I had a conversation with a friend recently. She indicated how much she intends to tell you about motherhood on the Internet What you need to know that no one has told you yet. I am sure that I have clicked on any and all articles that promise such a thing to prepare for the birth of my first son, three and a half years ago. I’m sure I’ve also clicked multiple times during this time period.
Incredibly, I read very little about labor and delivery in the mental clarity while actually giving birth. In fact, the proliferation of nap training and breastfeeding tips didn’t make me an expert when it came to those things. People say it will be difficult; but it was harder than the word “difficult” could conjure up in my imagination. People say it will be good; but it’s better than the word “good” can grasp.
What You Can’t Know
The thing (my friend and I realized during our conversation) about preparing for something you’ve never done before — and something unlike almost anything else you’ll ever do, for until you do that — there’s nowhere to have that information “stick” in your brain. We (or at least I) learn by connecting new information with what we already know. We need some master category so that the data points can be organized (and internalized) according to it. But as someone who studied theology and philosophy during college and university, let me tell you: there are times when language and logic fall short, where the mind doesn’t have enough work. tools to understand some impossibility of reality; There are times when we don’t know the depth of the water until we get to the dock and dive in. There are times when genres emerge only when immersed in a new experience, not a second earlier. There are times when we turn to poetry, music and metaphor; In time we cannot keep wisdom without wading into those waters.
If you’re mentally preparing for a season that you can’t fully prepare for or can’t fully understand before going into it, I have no advice for you. Because the thing that touched me the most in the first season of new motherhood (and the things that moved me during the first days of heartbreak and the first months of our marriage) were never on the list I found. . The only real recommendation I have is to import it. This reflection cannot serve someone who does not yet know what is to come; it’s to encourage those who’ve waded through to wonder what they might know that they didn’t know before.
Lost my inner life
My first postpartum season caught me, I suspect it caught everyone, completely and completely caught off guard. I can’t even muster the bandwidth to do the monthly-standard-yearly photo updates, where a baby in a serene position is placed (first lying, then upright) next to a baby. stuffed animal that gradually dominates in size. Reader, I tried. But the 5th will come every month and I’ll find no clean cute sweaters, no calm time between naps and feedings, I won’t expend any energy that I have to stage a photo session when I could instead use those minutes to rest more.
I recall clearly feeling that I had lost access to my own inner voice, the space of silence and stillness that seemed most available, most accessible, when I was not completely overwhelmed. .
So many people, even new mothers, talk and warn about what we “lose” in the first few days after giving birth: time, sleep, control of bodily functions, feelings sense of self-control, adult conversation (and related, a brain capable of adult conversation rather than tiresome babble), preferences, habits, bathing opportunities continuity — and more. But one of the most striking things that I felt I had lost (and no one warned me about) was my sense of self-doubt. I recall clearly feeling that I had lost access to my own inner voice, the space of silence and stillness that seemed most available, most accessible, when I was not completely overwhelmed. .
Instead of low self-esteem, I feel like my whole life — the whole self—Fully and powerfully externalized. Everything revolves around eating, cleaning, nursing, washing, rocking, watching, finally showering, finally sleeping – meeting the extreme physical needs and embodiment of two living human beings. tired. Honestly, I don’t even want my inner life back. I don’t long for something I’ve long associated with “depth” or personality. I don’t want to read, write, or chat widely with my friends because, when I try them, they just don’t seem right to me anymore. I don’t have that power, and I don’t lament. My life was turned upside down, and so was myself inside and out.
I remember thinking to myself, good, okay. I guess the creative and generous season of my life is over. I hope I have honored that season well, and I hope I will receive the next award gracefully.
Back to myself
Now I know that introspection and creativity return. And in my experience, when it comes back, it’s better, deeper, and richer for having spent a lot more creative energy creating and sustaining life than working in abstractions. .
Let me tell you what I mean. I wrote this in an email to a writing mentor shortly after my son’s second birthday:
Many things that have been swirling around for the past five years suddenly seem to be clearly connected, and now I can finally see the connection and connection I’ve been feeling for so long. . I suspect that this radiance is in part due to how my voice, style, and sensibilities have changed since the ravages of my identity were ravaged by pregnancy, childbirth, and absolute existence of postnatal life. I think I’ve liberated the notion of creativity as a matter of output and realized that there’s a grit to simply moving the world with a thousand concerns, priorities, motivations. and separate relationship to navigation; I’ve found that packing a good diaper bag for a day away from home requires creativity as overflowing as there is no written prompt in me. Now when I sit at my computer or notebook to write, I feel rather than think. I feel I’m coming back to myself, but more or better or anything elseand it’s so cute.
Book
All of this has to do with movement, this month’s theme at W&D? That’s now I know to expect loss, to expect immobility of a certain kind (between the hustle and bustle of reality that constantly embodies) for life in that postnatal space. As I count down the weeks until June, when my second son is due to be born, I anticipate – but fear not – a severe disconnection from a part of myself I hold dear. And I also predict that part of me will return, and she will also be training and stretching this season.
This time around, I didn’t prepare for birth by consulting infant registers and breastfeeding books. Instead, to prepare for my second son and the second season after giving birth, I Treat yourself to a mini retreat. Three nights and two days at the family chalet – nothing difficult to coordinate. My plan is not to start going to bed first (as if it were possible) or to relax before the chaos. No facials or massages or honeymoons. There will be walking, books and writing. My plan is to leave myself some tidbits, some clues, about the goals and creative ideas and motivations that I have right now that I can very well (and with good reason) will forget or neglect next June.
My plan is to leave myself some tidbits, some clues, about the goals and creative ideas and motivations that I have right now that I can very well (and with good reason) will forget or neglect next June.
When the time came for that creative movement again, when the postpartum fog started to rise, I wanted to meet myself there. I want to spend my time now, not relearning the methods of wrapping and swaying—which will come back as muscle memory regardless of reading first—but preparing future Ellen, who I know to return inland life-hungry when she can finally.
Ellen enjoys reading and writing and considers the habit of staying at home a virtue. She holds a Master’s degree in religion from Yale and works as a writer & chief editor at a research institute that specializes in the inner and outer lives of young people. She has a tree, a tattoo, a baby and an identical twin. Contrary to all common sense, she frequently brings up both religion and politics at the dinner table.
