There are so many tidbits of information orbiting the hemispheres of my cerebral cortex at the moment that I doubt my present ability to write with any clarity. My mind is peppered with the uncertainty of momentous change and the pong-ball mayhem of my endless to dos. Most days I surface only seconds long enough to gasp hungrily for air before sinking again below the weight of my tiring schedule.
Interestingly enough, in the midst of my deep, sparkling chaos my husband and I have begun to consider our family plan. Unbeknownst to him, many a solitary tear has strolled across my cheeks in the last few weeks as a result. If you’ve read my blog for any short period of time, you know how vividly I dream of children. At the same time, a child means absolute upheaval. What I desire most frightens this control freak in much the same way that a dog trembles under the refuge of a dining table in a thunderstorm. The boom of black clouds rioting is enough to send rational consideration out the window. I married my soul mate who promised me partnership for better or worse; regardless, I cannot seem to squelch this innate fear I have of surrendering dictatorial governance over my own well-being. I rule me. I take care of me. I prosper, because of me. This regime, this formula, this methodology - it has worked for decades. Jessica is because Jessica does all and [please pre-excuse my French] I am scared absolutely shitless to let someone else take over. How can a caregiver accept the role of care given? The answer: with a vehement amount of resistance, procrastination and relative anxiety that materializes in the form of needless overexertion. Hence, the periodic tear or two. How else is a wound up girl like me to release those built up bubbles of hesitation?
Interestingly enough, in the midst of my deep, sparkling chaos my husband and I have begun to consider our family plan. Unbeknownst to him, many a solitary tear has strolled across my cheeks in the last few weeks as a result. If you’ve read my blog for any short period of time, you know how vividly I dream of children. At the same time, a child means absolute upheaval. What I desire most frightens this control freak in much the same way that a dog trembles under the refuge of a dining table in a thunderstorm. The boom of black clouds rioting is enough to send rational consideration out the window. I married my soul mate who promised me partnership for better or worse; regardless, I cannot seem to squelch this innate fear I have of surrendering dictatorial governance over my own well-being. I rule me. I take care of me. I prosper, because of me. This regime, this formula, this methodology - it has worked for decades. Jessica is because Jessica does all and [please pre-excuse my French] I am scared absolutely shitless to let someone else take over. How can a caregiver accept the role of care given? The answer: with a vehement amount of resistance, procrastination and relative anxiety that materializes in the form of needless overexertion. Hence, the periodic tear or two. How else is a wound up girl like me to release those built up bubbles of hesitation?
6 comments:
Heh, heh, heh, heh, heh! (evil laughter)....
Oh, uh... No, wait...
Serious advice. You'll never be "ready". You will always think "I can't do this. I have a career! Besides, do I really know how to be a mom? We aren't ready for such upheaval! I drive a Dodge Stratus!"
But, once you have them, your priorities instantly change - almost instinctually (assuming you are a normal, loving human being), and you wouldn't trade it for the world.
Every time I think to myself "man, I wish I could sleep 'til 11 o'clock...just this once" or "I wish we could just up and go to Florida on a whim" - as soon as I hear "Hi, Daddy!" in stereo when I walk through the door, I forget about all that nonsense.
I was thinking on this too. Phil puts it nicely and in a romantic context. I was thinking about this: "This regime, this formula, this methodology - it has worked for decades. Jessica is because Jessica does all..". That can still work, but it will change dramatically. Moreover, it can (and probably should) be 'picked up' again when you're ready to do so. This because very few families are fortunate enough (or have enough discipline) to live on just one salary. For strictly safety purposes, it's good to not be 'gone from the game' for too long. But still, if you're talented & fab, you can still manage to do this even a decade hence in all probability.
But each marriage is it's own invention. Each family comes up with their own unique solutions & approaches to these and many more issues. They may look and sound alike to others, but in nuance and application, they can and are often by necessity fairly divergent from some expectations & desires.
So yeah, the fear is always going to be there. More so after the kids are born. And yes, it'll always seem a bit strange and other worldly. But unless you join a cult or cultish religion hubs really should not have 'dictatorial governance' over your well being. It's always about compromise and seeing what works best given your own situation. So you already knew that. What you may not know yet, is that the fears relatively speaking are probably certainly tolerable. In the end you'll always fear for your kids more than for yourself.
Cheers & Good Luck! 'VJ'
What Phil said. I had similar parenthood fears when Lucy & I first seriously discussed manufacturing tiny humans, but I just took a deep breath and said "people a lot less capable than us have done a pretty decent job in the course of the past 100,000 years."
I agree with everyone so far.
Also, Jess...you will be one of the most giving, caring, loving mothers possible.
All of us who decided to become mothers went through this. And some of us cut our career paths a little shorter by making the choice of motherhood. My first attempt ended in a miscarriage and I always thought it was God's way of recognizing that I wasn't quite ready yet. Adding children to your life does make you question whether you will ever again be in control! I'm still wondering 27 years later.
Someone told me once, "it's like the college experience, only better." What he meant was, during your first week of college, you're scared, you're disoriented, you don't know where to go or what to think, everything is new and you're stumbling from event to event. But then, before you know it, it's over. They grow up fast. And they'll be gone. And you'll be as sad as the day is long when you drive them to college, build their lofts, and have to leave; and it'll kill you to leave them. The silence in the house will be debilitating. You'll wish they were still 10 years old and it was Super Bowl Sunday. Well... this is what my father told me.
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