butterflies

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.