On gardening & motherhood
I spend a large part of my day - though not nearly as much as I'd like - in my yard.
As mothers (elder millennial mothers, anyway) often do, I've been thinking about society and the environment collapsing. So (again, like many elder-millennial mothers) I’ve also been thinking about becoming a witch and turning my backyard into a homestead. I’m making strides: my flowers are doing well and my veggie bed is coming alive. My little girl and I carefully selected our seeds and pushed them into the soil, and are waiting and watching as the sprouts shoot up.
To me, nothing feels so good as getting my hands dirty while gardening - to plant a garden is an act of hope, after all. Still, I found myself weepy the past few weeks. I love motherhood and have never experienced such joy, but I've also never felt such sadness. I’m a deeply feeling person, and motherhood has exacerbated that. I have everything one could hope for - a safe home, these two gorgeous, healthy girls, a kind husband - but I remain disappointed and uneasy over the state of the world, and our country. Perhaps there's some postpartum depression mixed in there. But, women must keep moving along, and there’s no time for dwelling with a toddler and an infant who both need me.
Still, postpartum is an inherently hormonal and emotional time, and like many parents, I found connecting with my second child took a little while. I don’t love the baby any less than my toddler, but I’ve simply known and loved my elder longer - she’s more fleshed out in every way. And the baby, while very much her own bundle of being, interacts less. Though I’m still learning her personality and rhythms, she's coming alive right as my maternity leave winds down. Her smiles and coos are amazing to see and hear: This essay began as a voice memo, and Sami’s sweet little noises are in the background, distracting me as I try to write.
Unfortunately - like that of many other civil servants - my husband's employment is tenuous. Though he’ll land on his feet, his professional future is uncertain during a time when I’d love to be home with those coos and smiles for longer. Trusting someone else to care for your child - a teensy, tiny baby - is difficult, and the cost of childcare is simply insane, even for those who can bear it. I'm left in the same tug of war as so many other mothers: a desire to be at home with your children yet knowing that you can’t, likely for many, many reasons. The dilemma is expensive and multifaceted, and you're sacrificing either way: no matter what, you can't pay full attention to your family or your career.
In a recent post, @nicolejanehobbs wrote “ ‘It’ll have to do.’ This is what I keep finding myself saying lately … lowering the expectations we have of ourselves doesn’t mean we care any less. In many ways, it allows us to care more. When we allow imperfection, we create space for love, for rest, for joy.” Maybe from sheer exhaustion, I’m trying to adopt this outlook, and make more space for joy by allowing imperfection: Letting my toddler have a bits and bobs plate for dinner, not perfectly dressing my baby, leaving the clean laundry unfolded and in the basket. And, I’m trying to recognize that - like the plants in my garden - my emotions, my motherhood, and my career will all bloom in their own time, but likely not all at the same time.
There is a season for everything and that'll have to do.
A few side tirades - or siderades - if you will:
After birth, we had a baby nurse who helped us tremendously for several weeks. When I tried writing about her, I found myself apologizing for and justifying this level of support, which I came to realize is absurd. Postpartum support shouldn’t be a luxury. It’s woven into the fabric of other countries, and mind boggling that American women are expected to go through pregnancy and delivery, then care for a brand new human without significant societal help.
l honestly can’t f*ing believe people wonder why the birth rates are dropping when, in addition to the lack of postpartum support for both mothers and babies, American families are also made to foot the entire bill for childcare for half a decade per child.