A Journey Through Guilt

I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately. Probably partially because Mason has been feverish, and waking up with momentary screams, awakening that protective instinct in me. And I fall back to sleep and toss and turn until I jolt awake again. It’s the screams, and I suppose it’s stress too– a lot of things in my life have changed.

It’s days like today when I feel the weight of motherhood bearing down on me full-force. Sometimes it’s difficult to comprehend the impact that the decisions your make for your own life have on the life of your child. Hard to even believe that your choices mean so much.

My mother once said to me that motherhood is a journey filled with guilt. At the time, I thought that sounded very pessimistic, maybe even downright depressing. How right she was, though. I’m not too familiar with guilt as it’s never been something that particularly plagued me or made me anxious, but there have been many instances in my short experience as a mother where I’ve felt it seep in and start nagging in the back of my mind.

When I was at home with Mason all the time, guilt was like my middle name. I felt like I wasn’t doing enough…never mind the laundry or the dishes, I felt like I wasn’t doing enough for him. “Talk to him!” all the books said, “It’s good for him!” So I tried to talk out loud all day. But I kept running out of things to say. How many sentences can you possibly make up for someone who doesn’t, can’t, give any back? I felt constantly cooped up and crazed– loony tunes and talking into thin air.

When Mason became more responsive and playful, it was easier…and then I got the breathing room that I had been aching for. I got a job. And now the guilt comes from an entirely different place. Instead of spending almost every moment with my son, I now get maybe two hours before he’s off to sleep on weekdays. I walked into his daycare to pick him up and he was taking steps! I was so excited that I was there to see it…and then she told me that he had already been doing it for a few days, and she hadn’t told me because she wanted me to see it for myself. I was glad that she let me have that moment, but guilt began tugging at me. I should have been the first, I thought, I’m his Mommy.

But I suppose this is just the first step of the letting go that all parents have to do at some point. Eventually children grow up, and while they may always need you in some shape or form, they certainly don’t need you forever for everything. I will unfortunately miss many more firsts…it’s just the way it is.

So I appease my guilt-ridden brain by reminding myself of the good things. Like Mason’s smile when I walk into his daycare to pick him up, because he knows that I’ll always come back. Or his wild excitement when I chase him around the house. Or the idea that maybe he adores his blankie so much because it reminds him of home and makes him feel safe. Or the pride I feel in knowing that I’m raising a strong, smart little boy who hopefully, through his experiences in not having me by his side at every single moment, will be able to find happiness in his own ability to be independent when he needs to be.

The greatest gifts you can give your children are the roots of responsibility and the wings of independence. – Denis Waitley

kids…they grow like weeds!

Whenever I’ve heard people say, “Kids grow up so fast!” I’ve never believed them. Especially in the first two months after Mason was born. To me, time was going by so slowly. Each day was pretty much the same…the cycles of feeding, sleeping, diaper changing and playing were a little monotonous. Not to say that they were boring, but definitely repetitive. The days seemed to blur together into one big day, and only after a night of very good sleep did it feel like a new day began again. When Mason turned a month old, I felt like he’d been around forever already!

It was just last week that I felt like I’d turned my head away for a second and when I looked back Mason seemed so much older. I was a little taken aback. Where did this vocal, animate baby come from?

My son has learned how to do so many things. He makes all kinds of sounds– and there are different sounds for different moods, toys, and people. He coos at me after he eats, grunts when he gets frustrated, and practically yells when he’s overcome with excitement. He’s trying so hard to laugh, and is such a smiley little guy. This morning I caught him passing his toy from one hand to the other hand. A couple weeks ago he rolled from his tummy to his back, and now is trying desperately (and almost successfully) from his back to his tummy.

We layed in bed today when I was trying to get him down for a nap. Mason wasn’t quite ready to sleep yet, so I was just talking to him. Every time I would speak, he would look at me, pause for a second, and then make a noise back. By the time he quieted down and decided to roll on his side to go to sleep, I felt like I’d had a full-blown conversation. Even though he isn’t saying words, he’s so responsive that it actually feels like he knows what I’m saying sometimes.

How cool is that?

My biggest issue with staying home all day and all night by myself with Mason in the beginning was how lonely it was. The majority of the time he was sleeping, and when he wasn’t he was either crying, eating, or needing to be rocked to sleep. I was either trying to pass time while he slept, or stuck in one spot while he was awake. I felt a little trapped, and the lack of interaction with someone who could respond to me was stifling. I was resentful of being stuck in the house…resentful of being so tired without ever even stepping outside of our apartment.

So it’s really fun for me to take notice now of how much it’s changed since then. I’ve never considered Mason boring…I think when you have a newborn, even if they don’t do much, getting used to them being around is an amazing process in itself. But now, I would say that I DEFINITELY consider him a lot of fun. I really, really enjoy spending the night in with him while Jon is at work. I get to try out different toys and see what else he’s discovered for the day. And now, we can even have conversations even if all they really are is a bunch of nonsense.

The stay-at-home mom gig will never be my thing, I don’t think, but I can say wholeheartedly that I get a lot of joy out of quality time in my home– the same apartment that I used to wish myself out of. All thanks to a kid…he’s growing up so fast!

dad can push a stroller, too!

I recently read an article in Mothering magazine written by a new dad. He was talking about the attention that he gets when he goes out alone with his baby. People stare, and comment on what a wonderful dad he is to be taking out a baby all by himself. There were oohs and ahs over what a “cute daddy” he was…and then when his wife met up with him later, attention from passersby immediately shifted solely towards the baby.

He brought up another interesting thing: when his wife is out alone with their baby, she doesn’t get comments on how wonderful it is that she can take a baby on an outing by herself. She gets a lot of compliments on her beautiful child, but not the same oohs and ahs about her mothering as he does about his fathering.

That story really got me to thinking. And I realized that I do the same thing– when I see a dad out with his kid or kids, it always makes me smile. I think to myself, “What a great dad! His kids must really love that kind of time with him,” as if it’s something unusual. Yet I see mothers with their children all the time and, I’ll be honest, while it’s nice, it doesn’t necessarily cause me to smile out of the blue.

It’s sort of sad, really. A blog entry I read brought to light a good point…this kind of gushing over dads being able to take care of their children is demeaning in a way, to the dads. I think that although society has accepted that both parents are capable of taking care of children, it still seems to expect dads to fall short somehow. And when they don’t, it’s treated as some kind of marvel.

Jon has done anything but fall short when it comes to parenting. He changes diapers, does bottle feedings, plays with Mason (sometimes more effectively than me, I might add!), and soothes him when he’s upset. He knows Mason’s bedtime routine, and legitimately enjoys giving him baths. Jon is active in almost every single way that I am in being a parent to Mason, and he has to be because I’m not always around. These aren’t things he does as a favor to me, or to “go above and beyond” — he does them because he is Mason’s dad. I think that if I didn’t expect anything from him at all and marveled at the things he did do, it would be condescending and offensive. I mean, hey, if he treated all of my mothering skills as some sort of big surprise, as if he never thought I would be able to do them, I would be offended too!

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think that dads shouldn’t be complimented. It’s just that I think they shouldn’t be expected to be ignorant to parenting skills, in the same way that I don’t think mothers should be expected to know everything about babies. The role of Dad is an evolving one, and I think the ideas behind what a father should be are something a lot different than what they used to be.

 Yes, deadbeat dads (and deadbeat moms, too) or dads that remain uninvolved will always exist, but there is a recognizable new “Dad” out there now who deserves to be treated with the same respect as all of us Moms…and he’s anything but clueless!