Never before have I experienced my own worth more than when I become a mother. From day one of pregnancy, my body created this tiny human being that now walks outside of my body. If I didn't exist, she wouldn't either. My existence was also integral to her little life for her first few months. Because I decided to breastfeed (but, let's be honest, even if I hadn't), I kept my little one alive. Her very breath depended on my reassuring presence. I was straight up VIP.
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Photo credit: Mallory Parkington Photography |
After giving birth to my first daughter, I was out and about on my own (at Target, obviously) and I had a morbid thought:
Well, officially nothing can happen to me now because I am just too important. Some of this was the hormones talking (never before had they been so. very. opinionated.) but some of it was my new reality. I had graduated from just being loved (which is an amazing privilege given to me by my parents, my husband and my friends) to being absolutely and utterly needed.
Oh my word, it was overwhelming. I was needed. Really needed. I was the one who knew what to do when she cried, how to get her to sleep and when to feed her. As much as my husband was so wonderful during those early days and weeks, it still felt like a one-woman-show much of the time.
Talk about feeling so valuable, so necessary! I was bigger than big. My purpose was abundantly clear and my feeling of self-worth skyrocketed. I was MOM. I transitioned from being a woman, a wife, a friend (and whatever else) to this superhuman, life-giving, diaper-changing sleepless NINJA. Those early weeks and months when you don't know which way is up? Yes, I was seriously, a freaking ninja.
Yet something else was happening to me at the same time. As I was becoming this larger-than-life mother, my sense of my own unique personhood shrank. Things I did before I was a mom fell to the wayside. Some of this was necessary. You can't teach a yoga class with a 3-day-old baby, for example. I wasn't going to pop on over to my blog in the middle of breastfeeding my newborn to hammer out an entry. I couldn't "be there" for my friends like I had been before (few will go to the lady with a brand new baby for emotional support).
All of this shrinkage (gosh, such a weird word to use but I'm committing) was 100% normal and healthy for a short time period. The newborn haze is exactly when this NEEDS to happen because a) you need to figure out what the @#*% you're doing and b) you need to take a respite from who you were before to figure our who you're going to be.
Once the dust settles and the world makes a little more sense again (and this may take anywhere from 3 weeks to 18 years...), the two parts of you can coexist once again. Or at least start to.
Your needs as a person will begin to be met again. Hell, you'll even be able to recognize what those needs actually ARE again.
In addition to your needs, your wants and desires will be once again recognizable. Thank goodness! Not that catering to the wants and desires of tiny humans isn't amazing and life-giving but they are not the only wants and desires that are important. There is a season where you come secondary to the wee one(s) you create but that season is NOT all the time, in my humble opinion.
Once you step out of the haze that IS that season of life (and a truly blessed season, indeed), it is time to work on joining your identities. Rather than leading a dual life (woman by day, ninja mom by night), I believe that we don't need alter egos. That all that we are can coexist. Actually, I believe that if you go after what you want, have your own needs and even desires met, then you'll be an even better mom than ever.
But this takes time, I think. The season of tiny babies -- of being "in the weeds" with the wee ones -- is an intense one. Incredible? Yes. Intense? You betcha.
I don't know exactly when I came out of that season but, when I did, it felt like I was breathing new air. I was so "in" my early motherhood that I lost my tight grip on my personhood. Myself as a mother eclipsed myself as a person rather than just having the two merge.
I think this is normal and even, perhaps, what is "supposed to happen". We have to become larger-than-life mothers in the early stages of the game and, because it is such an immense privilege to take on that role, other things have to take a backseat (like washing my hair, for example).
But we also have to learn how to meld that amazing new identity we have as mothers with the rest of ourselves, or else we risk losing those parts. Parts of us that our children would be privileged to know! The parts of us our friends know, our spouses know and even our employers. The parts of ourselves we may be missing immensely, even though we might not realize it in the newborn haze.
I am beyond grateful to be a mother. It is a gift and a truly the most meaningful role I might play here on this earth. It's certainly the role that has brought me the most joy and I'm excited for all joy it will continue to bring me.