After Tabetha was born, she went for about a 4 month period where she didn't really like to go longer than 15-20 minutes without nursing if she was awake. I remember on one occasion Chris was going to take her for a walk so I could have a break. I nursed her while he got ready, we quickly dressed her and strapped her into the carrier, and off they went.
They didn't make it out of the driveway before she started screaming, and it's not an especially long driveway.
When he brought her back in she latched on like she was starving.
So I got used to only having one identity - Mother of Tabetha. My whole life got subsumed into that one role because trying to remember that I was ever anyone else was too frustrating. I wasn't working, so I wasn't that me anymore. I didn't get to go out with friends without Tabetha, and with stitches still healing and an infant seemingly permanently attached to me, it seemed like that was it. I was an accessory to a beautiful baby - half the time I didn't even notice if someone greeted her and not me!
And then she got a little bit older, and I started leaving her for short periods of time. I'd run to Dairy Queen to bring back ice cream, or to the store to get something for dinner, or send her out for a short walk. And I realized that I'd forgotten how to be me.
I caught myself wondering how people would know I was Tabetha's mom when she wasn't with me? Not healthy.
I started making more of a deliberate effort to leave her with other people, to have conversations that weren't about her, and to try to remember what it was like being me.
I'm back at work now and it's easy there - I just slid back into being the me I've always been at work, and set mommy me aside. Actually it's almost jarring sometimes when someone asks about Tabetha - not because she isn't always my favourite topic, but because I haven't quite reconciled those two people yet. I expect that as she continues to grow more independent (something fervently wished for, if somewhat scary) it'll get easier.
It does give me a lot more sympathy for women who choose to stay at home and raise their children who then, for whatever reason, end up back in the workforce. If it was that hard after a year, how hard would it be after 5? 10? 20 even? I always knew I was going to go back to work, and take up that identity again.
Sorry if this is a bit of a ramble - Tabetha picked up a bug at daycare, which she then bounced back from - but not before passing it on to me, and apparently my 11 month old has a better immune system than I do....
1 comment:
Yes, who am I if I'm not your mother. Sometimes I still feel like thats the question. I'm not who I was before you, and the other stuff I do is what I do now that you don't need me so much. But first, last and always I am a mother. If I had to choose between you kids and anything else you win. If I couldn't work, or dance or play, or make love unless I gave up being a mother...I would never work, or dance, or play or make love again. Thank god that was never the deal lol.
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