Check it out- This morning I climbed on my bicycle and attended a yoga class. Afterwards, I pedaled the long way home around Green Lake.
I realize this is the most boring start to a blog post and I have surely lost a few people already. If you are still with me, allow me to explain why these events are so significant.
Normally, at 8:30am, I’m still in pajamas. I’m probably attached to a machine that makes me feel like a stock animal as it noisily extracts liquid gold from my milk jugs. Ruby is crying on the floor. She is practicing tummy time, which really pisses her off. NPR streams as I try to stay a(breast!) on world crises and ludicrous statements by Donald Trump. My mug of coffee rests, growing cold before I drink half of it. When I finally get myself together for the day and Ruby’s had a nap and nursed again, I load up the diaper bag. I double check for spare outfits (I learned the hard way when there was an emergency shopping event for a new onesie). Now we can leave the house! But then… there’s a thunderous blowout requiring deep cleaning and new clothes. Back to square one.
Being a new mom has reconstructed my calendar. I used to fill a day bicycling around picking up groceries, wandering the library, baking a cake and sweeping the floor then writing about it. In present day, I am shocked at how few hours there are in a day. The amount of time a tiny being commandeers is astounding. I find myself torn between washing the last of the breakfast dishes and picking up Ruby as she whimpers in her crib. A constant gnawing feeling that nothing is getting done resides in my gut. This self inflicted weight causes my confidence to waiver, like I’m not contributing enough. Like I am not enough.
Sometimes I am frustrated and resentful. I mourn the loss of my previous simple life. I miss pushing the pedals on my Trek, feeling the fresh air in my lungs. I crave lacing up my shoes, popping in ear buds and dashing out for a jog (without first having to be milked). I try to recall what having my own space was like.
I say all of these words to acknowledge my current state of being- to accept this new stage. I would not trade anything for the immeasurable joy and love of sharing my life with my daughter. In a blog post a few years back, I commented on “transformation” and what it means. Today, as a mother, I’m beginning to grasp it. Six months in and I have already learned so much about letting go. It is a metamorphosis into a more expansive version of myself.
And it is so fucking wonderful.
(Ear muffs Ruby!)