Sometimes I have to remind myself of things I do, and why I do them. I do a lot. More than I should. I teach six classes, manage ten independent study students, advise four extra curricular activities, and chair the English department. I am raising two boys the best that I can, and co-managing a household with my co-navigator. I make play dates and mama dates, and sometimes I sit in front of the tv, and sometimes I write. Sometimes I host parties, and sometimes I think of a project too big to manage. And sometimes, well, not sometimes, actually, more like currently, I sit on the Board of Directors for MotherWoman. Read the rest of this entry
So for 253 days I blogged every day – okay every day but four. And then Monday, Monday I went to bed at 8pm, and then again on Tuesday, and then it had been two days of skipping school work, so Wednesday I was grading, and Thursday I had my first board meeting for MotherWoman, and Friday we went shopping, and then it was today, and it had been nearly a week since I had written. And it’s not that I don’t have anything to write, it’s just it’s all muddled. Politics, and mommying, and family stuff, and valley stuff, and working versus staying home, and thoughts about my pre-frontal cortex, it’s all wrapped up in a semi-neurotic tangle of words and sentences and half done paragraphs.
I have a line about my gramma, and a paragraph at being a work out of the home mama, and how that is only possible, because I have the most amazing co-parenting dad around, who happens to be my husband. I have an acronym about my pre-frontal cortex, and three syllables about MotherWoman. And oh politics, I could give you seven pages, but I’ve found that bat-shit crazy just about covers it all.
When I started out committing to write every day -it was partly a challenge and partly an exercise in sanity. And while it would be great to get to 365, and hell, I didn’t think I would get to 30, I’ve been thinking more about what I want this spot to be, and I don’t want to write just to get something on the page. Further, I don’t want to resent this space, or even writing. So yah, I might have fewer posts, but perhaps not less to say.
grey. a bit of snow, a bit of sun. temperature at 11:18pm, 33°
Expectations are just resentments under construction. – Anne Lamont
Mix in expectations with a toddler who never stops, and an infant who doesn’t sleep – liberally sprinkle in a pre-existing anxiety problem and bam – a sweet case of postpartum depression.
I’ve said that d-word just five or six times now. And the thing is, I talk a lot, (here, many of you who know me, smile, nod your head, and think I’m understating it). But as a friend pointed out the other night, I’ve kept this one pretty close to my chest.
I probably wouldn’t be saying it here and now, if it weren’t for my mug being all over the local news tonight. Keegan and I were on all but one of the local networks at a press conference for MotherWoman.
MotherWoman is an incredible organization here in the Valley doing good work for women in the postpartum period and beyond. Right now they’re working on advocating for a piece of legislation that would provide for screening for all pregnant and new mamas.
So – today I was brave, and after my group, I stayed around in solidarity with the women telling their stories to the press.
After today, I probably won’t want to talk about this again. But now, I’ll tell you, I wish there was a place outside of my group, where women could talk about what motherhood really looks like without being concerned with the judgments of others. But the reality is –there’s a heavy burden to abide by the myth of the good mother, and when we deviate from that myth, judgement is passed readily and quickly – I know, because I’ve been ever so guilty of passing it.
And oh the stigma, real or imagined, to admit that in mothering, you’ve been deficient. That stigma is what keeps me from speaking out-loud – except for this moment –
Tomorrow, MotherWoman travels to Boston to further support the legislation. I send with them brave thoughts and loud voices, and hope- so that the next mama sitting where I am, won’t ever feel judged, or any less than she is.