Jogging in Neverland
Two of my favorite women on earth recently gave birth to their first babies. Both women are strong, independent and intelligent. Both have journeyed far in pursuit of their hopes, dreams and ambitions. And both of them seem markedly different since becoming mothers, as if they have moved into a parallel universe called parenthood, while Peter and the rest of us kids are still jogging around Neverland waiting to sprout our donkey ears.
As a best friend, aunt and observer of life, I am the one lacing up my running shoes, wondering what kind of food they served on that Mommy boat I missed, jogging alone in the state of childlessness. Wow, it’s really fun here… I can buy cool stuff like metallic gold eyeliner. I have time to put it on and places to go where I can wear it. But as I jog around and around until my calf muscles merit “hot mama!” praise from Captain Hook, I can’t help but wonder: Do mothers experience a uniquely transforming experience, a trial-by-fire initiation into a level of maturity only a mother can achieve?
Moms? Are you reading me? I need some answers here. For starters, after courageously taking those risks that made you strong and independent, are you now, as it appears from back here in Neverland, completely surrendering your hearts and souls to nurturing your babies? If the answer is yes, does it make you feel connected to the universe by the same long, genetic string that puts sparkle into the stars? Or, (maybe and/or) do you understand why Andrea Yates woke up one morning, made her husband’s lunch and kissed him goodbye as he left for work, then filled the bathtub and methodically ran down all five of her babies?
Moms, now that you no longer are going on auditions, winning awards, slaying dragons, wearing hot pants and looking good in them, do you still know who you are? Are you proud of yourselves?
Alice Walker says that childbirth is heroic and all mothers are heroes. “Look around,” Ms. Walker says. “Every person you see entered this world through a woman’s body.”
Neverland pales.
posted by Yakpate at 3:31 PM
6 Comments:
being loved and needed so totally, unabashedly, purely and unconditionally allows a mother to put herself completely aside for another, even temporarily.... I believe that brings grace
6:18 PM
I can’t speak for all mothers, but since I had a baby at 40, I feel like I’ve seen both worlds. And let me tell you – although I wouldn’t trade my daughter for anything, Neverland most certainly does NOT pale in comparison. Please… after a year of spit-up, clogged milk ducts, teething, post-partum hormone fluctuations, virtually never sleeping more than 4 hours at a stretch (on good nights) and watching my former rocket body turn into something that needs to be hidden under a caftan– Neverland looks pretty awesome from here.
There is a weird tendency in many women to glorify the path they’ve chosen while disparaging the path other women have taken, as if there is some one-size-fits-all costume for every female. On the same token, there is a tendency to secretly wonder, no matter what lifestyle you have chosen, if the grass is greener on the other side. I know that when I didn’t have children, I often thought that maybe my life was missing some essential developmental element – that maybe I was perennially post-adolescent due to the fact that I didn’t have the responsibility of children. That by not becoming a mom, I would never have the key to the Exectutive Women’s Room. Well, now that I have the key, I can tell you that the bathroom is nice but it sure as hell doesn’t live up to the hype.
I adore my child – but motherhood is a bitch. My friend Karen and I marvel at how much women lie about motherhood. You don’t just magically fall in love with your baby upon her entrance into the world while simultaneously adapting to a complete cessation of all higher cognitive function. According to the spin, we’re all supposed to just fall merrily into a role that even on good days feels kind of like a slave. Instead, you go into a kind of shock. And when the shock wears off, you go into a kind of depression. And when that wears off, you realize that motherhood is back-breakingly hard and thankless – not rose-scented and lit like a Lifetime Movie of the Week. You miss your old life. You dream about it. But you also realize that it doesn’t fit you anymore – like it or not, you’ve outgrown your old self and you just have to figure out how to fit into the new costume. You find that you absolutely achingly heart-breakingly love that little monster with every fiber of your tired-ass soul and that the magnitude of your love is so fucking scary you want to hide under the bed. You realize that it will be perhaps decades before you can actually hide under the bed without making sure that your child is safe/fed/warm/out of reach of choking hazards. You wonder at least once a day if you made the right decision. You no longer sleep more than a few hours at a stretch and you want to strangle all childless friends who dare utter the words “I’m tired.” You find that it gets easier. You wonder who you’re morphing into next. You realize that like it or not, this experience has someone in the driver’s seat other than YOU. Which is weird, especially if you were used to blazing your own trail and making your own decisions.
For me, becoming a mother has shown me that life doesn’t stand still, no matter how much retinol I put on my skin or how cute I still look in clothes from Forever 21. It has forced (FORCED!) me into a role of full-time service to another person – which I believe has made me a little wiser than I was before. I don’t think you need to have children to make this realization – but it’s what did it for me.
I no longer feel like a Maiden – the archetype I maxed out for so many years and would happily still embody if I had not given birth. The archetype of Mother is so different. You realize that you are responsible for the very life of someone else – an innocent, perfect little critter who deserves a fabulous childhood and a shot at the brass ring that you held onto for so long. It’s not that motherhood erases your dreams but it definitely puts them on hold and possibly packed away -- especially if those dreams included things outside a home and family. Maybe it’s different for the women who never wanted any other career outside motherhood. One thing I’ve learned is that you CAN’T have it all without some aspect falling behind. At least not with a very small child. For me, I am unwilling to put my daughter in day care to give me the hours I need to work as a professional writer. It’s just not right for us. That means I won’t really get back to any serious work until she’s in pre-school (and that supposes I only have one child) which makes me wonder: will I have a career to come back to then? I don’t know. It’s a gamble I would never have made if I’d chosen a life without children.
I think of my old life as a kind of mad carnival of possibility – one endless Easter Egg hunt that included wildly exciting discoveries and, admittedly, a lot of rotten eggs. This life is more repetitive, more serious, more like one of those classes that at first you think will bore you to tears but, if you pay attention, as the semester progresses you realize is teaching you some truly mind-blowing lessons. I’m grateful for the experience of nurturing my little girl. She’s such a wonder to me. It’s an awesome responsibility, though – and I have days that I ache for the freedom I used to take for granted. On the other hand, being in this kind of servile position has also made me appreciate free time. That shit is gold now. There is absolutely no way I could ever be bored ever again as long as I live because I now know the value of a few hours just to myself.
I know one thing for certain… I will never be one of those women who says “nothing I ever did mattered before having my baby.” That’s just bullshit. Everything I did mattered … with the exception of wearing 80s fashion and indulging in a few too many relationships with musicians. I want my daughter to grow up knowing that whatever choice she makes – to become a mother or not become a mother – is the right one. Each path is valid. In each path there is beauty and wisdom.
11:18 PM
......add another fat globule on the hound dog's blood tick. You did it again, Pat. You moved this ol' girl. I'll try not to make this my life story. It's hard for me to encapsulate motherhood, having known it well, twice, also grandmotherhood. And then I had to know widowhood. I loved baby dolls at a young age and I watched the family happenings back in a time when doctors made house calls and once they were there all they could do was tell Mother to sit with her child until the crisis passed...or her child passed. My mother knew the latter and she never recovered. That kind of says it in a nutshell.
I thought motherhood would escape me but I came into full bloom after seven years of waiting with the most gorgeous man I had ever seen. This dimpled darling arrived with the dark curls and slept at 20 minute intervals. I looked anorexic from lack of sleep at a time when that word didn't exist. Eleven years later it happened again and though my husband had had a heart attack ten days prior to my second baby's birth, by the grace of God, some higher being, or The Great Spirit and all of his deciples, a willing loan officer at the bank, neighbors that I didn't even know and my beautiful newborn absolutely perfect angel child.....we made it. It was a time when the tough had to keep going. There was no other choice. And a sense of humor always helps.
My indomitable spirit let me imagine metallic gold eyeliner,(or was it blue??) which I later got to apply as a torch singer, paint pictures (and people bought them.)At times I worked on a pastel portrait with a live model taking time out to change a diaper. During those early Mommy years I could be seen with a fork turning fried chicken with one hand and a paintbrush in the other as I dabbed on a canvas resting on an easel nearby. In looking back, those baby years passed so quickly. One doesn't realize it at the time. Later on I worked for a time in a boutique and wrote copy and did ad pictures for magazines.
I got to see my children follow their creative dreams with me cheering them on. Meantime I was able to dabble at writing, work with silk flowers, do photography and sing before a live audience.
I jogged along my childrens' Neverland and never felt thwarted in my own endeavers. But motherhood is not an end-all, be all and not for sissies. It is a lot of hard work, especially endlessly washing diapers, hanging them on a clothesline, as was the way it was for me. Seeing my children grow into beautiful mature women with talents of their own...it is frosting on the cake.
It is sad that Andrea Yates didn't have help for herself and with all of those children. Who knows what they may have become given the chance?
I wouldn't call motherhood a transforming experience but definitely an experience. Can I compare it to climbing the Matterhorn because once you get started there is no turning back? And when you reach the top you can truthfully say, "I made it!"
I dusted and cleaned to music, made dresses and costumes far into the night, was the most outlandish room mother, made it through teen years, lived to see my children become beautiful adults with children of their own. Together we still laugh. This is what we all aspire to do, as mothers. We also share many of the same vocations and avocations.
Despite the hard times it is the laughter that I hear in the still of the night. Even though I think I still sleep with one eye open..... a habit that all mothers learn early on.
I have lived long enough to still win some awards, some applause and if it weren't for varicosity I might just fall a little short of cut-offs instead of wearing what is supposed to be de regueur for those of my ilk... red hats and purple. Getting through the hard times was just that: getting through the hard times. But having become a mother didn't allow me to "put sparkle into the stars," but the child in me can still lie on my back in the grass and look up and be dazzled by the sparkle that the stars give to me.
The worries, trials, tribulations, through it all, I would still do it again. And yes, I still know who I am.
9:32 PM
What a big subject...I'm 45, haven't had kids but became a stepmom several years ago.My experience of parenting from a step position has confirmed for me what I have always felt: there's no way I could or would want my own. My two step sons are college age and they are fantastic human beings.
But, no matter... I see the fact of living, developing and growing from infancy into adulthood as a mostly agonizing process that is sometimes relieved by joyous events, circumstances, people, good movies, good writing, good art, and double chocolate fudge brownie ice cream. Why would I want to put an adorable little helpless being through such a trial as living on this planet during the next 90 some years??
From what I see of parents raising children it is endless work and worry and yes, absolutely thankless for a long, long time. As strongly negative as I feel about my not wanting to partake in this very strange habit of reproduction, I say in all honesty I think all you parents out there are supremely admirable, courageous and possibly a little nuts for voluntarily taking on a half life at least, of servitude with NO guarantee of outcome on your investment.
On the suject of love, I think love is essential for living a happy and fulfilling life.
I would never argue about the awesome bonds of love that a parent has for their child. I just don't feel I need or want that kind of love. I have a deep and rewarding love with my husband. It is a productive love...It makes me a better person in the world, in a similar way that parents are thought to be better people because of the trials they endure, the fires they put out and the endless sacrifices they make by having children.
10:23 PM
I dont think surrendering your heart and souls makes you less independent or strong. If fact, it takes a far more courageous person to surrender that than to keep it all to themselves. That does not exclude women just because they dont have kids. I know this because my aunt did the same thing when my sister and I were born. I have a best friend who surrenders her heart and soul to her friends and, as silly as this may sound, her dog. So yes, having kids is a momentous life changing,unimaginable, wonderful,glorious experience that cannot be compared to anything. However, you dont have to have kids to love and be loved!!!!
8:53 AM
I am one of the mothers you are talking about and I have to say that my dreams have always been to follow my heart, which led me to an angel (my husband) and then to another angel (my son) and once again AND I cant believe how flipping lucky I am another angel (my second unborn child)...so I don't feel I have given up anything...because my dreams were not to become famous, or look good in hot pants, my dreams (no matter how I went about trying to fulfill them) were to find love....and I did....and I can't believe I was soo incredibly lucky not only to find it once, but twice and getting ready to embark on it the third time....its all the things love is cracked up to be, wonderful, scary, adventourous, heartbreaking, exciting. I think you can find love in all sorts of places - whether it be with a soul mate, your kids, your siblings, your friends...you just have to be willing to take the good with the bad and allow it all in.
9:48 AM
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