We've come a long way, baby

Almost 6 months ago now, I gave birth to a bright-eyed baby boy. Now, before you click away from this post thinking I might get all sappy on you and talk about how precious my son is, give me a chance. I woke up yesterday thinking about the progress that's been made in the past 6 months: for Collin as a kiddo, for Jon and I as a couple, for the three of us as a family, and for me as a Christian, mom, woman and graduate student. Much of the progress that's been made is to be expected (Collin's got a couple teeth, Jon and I have grown closer and had a couple of fights and I have learned the true meaning of exhaustion). But one of the more interesting things I have learned, is that for the past six months...really the past 16 months (including pregnancy), I've felt like I was on a stage in my own body. Not until yesterday morning (ironically the day after I published a public blog about my life) did I realize that I'd been performing my life instead of living it. 

In my experience, the first-born child is the most attended to. I am a second-born, and while I was certainly spoiled as the "baby of the family" and the only girl, I was less "fussed over" because my parents had already been there and done that with my brother. When I watched my brother have his two kids, I noticed how cautiously cared for the first-born was in his first year and how differently cared for the second was in his first year. Don't get me wrong, the second child is dearly loved and was absolutely not neglected or UNcared for, he was just dealt with in a lighter manner. I think this is a logical progression for families. As new parents, there is an overwhelming sense of fear and amazement that comes with bringing that first kiddo home. They are so tiny, so helpless and so apparently fragile. Yet they are so tough! You learn this along the way as they bump their heads, slip on the hard floor and let out merely a whimper when you cut their finger instead of their fingernail. But this post isn't about what it's like to be a new parent. This post is about what it's like to live your life in the third person, as I feel I've been doing, since November 2009. 

That's the month we found out I was pregnant. Everything changed. All of a sudden, I became reasonably concerned with what I ate, what I drank, which side I slept on, what I inhaled, which DisneyWorld rides I rode, and how much iron was in my diet. After the first few months, I began going to the OB/GYN every month for checkups.  They checked my pee and my weight and all sorts of other flattering details of my womanhood, and I just reminded myself that's it's all for the greater good. But, unknowingly, I was developing an "out-of-body" type existence where I began to think about me not as a person, but as a temporary host for this growing being inside of me, and nothing more. All of a sudden, I started ignoring my needs and I become ultra-disciplined about the needs of the growing baby (which is generally a good thing). As the weeks go by and I began feeling kicks in my belly and seeing the movement through my shirt, the "outsider" perspective only got more intense. What a surreal experience that a PERSON was in my tummy (visions of the alien from "Spaceballs" were constant visitors in my active imagination). Finally, as the remaining weeks turned into days and then hours, I began forgetting who I was 10 months before and start realizing I was about to be utterly and eternally changed. That's when I really started my stage performance. Not having a clue what I was supposed to do, I gave birth, brought the infant home, and BOOM, there we were.

For the next 6 months (July to January), I found myself becoming hyper-alert and hyper-attentive to this small creature now in the outside world. I was enrolled in 14 hours of graduate level Seminary courses and when classes started in August, I couldn't see past my 3-week-old to read a book. I dropped all my credit courses and vowed to start up again in the Spring of 2011. This ended up being a good decision and I was able to devote the time I needed to learn how to be a mom. But as I began courses this past week, I've finally realized that since Collin has been born, I have ceased being me. Sure, Jon and I have done a good job of getting out and about, staying involved with our church Life Group and letting others watch the kiddo so we can go out on a date or have a full 24 hours to ourselves, but what I mean is that I have been spending 24 hours of every day as if I were babysitting, and I haven't been living. Now, if every new mom realizes this difference before their child is 6 months old, then call me a slow learner. But I would place my bet on the fact that many new parents, knowingly or not, act the same way for years before finding a good balance. 

Here's what I mean, when I used to babysit, I would devote all my attention to those kiddos. I fed them, played with them, talked with them, did everything they wanted me to do and it was only after they went to sleep that I found time to watch the movie the parents had left for me. Now, as a parent, I've noticed that I've still been in that role. I realized that I am spending every waking minute trying to accommodate my son and trying to find out what I need to do next. Thoughts in my head go something like this, "What book should I read to him now?, Should I finish my shower or go rescue him from his crying fit?, I don't have time to eat because he'll be awake soon., How am I going to write a 10-page paper or study my Bible when Collin is awake?, Do I really just leave him playing by himself on the floor?, I am such a neglectful mom!" But then yesterday I realized that I am not babysitting and I am not visiting. Collin is my son today, tomorrow and for the rest of both our lives. Granted, I don't want to waste the precious moments we can have playing and learning new skills, but I can't lose myself because of him either. You see, when Collin's grandparents keep him or come to visit, they can do nothing but pay attention to him. He is all they are concerned with. And rightfully so. That's the role of the grandparent in today's modern family (unless they are the caregivers). They are supposed to ooooooh and ahhhhhh and get nothing done until Jr goes home. But the role is different for the parents, and for a long time now, I've struggled with thinking that I should act the same way as my mom, or Jon's folks, or the countless visitors we've had who have loved my little one to pieces. I've made myself feel guilty when I watch TV while Collin is kicking his toys in his play gym. And I've beat myself up when I don't talk to him constantly as I feed him...because that's what good moms do, right? But I have to stop acting! I am learning that being myself is ultimately going to be better than pretending to be some mom I've created in my mind (which is probably not the mom I would really want to be anyway). 

I love my son, and I know he loves me, and many times throughout the day I give him my undivided attention, but I can't do it all the time. I am not babysitting; I am a permanent fixture. While I realize that I may have a limited time with him (we never know when the Good Lord will take us home) and I know that time flies and he'll have kids of his own before I know it, I simply cannot lose myself, the person God has been molding and shaping for 30 years to be, because I am so wrapped up in my child. There will be "hyper" days when I am loaded with energy and want to tickle him and dance and sing with him, but there will also be "down" days, when I am tired and would rather hold him while I watch TV or type on my computer. And every day, hyper or somber, I should commit to letting him spend time on his own while I take care of something that is adult-ish, like taking a longer shower, getting my Seminary or Bible Study homework done, or talking on the phone to long-lost friends. You may label me as selfish, or you may feel I've shared a common truth about parenting, or maybe, in some small way, I've helped deliver you from stereotypes of good mothering. However you take what I've shared, I hope that when it's all said and done, when Collin is grown and out of the house, I am able to say that I did the best I could, while maintaining my identity in Christ, my uniqueness as the individual God's gifted me to be, and that Collin and I are two different, loving and well-balanced people.