breakfast or maybe while Rusty is napping or during my lunch hour when I am working. But I read...I eat up the words voraciously and I get lost in the other world that is in my hands.
It means that I take advantage of the wonderful people that offer to babysit-mainly my amazing in-laws-and go for dates with my husband or go out with my girlfriends. We go out to eat and sit and talk and share a tasty mountain of chocolate and ice cream and gooey whipped cream. We have a coffee and chat about our lives. We watch a movie-in the theatres!-and remember just how good movie theatre popcorn really is.
For me, getting back to me is discovering how to be the new me-the one that keeps up with the house because I have to and does the dishes before I watch TV because if I don't there will only be more tomorrow-while also doing the things that I love. It is making lists of things that have to be done before doing the things that want to be done. It means sometimes throwing the list out the window when I find that my husband is in a great mood and wants to sit and talk and tell me about his day, and I don't worry about the fact that there are crumbs on the floor where that cookie was dropped this afternoon. It means sometimes forgetting about painting those nails bright red because my little munchkin has just come up to me and said, "Mama...BOOK!" and that is so much more precious and special than having fire engine red nails this week...I would rather read about a fire engine and hear my little monkey go "Wooo wooo!"
Getting back to me means learning how to balance these things...being a mom, being a wife, being a friend, sister, daughter, and teacher.
It's a balance that I'm slowly learning, but when I manage to do it, when I get that little moment of ahhhhh mixed in with the snuggles and the honey I love yous it all just makes me sing. It means that life is sweet, it means that I am me...and it's an even better me than ever before.
I wonder if anyone would say the same thing about me, with regards to how long it took me to 'return to myself' after RJ's birth. I too would have said I didn't really change. I mean, yes, things changed, priorities, etc. But I still totally feel like myself...and have ever since RJ was born.
ReplyDeleteI actually found that most of my child-free friends changed more than I did. I guess they would say the same about me.
Wow Stacy, your words really spoke to me. I find myself in the same situations, trying to find the "new" me with 3 kids. I enjoy alot of the same things but they come few and far between. Thanks for sharing your life and thoughts with all of us. You are an amazing women and an even more amazing mother.
ReplyDeleteGod Bless you
Emily Wagner-Miller