Up until last fall, I led a pretty selfish existence. A happy, meaningful existence, but a self-centered one all the same. Blame it on being an only child or just consider it part of the human condition, but my pre-baby life revolved mostly around my needs, my wants and my whims.
Then my son landed on the scene, and ever since, that self-centeredness of mine has been under relentless attack. (Veteran moms, feel free to have a knowing laugh at this rookie’s expense). Day by day, his very existence chips away at the hard pebble of pride all-too lodged in my heart. It’s an amazing thing.
Exhibit A. Luke was scheduled to arrive in mid-to-late October, and that was fine by me. It was an ideal, convenient due date for control-freak me. Maternity leave was going to cover Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s. Could I have planned this any better? I would quickly bounce back from my natural birth, glowing and all earth mother-ish, and we’d be at the pumpkin patch taking pictures with our little pumpkin in no time.
Well, it turns out the little pumpkin came as soon as the calendar flipped to September. Mr. Pumpkin apparently didn’t get the arrival memo. Despite a life-threatening pregnancy complication and emergency C-section, Luke and I came out healthy. By the grace of God. Looking back, I realize this was the first dramatic instance of my plans being thrown out the window—the first of many.
It’s equally trite and true: it’s no longer about me. I now have a second full-time job at Luke Weller, Inc., and let me tell you, this boss is a taskmaster! His demands regularly conflict with my plans and preconceived ideas. Some everyday examples:
• Fork mid-air, ready to enjoy a hot meal at the end of a long day at work? This is obviously when Luke will suddenly wake up, starving and/or requiring an immediate diaper change.
• During my family’s annual week at the beach, I used to spend my days moving from pool to beach and beach to pool, lounging with a book in one hand and a cold soda in the other. No longer. When Luke came to the beach earlier this month, it was a delightful, memorable visit, but it was not a vacation as previously defined.
• Some days I try to look especially put together for work. The operative word here is “try.” Inevitably, though, these are the days when Luke is extra spitty or finds my hair particularly irresistible to grab.
• This weekend, we’re attending a wedding. In my past life, I liked to take it all in at weddings: the details, the décor, the dancing. I foresee having only one point of observation on Saturday: keeping Luke entertained. Don’t ask me what color the bridesmaids’ dresses were on Sunday; I won’t know.
Whining? A little. #FirstWorldProblems? Oh, definitely. But I consider this more of a vent, an honest processing of a new reality. I’m still adjusting to a forever-changed identity. Everything is different, and the immature girl that sometimes still chatters in my brain has a hard time letting go of her Sarah-centric agenda.
Putting these thoughts on paper makes me feel like my Mom card should be revoked. The mommy guilt that is all over the blogosphere creeps in. Am I alone out here?Experienced moms, can you remember those instances when you were confronted with your own self-centeredness?
The bad news is it makes you feel like a terrible human being for the moment. You think, Really? I prefer a lazy afternoon by myself to spending time with this miraculous little person? Are you kidding me?! Or, Is this dry-cleaned blouse smeared with fresh drool really worth my frustration? Of course not!
But there is good news I’ve found in all this–a silver lining to this internal struggle. In the end, after that momentary tug-of-war with my pre-baby self, I make the right choice. I choose his giggles, messes and slobbery kisses. I even choose his unpredictable nap schedule. I choose love over lesser comforts like hot food and clean clothes. Those things lose their luster in comparison to the eternal impact I can have on my son’s sense of self when I take a deep breath and give of myself versus think of myself. I resist the tempting call of ease for a calling of joy that can’t be denied; it’s called motherhood.
It is a new road for me, and, oh dear, it is bumpy. After all, loving a person well can be the hardest thing ever. As iron sharpens iron, so one person refines another, revealing old weaknesses and bringing forth new strengths. Turns out, people under 30 pounds are really good at this.
With time, I can feel that hard little stone of selfishness getting smaller and softer. And I am grateful.
Sarah Weller 