Sifting

One of my best friends became a mother this week. She used to be one of "our teens" when we were in youth ministry. Her childhood home is just a few blocks from ours and she often came over after school to hang out with me. We'd listen to Jack Johnson (hello 2005!) and play cards for hours. We weren't an obvious pair. She was quiet and wore "boy clothes" in those years and I had highlights and was as chatty as ever. But our ying/yang vibe always worked and I find that many of my closest friends are similar in temperament to my dear Tim.
She hasn't been one of "our kids" in a long time, pretty seamlessly transitioning into one of my peers. We still love to play cards though it's much harder since I brought kids into the mix 8 years ago. I was at her wedding and helped throw her baby shower. And I had the honor of being one of her darling son's first visitors. And as I was driving to the hospital to meet him, I was taken back to my own post-partum experiences. Reflecting on how I've been influenced by the experiences of motherhood and then specifically by the personhood of each of my daughters, I wrote this:

Motherhood obliterates you
Then stitches you back together
You're still you, technically
But everything is in a slightly different place

This little creature has destroyed you
and made you infinitely better
You've never been so vulnerable,
this extension of you out in this
big, scary world.

How can you control it all,
keep them safe, help them grow?
You've never been so big, so bold
Fierce to the death, you speak
when you would have stayed silent
Fight when you would have conformed

On behalf of this bewitching creature
you wouldn't hesitate to go to war
So small, so mighty, these few pounds
of dependent humanity
change every cell in your body.

In love, entranced, you orbit
around them, every sigh, every sneeze
is breath-taking.
Even their shit is cute.
Babies turn hard asses to mush
and pushovers into warriors.

These magical creatures are mesmerizing
They keep you up, soak you in vomit
Those first few months take you to your knees
They shatter you, they heal you,
They take you to the brink of insanity.

Yet in that fog, there is pure,
unadulterated bliss
Every time you breathe in
that spicy scalp or feel their
tiny chest rise and fall against yours
Those tiny toes, their skin that folds
Their sweet, persistent suckle.

The most enchanting drug in the world?
Newborns.

I've been in a funk lately. I don't know if it's the weather (it's actually SUNNY), my body (had some headaches), or the massive amounts of change to my support system all happening at the same time. All in all, I'm not feeling witty. I'm trying to stay in touch with how I feel and give myself permission to be in a funk, but it's hard to sit in those bad moods and not just distract myself in hopes that when I get back to my head, it'll be clear. That's always a temporary fix. Although I will say, I've purchased some seriously cute antiques in an attempt to distract myself.
I woke up this morning EXHAUSTED. There were no logical reasons for this. I got 8 straight hours of sleep (if I read myself writing this a few months ago, I would have screamed in outrage at my whining). Nevertheless, I was a zombie. I had a headache for the third straight day in a row. Both my kids were awake with needs seeking my full attention. I found myself barely moving around in Penny's room, getting the kids downstairs to breakfast well past our normal time. As I fumbled around in the kitchen, spilling Kix all over the counter with Penny screeching and pulling on my pants leg, I thought, man, wouldn't it be nice if I could just drink my coffee alone? I'd just love to be getting ready for work and have my concerns be all about getting myself ready for the day in perfect silence.
Then I started thinking about what life will look like in a few years (they won't need me as much), and a few more (they may not like me) and a few more (they will be gone). It's going to be a long time before I can start my day and only think about myself. And I think when that day finally comes, it's going to make me sad.
So there's that. I usually hate it when women tell other women to enjoy every moment when they have young children because "it just goes by so fast." It feels minimizing and it always makes tired women feel like shit. You're not doing something wrong if you're exhausted. And it really is difficult to have little people in your space all the time. I literally can't take a step in my kitchen without Penny trying to pull up on my leg. And if I step out of the room for a SECOND, even explaining that I'll be right back, somehow Macy is right behind me. In the bathroom, in the garage, in my room. After 6 years, it still baffles me. There's lots of whining, teething, meals...it's hard work.
But the truth is, there's good stuff and bad stuff about every phase of life, every version of life you're living. Whether you're single, married, with kids, without kids, in school, working...it's all hard and it's all good. And this, my friends, is my problem. There's no one way to live your life and find total fulfillment and happiness. We get glimpses. And it's our job to savor those moments, no matter how often they come. As a perfectionist, I want a map. I want a plan. I want rules. I want control. I want predictable. Ironically, I don't even think I'd like that either! Somehow I both love and hate surprises. You know what I think it is, I only want changes that I initiate. Perfectionism is so impractical!