It’s taken me a long time to write this post. The last 4
months of my life have been a roller coaster of emotions, sometimes due to the
changes in my actual chemical make-up, sometimes due to my circumstances,
sometimes good, but other times bad. I had the baby. Labor was, well, laborious. At the end of many hours of labor including 4.5 hours of pushing, out came Logan Jame Bragg. 9 pounds, 11.6 ounces. He is, without a doubt the best part of my life. He also makes me think of things in such a different way. The importance of certain things is magnified. Having a baby has been a catalyst to so
many conversations I've had with myself and with others about where I am, where
I want to be and why it feels like I’ll never make it. And the reality is that,
even though I’m amazed at the capacity we have to love our offspring and my
heart explodes with love for this little boy every second of everyday, it’s
still not enough.
My life is lacking.
I’m not OK.
I. AM. UNHAPPY.
This is something that we aren't supposed to admit when we've
got an adorable brand new bouncing baby boy who we love at home. Being a mother
is supposed to make the world make sense. Nothing else matters. And Logan truly
does make me happy. I cherish the moments I have with him. My life before him
seems like a universe away… I can remember life without him, but I can’t
imagine what life would be like now if he wasn't here. Suddenly, my old, pre
baby life seems glaringly incomplete. Like a paint by number painting missing an
entire digit. I hold on to my moments with him so fiercely and yet they slip
away. They seem like grains of sand, running too quickly through my fingers. I just want to pause these moments and be able to hold on to them. (I guess
that’s what Instagram is for.) I love
watching him explore his world – things that I long ago stopped observing, he
views with wonder and amazement and an intense concentration that is wonderful to observe.
The vibrant green of the grass in our back yard, the trees blowing in the wind,
the ceiling fan (that last one is really just him. Ceiling fans are really not
exciting to watch anymore… but he loves them!) I also worry about him, as most
mothers do. When he's crying, as he does quite often, is he sick? I've convinced myself more than once that he has autism because he
won’t make eye contact with me. 8 week olds aren't really good at the whole eye
contact thing yet. I think about who he’ll be and what he’ll like. I wonder if
he’ll marry or have kids of his own. I wonder if he’ll prefer sports or
academics. I wonder what the world will be like for him as he grows. Even now,
I’m smiling thinking about it…
And yet, I am not happy. Motherhood is wonderful. It truly,
truly is. But it has also consumed my life and left little of me to give to
everything else. I should first say that I understand that my issues are first
world problems. I am grateful to have a job. But Maslow didn't stop at just
food and shelter and work. True self-actualization requires self-esteem, confidence, and
an entire top tier filled with things I don’t do. In fact, my current situation
has so damaged my self-esteem and confidence about my abilities that I’m having
trouble convincing myself that I’m worth pursuing another job, on the nights I have enough energy to job hunt. I read listings
for positions that I love and immediately, my mind goes to “it’s not like I’d
ever get that job anyway” and I click on, searching for something that I feel
like I’d be good at. That I deserve.
It used to be having a job that I didn't enjoy and didn't
challenge me was just an annoyance. Something to pass the time while I finished
school. Now, I find myself with a decade of experience and a masters degree with
nothing more than student loans to show for it. Now, it’s a rotting albatross around my neck. Something
that prevents me from spending time with my child. Something that makes me take
my child to another woman. A woman that will probably see him roll over, sit
up, crawl and walk before I do. A woman who gets to enjoy smiles and coos all
day while I fight with the bad sleeper all night.
And I understand that my life is out of balance. Part of it
is that Terrance got a new job with a great new company. He’s doing very well
and I’m incredibly proud of him. It also means his work schedule is that he’s
gone just about 3 weeks out of every month. So, for Logan, Leo, Baxter and Charlie,
I am it. I take care of the baby. I take care of the house. I take care of the
dogs. It’s what I do when I’m not at work. It’s who I am now. Part
of it is that I’m breastfeeding, so I am tied to him. I can’t go see a movie or
get my hair done or anything that will separate me from him for more than 3
hours, even if I had help. Sometimes, breastfeeding feels like an anchor so
heavy that I’ll never reach the surface again. And then, truth be told,
sometimes I love it. Which is good because I've found that the whole “breastfeed
and the baby weight will just fall off” is the biggest load of crap that anyone
has ever shoveled. They love to tell you that you burn 500-600 calories a day
breastfeeding. The tiny print on that is that you have to replace it or your
supply goes down. Nerds. Part of it is that I'm still in pain. Things didn't exactly snap back together like they were supposed to. I still can't walk around the block comfortably. I still wake up in pain. Pre baby, I was a runner. I wasn't a fast runner, but I ran. Now I have to grimace through my sedentary work to go home and lift a little person and all of his accoutrements. Being in constant pain is draining. It does a number on your outlook. I'm getting help, but progress is slow and frustrating.
As I drove to work today, on the verge of tears as I am
most days I drive to work, I suddenly got mad. Why? Because it’s not fair. I got mad because I had to leave my son to come to this job. Because I don't have a lot of help. I want to be able to go to the store by myself. And then I feel guilty because I want to be away from him. And I really don't. But just for a little. To feel like a person unto myself again - just Kelly. Not being solely defined as Logan's mom or Terrance's wife. And because I want to be able to be the me I want to be. I
really could have done more. And I haven’t. I always thought that if you’re
nice and you work hard, things will happen for you. For the past two years, every move I've made has
been for someone else. I encouraged Terrance to take a job in Ohio because it
would do so much for his career. And it has. And I’m grateful. I took a job I
knew I wouldn't like so that I could move to Ohio and be with my husband. For 6
months, I commuted two and a half hours round trip for him. I stayed at that job for our family. I wanted a
house for our family. Now, I’m faced with the reality that I’m stuck. And I don’t
blame Terrance. I did encourage him. I’m happy that he’s doing so well. But
where does that leave me? When do I get to make a move for myself again? Never? Am I still allowed to want more? Or do my roles as mother and wife simply have to trump my role as person, at least right now? I am aware that Logan, despite my strenuous objections will continue to grow and move on. This time is so brief, should I just settle in for the professionally unfulfilled, intellectually stunted ride now? In a year will it be better? 5 years?
From my observations, women are faced with this dilemma more than men. Is it because we are the mothers, the sustenance providers, the traditional care givers? Are we just biologically wired to do this? Has the universe set us up this way? My schooling goes well beyond my husband's and I am an actual card carrying member of NOW, yet when I became pregnant, my career took an immediate back seat to his. He has continued to advance and I'm, on my best day, treading water.
To recap, I had a baby. And now I get to figure out where
the rest of me is supposed to go.
Terrance and I had a conversation the other day about our
move up here and how I have trouble driving by Dayton because it makes me sad.
I remember when we were moving here – the excitement. The anticipation. The
hope that life would be better. And in ways, it is. But in some ways, nothing has changed.
But
in one greater-than-I-ever-could-have-imagined-it-could-be way it has. And maybe that's enough for right now.
