M & H before work this morning
Today was my first day back to work after a nice, long, heavenly maternity leave. It is unusual, and I feel grateful, for such a long time off. Because of some intricacies of academe, the timing of Meera’s birth, and a progressive FMLA policy at Lehigh, I was able to be “off” from May 28 (the day Meera was born) until now. It has been 7 months of bliss. Sincerely. Some women probably say that sarcastically. I do not. It has been bliss for me. Which has made going back to work even harder than it might otherwise be. Yesterday, at just the right moment, I said to the boys, “Kyle and Owen, tomorrow I have to go to work. Do you remember what my job is?” Owen said, “No, I don’t remember.” Kyle thought about it a second and then he said, “I do remember!” I said, “What is it Ky Ky? What is my job?” He said, “Your job is to take care of us and keep us safe.” It took me by surprise. And it was so perfect. “Yes!!!” I said, trying to hide my surprise (this was not the answer I had been looking for). “Yes, you’re exactly right, that’s my most important job! Do you remember my other job — my job when I go to work?” “Yes,” he said, proudly, “my mommy is a professor!” Owen jumped in, “Yes! Oh! That’s right! My mommy is a professor!!!” When I explained that I wouldn’t be picking them up from school because I’d be “working at my Lehigh office,” they acted totally unfazed about the change in routine. If anything they were excited. I figured that’s how they’d be. That’s just how they are. But me, well, I’m another story. I feel a deep sense of ambivalence about going back to work. Never before in my life have I felt so profoundly ambivalent about anything.ambivalent (ām-bĭv’-ə-lənt) –noun 1.) uncertainty or fluctuation, esp. when caused by inability to make a choice or by a simultaneous desire to say or do two opposite or conflicting things. 2.) the coexistence within an individual of positive and negative feelings toward the same person, object, or action, simultaneously drawing him or her in opposite directions.
K, H, M this morning, before work
On one hand, I know for certain that I do not want to be home full-time; that I want to work beyond my family. On the other hand, I am not thrilled (at all) about returning to work and being away from home. I am committed to the work I do. I am committed to the family that I’ve made. I want to contribute to the world in a meaningful way, using my gifts and privileges as best I can, maximizing upon the opportunities I have. But still, I can’t help but want to be with my babies while they are still young and wanting to be with me. Like many people, I imagine, I want it both ways, but am all too well aware that it doesn’t work that way. You can’t have it all. You can have part of each, but you can’t have all of both. What I always come back to is this: I believe that every person has the right to have their personal potential unconstrained. What does that mean for me, as an individual, at this point in my life? How do we balance all we can be with what we want to be? How can we be mothers with empowered careers and not feel like we’re short-changing ourselves, our kids, our work? How can we be good mothers without feeling like we’re short-changing the rest? I could go on and on and on. But I won’t. Whole volumes have been written on it. Many others have already gone on and on. I’ve thought so much about it that I bore even myself with it at this point. Plus, the truth is, it is all too complex to do it any justice in a blog post. So, I’m left… with the internal personal private ambivalence. And I’m left… feeling judged by everyone out there — the high-powered-career-working-moms and the working-because-they-have-no-other-choice-moms and the stay-at-home-moms and everyone else in between. I dread even posting this because of the reaction I’m sure to get. And it is hard to take. But the personal ambivalence, deep within me, is even harder than the judgements that I feel swirling around me. Regardless of all of it — the personal and the public, the intimate and the overt — here I am. Back to work. After seven months off. The day has come. The boys are back to seeing Mommy dressed for work in the morning (“Why does my mommy look so beautiful?” Owen asked this morning as we sat together at the breakfast table), and they are back to being two of only a handful in their classes who don’t have mommy there every single day to pick them up at 1:00 when school’s done. It is familiar for them, I’m sure. And familiar isn’t necessarily bad. But my baby girl… she is, for the first time, facing the reality that she didn’t even know was hers: the reality of having a working mother. A mother with a pretty demanding career. Over the next couple of weeks she’ll have to adjust to what she didn’t even know was coming. That, to me, feels like a loss of innocence. I have known it was coming, but she didn’t. And it feels painful for me. The thing is, though, that ultimately I do know that my three kids will be great. I’m absolutely sure of it. I know because I can see it in them. They all three love life. They are fully engaged with life. They are happy, self-confident, grounded children. And I’m fortunate to have a husband who is just as deeply committed to me working as I am. I’m not worried about the four of them. But what is left is me. And down at the core of all of my ambivalence lies the simple truth that actually, mostly, I’m just sad to have to miss out. I’m sad to have to miss out on a whole day’s worth of slubberly sloppy drooly kisses all over my baby’s face. I’m sad to have someone else pick up my bambinos at school. I’m sad that I won’t hear every one of the boys’ stories first, that I won’t put Meera down for every nap, that I won’t get to laugh at every single one of K & O’s antics, that I won’t hear every coo and babble from my girl, that I won’t make every afternoon snack, that I won’t change every diaper, that I won’t give every time-out. It isn’t so much that I’m worried about my three sweethearts. I’m more just selfishly sad for me. And jealous of whoever gets to do all those things with them. At the same time, I have a career that I’ve been building for over 15 years. I have a PhD, I do work I believe to be important for the world, I have tenure. I have things to do. Things that are larger than what lies within my self, my children, my family, or my home. In my heart I know that I cannot quit. I know that I need to do. So here I am. And here we are.
Meera this afternoon, taken by Braydon
I figured the first day back would be emotional. It was, a little bit. I cried, of course, when I had to leave my baby this morning. I figured that it might feel good to get away from home and caught up in the workday without being tied to an infant all day. It did feel good, of course, a little bit. Mostly, though, what I’ve been thinking about today has caught me totally off guard. It isn’t what I expected at all. I hadn’t anticipated it. Mostly today what I’ve been thinking about is how grateful I am.M, H, O this evening, after work
Grateful that I got the time I did. Grateful that Meera gave me this gift. Grateful for the time spent with her — and because of that time “off,” the time I got to spend with Kyle and Owen too. I’m grateful to have been witness firsthand the the early development of the beautiful sibling relationships between my three children. I’m grateful for the sweet and gentle spirit of my baby girl and the peaceful addition she is to our family. I’m grateful for the seven months I’ve spent just sitting and watching as her life begins to unfold. I’m grateful for the cuddles, the moments sitting still together in the family room, the hours in the rocking chair, the months of nursing, the days of summer and then of fall and then of winter — able to be “just a mom.” I’m grateful to have played so many hours with the boys, to have watched them ride their bikes and dig in the sandbox and shovel snow. I’m grateful for all the play dough and painting and baking and I’m grateful for every single new development of the first seven months of Meera’s precious little life. I’m grateful for all that I’ve learned during this time. I’m grateful for the time. I’m grateful to have felt what it feels like, at least for seven months, to just sit back and breathe and enjoy. Most of all, I’m grateful to have been able to give Meera this gift. A gift that I was not able to give to my boys. A gift that is precious and profound. As a mother who knows what it is to not be with your baby for the first seven months, the value of these past seven months is not lost on me. I will forever be grateful for this time that I’ve had. Having had it has given our whole family, and individually every member of it, a precious gift. It doesn’t heal us completely, and it doesn’t protect us forever, but it surely helps. And I’ll forever be holding it in a sweet, soft spot in my heart. I am so thankful for Meera Grace– this tiny, gentle soul who has found us and filled a special place in our family. I am so thankful for all that has been and all that will come. And so now we end one era and embark anew. And we give thanks, again, for all that we’ve got.
Every once in a while if my dad is on a business trip that takes him to our area, he’ll go out of his way to come for a visit. These times are very special because we get MorFar all to ourselves and vice-versa. I love these visits!!! He arrived last night after the 3 bambinos were asleep. We had an awesome just-us-three-adults dinner with lamb chops that he brought. Then, this morning, it was a huge surprise to K & O when they woke up to find MorFar here. We hung out at home all morning then went out to Cosi for lunch before he left. We love MorFar.
P.S. click on the photo above to enlarge — check out the top teeth coming in on Little Miss!!!
Owen, to Heather, late this afternoon:
“Mommy, I’ve got some bad news and some good news. The good news is there’s a new airplane that is so fast it is super big, super wide, you sleep on it, and it is no noise– it is only loud when it lands, and it is the absolutely fastest airplane in the whole wide world. The bad news is, grown-ups can’t fit in it.”
One of the big happenings around here this week, as I prepare to go back to work next week, is that I’ve been ‘weaning’ Meera from nursing during the day. Slowly but surely I’ve been working on getting her to bottle feed (with formula) from the hours of 8:30am-5:30pm, while still nursing at night. For anyone who has experience with breastfeeding, you can imagine what a challenge this is for both baby and Mama!!! The week has gone really well, though (much better than I would have imagined), and as the week ends, both baby and Mama are doing very well with it all — all things considered. It has meant, however, that there have been lots more bottles around here. Bottles being prepared, bottles being fed, bottles sitting around the house, bottles in the sink, bottles in the dishwasher. For the past six months Kyle and Owen have been absolutely enthralled with all-things-breast-feeding…. and now, just as quickly as that whole thing started it has more-or-less ended (since basically I’m only nursing during the hours that they are asleep– so they don’t actually witness it much anymore). They have quickly moved on. And they are now enthralled with bottle-feeding. They have both determined quite concisely that they do not like formula (or, as they pronounce it, “foam-u-la”) — not one bit. But… they do like bottles. I’ve been letting them take a sip from Meera’s from time to time over the past few days. But today they requested their own. We poured “cow’s milk” into their bottles (they have taken to calling their regular milk “cow’s milk”; making the clear distinction between not only “breastmilk” but also “goat’s milk”… ???… what strange little boys they are?!?!!!!). Meera had formula. And the three of them sat on the couch together drinking their bottles. Quite the sight.The other day the boys were playing outside while I was in with Meera. I got her down for her nap, then headed out to check on them. This is what I found.
Driving home from Philadelphia on Sunday the 28th we had one of the most gorgeous sunsets imaginable surrounding us on the highway. It was spectacular. During the 10 days before/after Christmas the five of us had spent well over 30 hours in the car together. That is a lot for two very active four year olds and a six month old (not to mention their parents). I turned around to look at my kids — Meera was sound asleep in her carseat and the boys were quietly watching a video. The scene was so sweet and everyone was so contented. All the Christmas craze was done for another year. All of us were exhausted. All of us were happy. The beauty of the sunset was so intense. I snapped this photo as we rode off into the sunset, headed for home.
We got back from Christmas late on Saturday the 27th. After a 10+ hour drive in the car, we went straight to bed, got up the next morning, and got back in the car to drive to Philly. It is only 90 minutes to center city, but the thought of being in the car for another 3 hours round-trip was enough to make us all want to squirm out of our seatbelts. Meera, especially, was not thrilled with the idea! But it was well worth it; we had a great day with Auntie Sabrina and Gamma. We met them in Chinatown for dim sum. Kyle and Owen truly love being in any big city (I wonder where they get that???!!!? – ha!).
~-~Braydon and I love dim sum, but for everyone else it was a first. The food was great and the experience was lots of fun for all. Owen’s favorite dish was the pork dumplings (Braydon agreed). Kyle’s favorite was the broccoli rabe (Meera too– we let her gnaw on a piece and it occupied her for at least half our lunch). Gamma and Sabrina both liked the stir-fried noodles the best. My favorite was the eggplant. The fried tofu and the shrimp were other favorites too. K & O, especially, liked playing with the shrimp as well as eating them (since they were cooked whole with the heads still on).
~-~We had to get Kyle a smoothie after dim sum. We had never brought the boys to Chinatown in Philadelphia before, but have brought them to Chinatown in NYC several times. Kyle remembered that after lunch the last time we were in Chinatown, NYC we had bought smoothies on the street. He loves smoothies — they are one of his all time favorites. And smoothies seem extra good in Chinatown no matter what city you’re in. Owen had to have one too. They both chose strawberry. I love this picture of Sabrina with the boys.
~-~After Chinatown we went to Sabrina’s beautiful apartment. She had bought a gingerbread house making kit to do with K & O. It was the perfect afternoon activity. And, as Sabrina called it, the perfect “challenge” for an Auntie to do with these two wild nephews (!!!). In the end they did manage to build quite a nice gingerbread house (and Owen managed to eat quite a large amount of icing).
~-~Aunt and niece love-fest.
~-~Braydon, Gamma, Owen, Kyle before we headed home. Gamma gave the boys a puppet theater for Christmas. They love it.
We are 5 billion spinning tops careening into each other around the world.
We all feel it, we all know it; the horizon is moving perceptibly and more quickly everyday. The oceans are wild. We point to the things indicating that it is: global economic meltdown, decline of American prominence in the world, rise “of the rest”, a brand new Black president who is heralding in an era of hope for redemption and global recovery.
Deaths of loved ones, weddings of friends and holidays connect us in good and bad ways. Jobs lost, jobs started, the daily drop off at school and the car needing to be repaired remind of us stability and instability at all levels of our lives. The bounty of food on our table in winter, and the knowledge of our profound privilege just to eat is awakened by peering into eyes of our loved children.
Right now, at this time in this historic moment, our boat feels small; pummeled by the forces around us, afraid and powered only by our own will at the oars. We are impossibly charted to cross the sea-changes in a sea of small boats. All of us captains searching for lit beacons in the storm; looking for direction to a safe harbor. For a seamark buoy in the fog.
But revealed in the storm is the good work in the world to be done. Some are called to do it, some avoid it. Some are called simply to work, some by necessity, some by understanding the deep need of the world around them. Everyone knows that humanity is not perfect, yet some are compelled to make a difference. The work will never be done, but there are those who persevere.
Shortly now, after 7 months on-leave, Heather goes back to work. The good work she is compelled to do. But even in being compelled, being someone who works, and excels at making a difference, she faces fears.
The racing, the frantic paddling to keep ahead of the current. Not being able to do it all and do it all effortlessly perfect. Not being enough at any one thing. And now more than even that, the fear of leaving her baby and boys. The fear of loss, that some how she is abandoning them, the deep fear that she will miss out.
But as I sit across from her after dinner, and listen to her fears, I am unafraid. Unafraid for our family, for her or for our children.
I feel the rocking of our boat. I hear the storm howling outside and the fog closing in. I feel our sleeping children on the floors above us; we are spinning tops on the face of the earth.
Yet, at the quiet center there is the peaceful intimacy of our family. The imperfections, the confident love. The loss of innocence, the waking consciousness, the squeal of delight of a four-year-old making a 7-month old belly laugh. Macaroni and cheese after a long day, a warm bottle at 2 AM.
And in the intimacy of our family, there is the bittersweet realization that while things always, and inevitably change, our foundation is strong. And our connection, which we work so hard to nurture and maintain, is real. That while we will certainly miss things, and we will mourn what we miss, we are all richer when we grow with change then when we resist it.
That by embracing change, reveling in it, we are giving our children a tremendous gift; the gift of how to locate a buoy in the storm and how to get home.
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