Mommy update: 32+ years

I spent the first 20 months of Addison’s life trying to figure out why our transition to parenthood was so. darn. hard.  Traumatic, even.  Somewhere along the line I started joking that “we make parenthood look like a 10-car pile-up,” and a lot of days it felt 100% true.  On the surface, there are some obvious reasons: nine months of postpartum depression.  My pre-existing physical limitations.  Neal’s deep and abiding need for schedules, routine, and sleep, jeopardized at every turn by our little lady.  Still, those reasons (and many others) did not seem to explain just how completely having a child had altered and complicated our lives and relationship.

And then, on October 19, 2011, I had an epiphany.  Introverted mom + introverted dad = extroverted child = mental/emotional/relational chaos.  I know it was October 19th because I did some quick literature searches to see if this formula had been researched before.  Had anyone studied parents’ positions on the introversion/extraversion scale relative to each other and their child as predictors of successful transition to parenthood?  The short answer is that I could not find any on-point studies (but there is some evidence suggesting that introverted women struggle more with the transition to parenthood).

I have to note that a lot of people would not peg me as particularly introverted, mainly because I have a lot of friends, but trust me, I am.  I know this because (1) I’ve spent at least 25 years in near-constant self-analysis (only an introvert with too much time on her hands would do that craziness day in and day out); (2) the loudest voice in my head is always saying, “I just need time alone to reflect on . . . “; and (3) I took an online quiz: 70% introverted, baby!

Once I had this epiphany, and now that I’m recording it, I find it positively shocking that I didn’t realize the hugeness of this earlier.  Instead, I fixated on the concept of selfishness vs. selflessness.  Children require a lot of selflessness.  We’re struggling with having a child.  Ergo, we are selfish rather than selfless.  But that just did not compute because I know my own impulses, and without a doubt they tend toward helping, alleviating suffering, etc. even at some cost to myself.  And I know Neal, a guy who came to my aid on a daily basis when I was quite ill after we had been on only one date (that he did not even consider a date; he was a confused young man).  Oh sure, we have our selfish impulses like anyone but it just could not be the defining factor in our difficulty.

And it wasn’t.  Now that I’ve contemplated this introversion factor for the last several months, I see how fully it explains the struggles we were having.  We are two people who don’t just like, but need time alone to stay happy/functional/bearable.  And when you have a child, especially one with a seemingly-unquenchable desire for interaction, alone time is in short supply.  Our relationship worked seamlessly as a twosome because we always had time to be alone and together, but tag-team parenting made that impossible for awhile.

Mostly-relevant detour: Back in 2003, I started a year of volunteer service as an AmeriCorps VISTA.  This was full-time work with a just-above-poverty-level living allowance in not-so-cheap Washington, D. C.  I was having trouble making ends meet, so I did what was at that point the unthinkable: I applied to be a part-time, live-in babysitter to a toddler and newborn.  I quickly learned to love how completely in-the-moment young children are.  There is no yesterday or tomorrow, very little contemplation and no agonizing.  I needed a healthy dose of that in my life and it was truly refreshing . . . for a few hours a day.  But 8, 10, 12 hours a day with my own little babe — my brain, and often my mouth, were regularly protesting.  I need silence.  I need time to think.  I need time to situate this moment in the context of my life!  So October 19th was a great day, the day I finally realized there was no use framing this as a selfish/selfless issue.  The need for solitude is one of the most core things about me, present for as long as I can remember, even in seemingly-interminable nights of laying awake as an elementary-schooler “processing” life and the world.  That core has had to bend and shift with parenthood, but it just can’t or won’t be displaced no matter how much I adore my little girl.

I have to be honest, this was a harrowing lesson to learn in the midst of so many women who appeared genuinely enamored with motherhood and all its aspects.  Some women I met talked about their toddlers being among their best friends and some expressed how much they loved having a little appendage to do things with.  I really wanted to feel that way, but there was still that voice in my head screaming for solitude and silence.  And I especially didn’t feel that way during those crazy fall months when our formerly sweet girl was, ahem, a bit of a nutcase.  Which is one reason why it was more than a little frightening when at my conference in November, I had an impression and consequently made a decision that I was going to be a stay-at-home mom for awhile.  I mean, I already was a stay-at-home mom to a great extent (Neal and I are stay-at-home people from the get-go), but I was still undecided.  And that indecision was sort of liberating!  I picked out some PhD programs and thought about starting one in a year.  I almost applied for a job in San Francisco that was just tailor-made for someone with my background.  And I just generally assumed that I couldn’t do the stay-at-home mom thing for any great length of time.  Until November, when I changed my mind, and stopped thinking about all the other possibilities.

Phew.  So that was all just background (can you believe it?!).  Background to explain this shift I’ve experienced over the last couple of months.  I have always loved and adored Addison, but suddenly I love and adore the time I spend with her too.  She’s much easier now than she was six months ago.  And I love the developmental changes we are seeing almost daily.  And it’s good to be able to reason with her, to see that she is beginning to understand what is expected of her, and sometimes trying to comply.  And she’s starting to get that she has a “sick” mom that has to spend more time reclined than upright — sometimes she even sweetly kisses me and says “better” (though other times she yells an impatient “Wake! Wake!” in my face instead).  But I suspect the biggest factor is my new perspective: I’m all-in now as a stay-at-home mom.  I’m not thinking about ways to change the situation in six months or a year.  I’m fully invested in this configuration, at least until she starts school.  But I’m also acknowledging that my all-in requires ample alone time, and probably another stay-at-home parent to split the day with.  It’s a pretty tall order, but we’re slowly making it work.