I am an introvert.
If you know me, you are probably not surprised by that statement.
I used to hate this about myself. In fact, growing up, I just thought of myself as "shy." And I hated being "shy." I grew up and learned that what was masking itself as shyness was really just my own need to be by myself a little more than other people. I needed to seek out few, close friendships rather than a huge circle of friends and acquaintences. Thanks to Susan Cain, I have actually come to embrace this about myself; I've really come to love it and see it as one of my greatest assets.
Just when I was growing to love this part of my personality...motherhood happened. Motherhood happened and my heart felt fuller than it has ever felt before. Motherhood happened and I felt like I had actually found my calling. Motherhood happened and I felt a wholeness and a contentment I had never, ever felt before.
Motherhood happened and as the days grew into weeks, the weeks into months, the months into years (!), I began to feel a new level of mental exhaustion I had never felt before. I chalked it up to all the things that motherhood is; all the caring for another human being, worrying about doing things the "right" way, waking at odd hours of the night in response to a child's needs and cry.
And then one day I noticed that even on those less stressful days, those days where things seemed to just come naturally, the day's schedule went perfectly, the baby wasn't as needy, was sleeping all night, nursed well, ate well, played well...that even on those days, those really, really good and happy days, by the day's end, I couldn't wait for just one minute to myself. I couldn't wait for the baby to go to bed so I could just sit and be.
And I felt guilty. Horribly guilty. Here I was, finally "getting" this whole mothering thing, with a pretty awesome, laid back baby, feeling confident in my execution of motherhood, and yet, all I could think about by lunchtime was the next time I could steal time away just for myself.
And yes I realize this is not an uncommon thought. But I work all day; I send my child to daycare while I talk to adults and have lunch with adults and get time alone to myself in a car. And yet, even when I would get home with my baby (whom I hadn't seen most of the day), on many days I still just longed for bedtime to come immediately.
And that's when I realized: It wasn't that I didn't love being a mother, caring for this beautiful human my husband and I created, this hilarious, snuggly, wonderfully smart and funny little guy. It wasn't that I didn't love the cuddles and the time and the bonding. It was just introverted me needing to recharge, to decompress (by myself), to turn "off" what was constantly "on" throughout my day as a professional and as a mother.
And once I was able to identify that about myself, I felt a little less guilty. It's still a struggle. I still have moments of guilt, moments in which I feel like a failure. But I know it's not failure. I know I am a good mother. I know my husband and I are doing a great job of loving the mess out of our little boy.
I just have to remind myself that it's ok to need to recharge. It's ok not to sign up for all the play dates or mom's nights out. It's ok to feel a flutter of excitement as nap time or bed time near. It's ok.
Because taking care of me is also taking care of my child. Understanding me allows me to be the best, most nurturing and kind parent I can be to my child.
I admit I have to work on this introversion of mine. I sometimes have to do things that don't feel so "comfortable" in the moment in order to really engage with my son, to roar like a lion, or waddle like a penguin, or hop like a frog. But I do it. And it's challenging. And my exhaustion may reach a whole new level at the end of that day. But it's worth it. To hear him laugh, it's worth it. To watch his eyes crinkle up when he smiles, it's worth it. To hear him say, "I yuv you."
It's worth it.
So, as we patiently await the arrival of number two, I recognize that adding a new one to the mix won't make this part of parenting any easier for me. But with time, I am learning to dance with the amazing blessing that is, the holy challenge that is before me, and finding the "beat" that works for my family and me.
roar.
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