Half a Year, or How Far We've Come

The time between the end of January to the end of July this year has been the fastest six months of my life. I think this perception that time is going by too quickly is based on two main factors: having very little free time and caring for a person who changes much each month. I've also had to train myself to slow down and be more mindful about what I do and say, as I feel I can be distracted like never before. There's probably something in there about the hormonal and chemical changes I've experienced that makes it feel like the pathways in my brain are being re-routed, plus a lack of sleep. Not that Atticus doesn't sleep well - he sleeps wonderfully - just that he's a night owl like his dad, and I always have to get up early.

As I look at this family photo from his first week, I realize that back then I didn't just give birth to Atticus, but I gave birth to myself as a mother. People always said that becoming a parent will change your life, but I think there's no way to predict just how much your life will be turned upside-down until it happens. There is a new tremendous capacity to love that I experience somatically, as if my chest is enlarging to take in everything that my baby is.

Yet with this capacity to love so completely comes a vulnerability to get your heart broken: through loss, through pain my child may experience, through the onset of increasing independence, or through the knowledge that I could never expect a mother's love to be requited in just the same way. That's not the purpose of my love, anyway, since the duty of a parent is to give. But with love comes attachment, and with attachment comes suffering, as any Buddhist could tell you. Or maybe it's through suffering that we develop our large ability to love, and that's how parenthood changes you. You devote all you have to someone else's welfare, and in the process you gain even more love and commitment to that person. Maybe it's both. I can't decide.

As Atticus grows, I'm looking forward to him showing me who he is. These next few months will be important ones where he forms who he's going to be. Even at this age, I can sense that he's an observer. Strangers most often comment on his eyes, which aside from being beautifully gigantic and blue, have always been great at focusing and holding a gaze for quite some time. He watches his world before diving in. He's careful about forming an opinion, but once he's decided something, or someone, is good, he dives into the experience with his whole being. Huge greetings and smiles make my day.

All in all, we're enjoying our situation. On a break from school, Kevin is at home doing job searches and amazes me with his responsiveness, patience, and gentleness in caring for Atticus. I am appreciating work and my good projects. For awhile, I ran myself nearly ragged by spending every minute outside of work caring for Atticus, which meant I got no time to decompress and care for myself. I would like to let go of this working mom guilt, but nearly everywhere I turn, there are a lot of mixed messages in our society about the expectation of parents. So I'm discovering that motherhood is a huge exercise in trust. Trusting yourself, trusting your partner, trusting your child, and trusting the process. They say the first year of a baby's life is about learning to trust that the world is a safe place, that we'll be taken care of. I venture that it's not only the baby who is learning this.