How becoming a Mom changed who I was
Running into a former colleague last week, we began to catch-up the last 3 years in 5 minutes, as one might in a chance encounter. But we quickly stopped the high-level recounting of milestones when we connected on how becoming a mother changed our priorities.
Now each with two kids we both find that it is simply not possible to go on with life as we had before. She adopted two children internationally and thereby brought into her life some complex emotional issues common to children who have spent time in orphanages. She now spends a great deal of energy learning about her kids and helping them grow as secure, well adjusted people.
Knowing me as a business person, she was fascinated to hear that becoming someone’s mother stopped me in my career tracks — I simply could not do things as I had always done. I felt different than the women I encountered during my pregnancy for my inability to see my pregnancy through the lens of “having a baby”. To me it was so much more.
My midwife Bridget helped to plant the seed that mothering is a verb; it’s an active role which I see overriding the other roles I inhabit. It was suddenly more important than my responsibilities at work, more important than any other relationship in my life (although my marriage shares the highest peak).
This floored me, it scared me and the fear sat in the middle of my chest for months before my daughter was born.
Wouldn’t becoming a mother mean that I would become a second-stringer at work? I could not imagine being at all happy without striving for more challenge at work; I could not envision my career without progression or even slower progression. I’d be bored, I’d be out of the “in-the-know” set at work. I’d be seen as a women who wasn’t committed to the organization. Putting my child before my career seemed to directly contravene my mother’s edict that women must have a career and be able to support themselves.
I felt butterflies in my stomach every time I considered the inevitability of this predicament. It was only a matter of time before these fears were a reality because in my gut, I could not imagine prioritizing work over my child. It scared me and possessed me at the same time. My inner voice was whispering that a change was coming, but my conscious self was not ready to absorb the message. It was just too scary.
I got a glimpse of this reality near the end of my first pregnancy when I was preparing to leave for my maternity leave. I avoided nailing down my return date, preferring to say I’d come back when the baby was ready. I felt sneaky and dishonest, but the truth was that I didn’t know when I’d be ready to come back. I knew only that it would not be as early as the 6 week average for women at my level in my organization.
I had a 3 weeks to wander around thinking about this big transition to motherhood before my daughter’s birth. I didn’t spend the time fluffing the nursery or shopping for clothes. I spent it wondering what my baby would need from me. I wondered how I would cope with meeting her every need 24/7 without near-by family to lend a hand. I dreamed of breastfeeding, never wondering if it would fail but imagining what my babe would get through the experience in addition to the nutrients. What connection, genetic information or emotional care would she drink-up?
More than anything, I think I was moving in slow motion with the reality that I was becoming her mother — her point of departure into the world, the voice inside her head giving her guidance, her primary role model, her nurturer and her number one fan. I wanted to be everything she would ever need in a mother and with the commitment, every plan I’d had for myself got shelved for later realization. I was going to leave the field open for her to call the shots.
Talk about letting go. I was gone… for her.