(written 7/21)
Time is moving faster these days. I quit my job June 1, and I have been home full-time with Peter for the summer. This has been a beautiful time watching him grow, and getting to know him really well. He is such a unique special little boy, and I feel super privileged to watch him grow up. That being said, I have 1000% felt an unrest in my soul about being home full-time. It’s a strange dichotomy “full time SAHM” vs “full time working mother” and the communities that envelope them. I have felt out of place in both worlds. When I was working full-time, even some weekends, I found myself longing for more time with Peter and a strong jealousy towards moms who could stay home with their kids. When I left my job (for various unrelated reasons) I found myself yearning for work again. I would say things like “I’m in transition- I will be back at work soon,” to appease my working-mom friends, and hiding the fact that I put my child in (insert horror) DAYCARE for a year.
I’m constantly defending my decisions by either hiding aspects of my life, or embellishing others. Why is that? I have talked with several other mom-friends who have felt this same way. It’s this odd sense of not belonging somewhere, not fitting in. Now- I can say that I am a born creative, artist, and I need to be in a creative job to feel whole and fulfilled. This was hard during the pandemic. Not only was I unable to work in a creative field (because it was all shut down) but I couldn’t meet other creatives, or join anything. That drilled a deep hole. A hole that can only be filled by creative work.
As I put together my schedule for the year, I piece together a part-time teaching schedule where I can create and teach and feel a balance finally returning. A balance I haven’t felt since before Peter was born.
Here’s the thing: When you become a parent, the primary care-giver, whoever that is, ends up shelving themselves for a while. This sense of self that I once possessed dwindled as I poured all of myself into this tiny human. Emotionally, physically, and intellectually- every ounce of me is poured into Peter. It goes without saying, I love him to pieces, but I also love the creative person that God made me to be. That balance, that tenuous space between self and selfless has to be reclaimed (at least for me.) If I lose myself, what type of role model am I really being for Pete?
Twice Dutch 