Usually, little A sleeps straight through the night from 7pm to between 6 and 7am. (I know, we’re lucky! Both my kids have slept through the night by 6/7 months.)
But last night, he woke up at 9:30pm with a very wet diaper. Then, he was upset because he was wide awake. So I brought our nightlight into the nursery and nursed him in the rocking chair until he fell asleep. Then I just rocked him as he slept for a while.
It was so peaceful. Just rocking in glider by the nightlight, listening to the crickets outside, holding a warm, sleeping baby. One of those moments where everything is right in the world for a bit, and you wish you could just stay there in that beautiful space for a lot longer.
You know, for most of my teenage and young adult years–until I was 22 and caught baby fever–settling down and starting a family was not appealing to me.
When I was little, the prospect of giving birth was pretty horrifying! Then as a teenager, one of my greatest fears was pregnancy (never mind that I didn’t even have a boyfriend until Eric, haha. #tbt to when I thought you could get pregnant from flushing a public toilet…). Because it would be shameful. And as a young adult, I thought my career should be the purpose of my life, and I constantly felt stressed out and saddened by the fact that I hadn’t “found my passion” in a job. Moms were boring people to me.
I am so very glad I listened to the instinct that kicked in at 22 that said: screw all of that. Plan your wedding, save for a house, and have a baby. I didn’t know how we’d afford anything beyond our share of the wedding at that point, paying more in Bay Area rent than we do for our mortgage now–but providence saw us through.
I think it’s rather sad that “women should have a choice” has somewhat morphed into “every woman should prove that she’s able to do what was traditionally a man’s work (outside the home).” At least, that’s what the culture that I grew up in, impressed upon me.
How sad when things that only a woman can do–pregnancy, childbirth, and nursing–are things that invoke dread in young women. That are viewed by them as foreign, frightening, disgusting, or weak.
And I’m not here to condemn women who don’t want to do those things, now or ever. I don’t understand how a career outside the home could be more appealing, but precisely because I don’t understand it (beyond the logistical reasons), I would never condemn it. I think that’s the definition of ignorance, to presume to know and judge something that you don’t understand.
What I am sure of, in moments like last night, is this: There is absolutely nothing in my life that I could be doing right now, that’s more worthy of my time and attention, than raising my kids. Anything else I’ve accomplished in my life–test scores, college acceptance letters, Latin honors, hiking mountains, running races, publishing articles–the pride or happiness all completely pales in comparison, to the contentment in moments like last night.
I don’t do it perfectly. I wish I had more support and company every day. But I believe my motherly instinct exists for a reason, and I’m ever so glad I listened to that calling and became who I was meant to be.