As I’m reading the Thirty Chic Days series, I realize that as a reader of mostly non-fiction/self-help books, I definitely gravitate towards books written by women who aren’t parents.
At first I wondered if it was because it was an “escape from reality” type of thing, but it’s not. I love having kids! I’d love one or two more even, if we’re fortunate enough to have them. I don’t ever regret having kids even if family life can be chaotic, stressful, or exhausting at times. We all have those days.
The real reason is because for a long time, I subconsciously defined my worth through motherhood: if I was able to conceive and carry children easily, if I was able to breastfeed, how many kids I have, and whether or not I live up to the standard of the do-it-all-with-no-help mother (spoiler alert, I don’t!). I surrounded myself, on social media in particular–but to some extent in real life too–with women who were effectively “mommy martyrs” and sacrificed every ounce of energy to give their children the best.
Hear me out! As parents we’re called to place our children’s needs above our own (including their emotional needs–we’re on-call 24/7 to be present for those). But our needs should come before their wants, lest we teach them to martyr themselves in parenthood in the future.
Anyways, I did not realize how much motherhood had played into my self-image. I would go so far as to say it consumed my self-image; it became everything that was important or relevant about me, in my mind.
That isn’t healthy at all though. In 15 short years, my oldest will turn 18; he’ll be an adult quickly finishing the transition to independent human. While we always need our parents emotionally and for some physical help/support, it’s not the same as the days of diaper changes and cutting up dinner into little pieces. And my other kid (or kids, maybe) will follow him shortly thereafter.
I’ll be older then, in my 40s and out of my childbearing and raising years. And eventually Eric and I will be empty nesters; just us, probably moved into a smaller place, maybe with a pet (or two or three) to keep us company.
A couple of years ago, I considered that stage of life and shuddered. It was as if I couldn’t find any purpose in it; what would I be able to contribute to society then?
And that’s exactly what books written by older, childless women–like Fiona Ferris or Mireille Guilliano–remind me. As women, our worth isn’t defined at all by our ability or choice to have kids. There is so much we can contribute to the world regardless of whether we ever raise children.
It shocked me that my self-worth was so caught up in my kids. It’s a healthy step, for me and them, to separate the two, and to be able to look forward to life after littles even as I so enjoy raising them now. Having babies and little kids is a special, wonderful stage of life; but so are all the others in their own way.
And in light of that, it’s especially, especially, to maintain our self-care routines, relationships, hobbies, etc even though it can be difficult right now–ultimately, our bodies and minds are our homes for life, even as people enter and leave my physical space. So it’s absolutely necessary that we enjoy living there and tend to ourselves well.
xx Claire