I received a book for Christmas that had been on my wish list (thanks to Pinterest) and I simply posted "if you are a mom please read this" in my last post.
I have been laughing hysterically through the first few chapters, feeling validated on so many of my feelings from choosing to get an epidural and straying from my perfect birth plan to those feelings of guilt I have when I think to myself: "wouldn't formula just be easier?"
One line that struck me in the midst of my laughter is this one, in regards to the author's husband: "But his life hasn't changed like mine has..."
Let me start by saying this: I am blessed beyond belief to have a partner in my husband and father of our son who not only loves me but loves C with every ounce of his being. Papa C is an "all in" papa- changing diapers, giving bottles when needed, doing laundry, cleaning baby spit up, helping out around the house, etc., etc. He's great. So my commentary on the above quote is not at all a criticism of my husband.
To continue: I think Amy Wilson's observation is spot on.
I feel that for women, the changes of parenthood go far deeper than the obvious- going from a party of 2 to a party of 3(+), sleeplessness, your time and your pocket book no longer being your own. The list goes on. And for women, that list goes deeper.
Chris has never had to struggle with the question of whether or not to return to work. This was simply not a question that entered his mind nor is it one that others asked him throughout our entire pregnancy. His body never endured a humongous change, nor was his ability to continue running ever hampered by such a massive change (or sheer exhaustion). His very identity hasn't changed in the way mine has (or maybe it has- I've never asked!). Let me put it this way- he's never expressed to me that he feels his identity has changed.
I, on the other hand, feel a bit like I am enduring an identity crisis. I am Colin's mom. I am also a working mom, a higher education professional, a professor, a volunteer. While I identify readily which each of those things, I feel incredibly guilty when any of the latter four take precedence over my time with C. Not to mention that I don't even identify as a runner any more (and lest we forget that is where this entire blog started).
When I do have moments in which I think I should (if given the opportunity) give up work entirely in order to focus solely on being C's mom, then I grow anxious that I will never identify as anyone other than his mom, that once he is old enough to start his own little career of pre-school and beyond, that I won't have any way to fill my time or identify as anything other than a mother. And that terrifies me.
I feel that as a woman, I will struggle either way. As a working mom, I feel guilty dropping my baby off at daycare each day, leaving him in the hands of others to "raise" for the day. On the flip side, when I think about life as a SAHM, I feel I will only be seen as a woman who can't handle it and is taking the "easy" way out. (**Please note, that latter feeling is not how I personally feel about SAHMs. It is simply how I perceive the way SAHMs themselves are perceived by society. I for one think that being a SAHM can be just as challenging as balancing work and home life).
This struggle is why I think Amy Wilson is spot on. I just don't feel that fathers experience the kind of identity struggles that mothers do when babies enter their worlds.
And yet as I sit hear tonight with my sweet boy snoozing away in his crib, I think to myself:
Perhaps I am overreacting.
Perhaps my hormones are still raging 9 months postpartum.
Perhaps I just need to be grateful for the blessing that is baby C and move forward with much less critical analysis of what it all "means."
Perhaps.
And the more I think the more I realize I do know this: "If nothing ever changed, there would be no butterflies." (Words of wisdom shared at the wedding of a friend this Spring). With change comes great anxiety (for me) and yet without it, I would miss out on so much beauty. Despite my identity crisis, there is an abundance of beauty in the addition of this sweet blessing in our life.
So I will end this post with a little less analysis and little more gratitude- gratitude for all of the butterflies in my life and those yet to come, even amidst the difficulties that come before the beauty arrives.
Thank you for indulging me.
12.31.2012
12.29.2012
what would Jesus say?
I love Shane Claiborne. The Simple Way reminds me of the first church, the church in the Book of Acts, the church that I feel we are long separated from in this day and age.
I subscribed to his Facebook page a few months ago, after my husband had the privilege of hearing him speak at a youth conference this summer. Just yesterday, Shane posted an article he had written for the Huffington Post entitled What Would Jesus Say to the NRA?
What would he say? Shane captures it so well, I won't attempt to re-write the article from my own perspective; I'll let you read it and draw your own conclusions.
What I want to write here is this: What do the words of Jesus mean to us today? When we use his words to justify an action or belief, are we sure we are reflecting the true, authentic, servant leader of Jesus?
I feel like the authentic compassion and love of Jesus is often missing when we sling words at one another, deny basic rights (rights afforded to us by our constitution) to one another, insist our way is the only way, or live a life in which we only look to build up ourselves, our wealth, and our possessions.
I am not writing this as one who has it all figured out, as one who is as compassionate and humble as Jesus. Absolutely not. I am writing this as a reminder to myself and hopefully as a call to action for anyone reading this. Are our words as authentic, compassionate, and grace-filled as those of Christ? When we use our words, are we loving others as Jesus loved us? Are we bearing crosses or swords when we respond to our brothers and sisters?
My words feel inadequate here. My heart knows more than my head can express.
I will bow out of this post with humility and say, I don't have all the answers; I am no biblical scholar; I simply want to live a life of compassion, humility, and love.
And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. Micah 6:8
I subscribed to his Facebook page a few months ago, after my husband had the privilege of hearing him speak at a youth conference this summer. Just yesterday, Shane posted an article he had written for the Huffington Post entitled What Would Jesus Say to the NRA?
What would he say? Shane captures it so well, I won't attempt to re-write the article from my own perspective; I'll let you read it and draw your own conclusions.
What I want to write here is this: What do the words of Jesus mean to us today? When we use his words to justify an action or belief, are we sure we are reflecting the true, authentic, servant leader of Jesus?
I feel like the authentic compassion and love of Jesus is often missing when we sling words at one another, deny basic rights (rights afforded to us by our constitution) to one another, insist our way is the only way, or live a life in which we only look to build up ourselves, our wealth, and our possessions.
I am not writing this as one who has it all figured out, as one who is as compassionate and humble as Jesus. Absolutely not. I am writing this as a reminder to myself and hopefully as a call to action for anyone reading this. Are our words as authentic, compassionate, and grace-filled as those of Christ? When we use our words, are we loving others as Jesus loved us? Are we bearing crosses or swords when we respond to our brothers and sisters?
My words feel inadequate here. My heart knows more than my head can express.
I will bow out of this post with humility and say, I don't have all the answers; I am no biblical scholar; I simply want to live a life of compassion, humility, and love.
And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. Micah 6:8
12.23.2012
a new title? nah.
I feel so removed from my blog's title anymore as running does not have the place in my world right now as it did when I began writing. I hate to start a new blog, though, and I do intend to make running a part of my life again...so I'll keep the title for now. Let's just think of "on the run" as describing the fact that my life really never stops any more :)
With that, I'll begin a new post. I have been itching to write again for a long time- with so many things on my mind and heart (from Chik-fil-a, to the recent election, to women's health issues, to being a full time mother in a full time outside of home work world, to the recent school shootings...). I am hoping to revive this space again for a place for thoughtful writing to help me process those things I often feel in my heart but need help expressing.
My most recent post has me smiling to myself. 8.5 months in to raising our happy little boy, and I couldn't be more elated that he is who he is- a smiling, squealing, into everything he shouldn't be little boy.
I saw a post on FB that sparked my desire to write today. A post about our "Pinterest" world in which it seems we are all in competition to be the craftiest, most homemade organic mommas out there. And the moment we can't compete, we feel like absolute failures. Well- my response to that post is first: Kudos! My second response comes not from my own words but that of another momma, a favorite of mine: Pregnant Chicken. Every mother must read this- Why you are never failing as a mother.
Read it.
Memorize it.
Find comfort in it.
Love your child(ren) with every fiber of your being and let that love fill them beyond the brim. That's all they need. The rest will fall into place.
I saw a post on FB that sparked my desire to write today. A post about our "Pinterest" world in which it seems we are all in competition to be the craftiest, most homemade organic mommas out there. And the moment we can't compete, we feel like absolute failures. Well- my response to that post is first: Kudos! My second response comes not from my own words but that of another momma, a favorite of mine: Pregnant Chicken. Every mother must read this- Why you are never failing as a mother.
Read it.
Memorize it.
Find comfort in it.
Love your child(ren) with every fiber of your being and let that love fill them beyond the brim. That's all they need. The rest will fall into place.
snips and snails
**Author's note: This post was written way back in May 2012, just weeks after our precious boy entered the world. Apparently I was waiting on something else to "hit" me about this topic before posting as I find it here in draft form. Let's just go with the draft, shall we? Please note, our rumbly, tumbly little boy is a whopping 8.5 months old now!
I have no idea what a snip is. I am not sure that is crucial when raising a boy, but it seems to be what they are made of. This is one of many things about boys I do not know but will soon be learning as I continue on the adventure of raising our own Mr. C.
I feel so blessed to be the momma of a snuggly, rolly polly, smelly, wiggly little boy. We had no idea if C was a boy or girl before he arrived the morning of April 4th. Our entire pregnancy I imagined he was a boy. I just "knew" somehow in my inmost being that my doctor would proudly say "it's a boy!" when our baby entered this world. I was not surprised one bit.
Surprised? No.
Nervous? Yes.
I was happy and elated that our sweet baby was here with a healthy cry and an even healthier head of hair! But I was nervous. Nervous about having a baby boy. Nervous about raising a baby boy. Nervous because I feel I know n-o-t-h-i-n-g about raising little boys! (And then I realized I know nothing about raising girls, either, and I felt some relief :)).
As we brought C home from the hospital and began our lives as a 3 person family, my mind kept moving to the future. Sure, I can do this baby stuff. But what about later? What about the toddler years when he is a rambunctious little tumbleweed of a boy and I am exhausted just trying to keep up with him? What about those teenage years when he has to deal with boy teenage things and I have no idea how to help him with those boy teenage things? (And then I realized that C has a wonderful father who can help him..and even shed some light for me on these things).
As I was on a walk with our little "buddy" as we so often call him, his plush soccer ball, attached to his stroller, caught my eye. Suddenly my heart and my mind were flooded with warm thoughts of this little dark haired boy with dirty little knees chasing after an actual soccer ball amidst a herd of his own kind, smiling and giggling as his feet make contact, beaming at us with pride when he scores his first goal.
And not long after that walk I was digging in our garden planting our vegetables for the year and my heart leapt at the sight of the wriggly worms crawling in and out of the dirt. I imagined C digging in that same dirt in summers to come, delighting in those wiggly little creatures, grabbing fistfuls of dirt and squealing as his little hands get dirtier and dirtier.
As I reflect on the life that is to come with our amazing, sweet, crazy haired little boy (seriously, his hair is worth mentioning again--it's awesome!), I get so excited. So excited to raise this little boy to be a kind, gentle man; to enjoy the world around him; to discover his passions and never fear pursuing them; to have a deep faith; to know that no matter what he is always loved.
I have no idea what a snip is. I am not sure that is crucial when raising a boy, but it seems to be what they are made of. This is one of many things about boys I do not know but will soon be learning as I continue on the adventure of raising our own Mr. C.
I feel so blessed to be the momma of a snuggly, rolly polly, smelly, wiggly little boy. We had no idea if C was a boy or girl before he arrived the morning of April 4th. Our entire pregnancy I imagined he was a boy. I just "knew" somehow in my inmost being that my doctor would proudly say "it's a boy!" when our baby entered this world. I was not surprised one bit.
Surprised? No.
Nervous? Yes.
I was happy and elated that our sweet baby was here with a healthy cry and an even healthier head of hair! But I was nervous. Nervous about having a baby boy. Nervous about raising a baby boy. Nervous because I feel I know n-o-t-h-i-n-g about raising little boys! (And then I realized I know nothing about raising girls, either, and I felt some relief :)).
As we brought C home from the hospital and began our lives as a 3 person family, my mind kept moving to the future. Sure, I can do this baby stuff. But what about later? What about the toddler years when he is a rambunctious little tumbleweed of a boy and I am exhausted just trying to keep up with him? What about those teenage years when he has to deal with boy teenage things and I have no idea how to help him with those boy teenage things? (And then I realized that C has a wonderful father who can help him..and even shed some light for me on these things).
As I was on a walk with our little "buddy" as we so often call him, his plush soccer ball, attached to his stroller, caught my eye. Suddenly my heart and my mind were flooded with warm thoughts of this little dark haired boy with dirty little knees chasing after an actual soccer ball amidst a herd of his own kind, smiling and giggling as his feet make contact, beaming at us with pride when he scores his first goal.
And not long after that walk I was digging in our garden planting our vegetables for the year and my heart leapt at the sight of the wriggly worms crawling in and out of the dirt. I imagined C digging in that same dirt in summers to come, delighting in those wiggly little creatures, grabbing fistfuls of dirt and squealing as his little hands get dirtier and dirtier.
As I reflect on the life that is to come with our amazing, sweet, crazy haired little boy (seriously, his hair is worth mentioning again--it's awesome!), I get so excited. So excited to raise this little boy to be a kind, gentle man; to enjoy the world around him; to discover his passions and never fear pursuing them; to have a deep faith; to know that no matter what he is always loved.
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