Actually an Artist

What helps you through periods of change? What role does community play when you’re in that space?

Contemplative Writing Prompts 8, 2024

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Most of what I know about myself and adaptation to change has been forged in the fires of new parenthood. In fact, since falling pregnant seven years ago this time of year, I would have to say that I’ve weathered more changes to myself and my life than at any other period, and that includes overseas moves and my schooldays. If one’s selfhood is an unbroken thread, weaving its way through the various experiences of its life, then early motherhood must be a grafting or knot or complete unending of sorts, at least as I experienced it. It was a complete disruption with my relationship to my Self. In a day I went from growing a life, being whole, to having given life, being two. Split in two. Two beings who did not get the memo that they were separating, and for whom the process came suddenly and violently.

I once said in a therapy session that it felt like Theo didn’t get the message that we were separated beings after birth, that the constant contact and refusal to be put down or even stopped from nursing was almost a rebellion to the suddenness of our separation. Before going to the OR for an emergent C section, I requested delayed cord clamping. Everything else I’d hoped for in this birth has gone to pot, I thought, but at least I can salvage something. It did not. She could not, the doctor declared. The risk of infection was too great and anyways they’ll ‘massage’ the umbilical cord to transfer the fetus’s blood back to his body. This was only partially my concern because my very real desire to transition gently according to what my spirit was telling me was so sacred and scary to me, I hadn’t even really admitted it to myself.

Finding a community of other parents whose journey began in trauma has helped me integrate what I experienced. I had the opportunity to share, and even right now, still do, because this change, becoming a parent, was so profound and painful and beautiful that human connection is the only thing that really gets you through it. Normalizing the difficulties of those early months has provided me with a lot of healing and a desire to sit with others facing the same things. It’s a community that is sadly too large but holds one another in the tenderest, truest of ways. I think every community can learn from this vulnerability

These days, we’re still navigating the near-constant changes of early childhood, although now we have two. Our communities are varied and include family and friends, my son’s school, library families, and church. The community that most holds me though is my family. I wish I had a wider circle, but it’s hard to make friends in a (still) new place, and we’re only just now starting to think more seriously about reaching out and forming more connections. We have long distance connections all over, and those are sustaining, but people need a variety of relationships to thrive. I want to be good at taking care of those close to me and those far. Through becoming parents, my husband and I faced a long list of things we wanted to improve in ourselves. I had to deal with my desire for control. The out-of-control birth of my own motherhood and New Self tore my selfhood tapestry beyond what I could repair in any short amount of time. The echos of this disconnect have rippled out even to this day, though mostly in positive ways by this point. My anxiety and need for control were a hinderance to community and togetherness, both in my marriage and in my wider circle. The more I let go of control, the more I am open to new friendships and relationships. Relationships rearranged themselves as I made space and found that space filled by others. My marriage has settled into a partnership of equals that I’m thankful for and so proud of.

Nowadays, I don’t find change to be as difficult as when I first became a mom. I have a lot more perspective on how long these stages actually last, and instead of fighting it, I go with the flow much more easily. I don’t love every moment, but I am savoring most moments, because it is all so fleeting. Right now, my daughter says ‘doh’ instead of no, and it’s quite honestly the cutest thing. She’s just over a year and a half, and says ‘no’ a lot. Except it’s ‘doh’ and hilarious and adorable. My favorite is “OOOOHHH DOOOH” said with many inflections and associated implications. Take a moment and think about all the ways you might say ‘oh no!’ and then put that into the voice and body of a small 1 1/2 year old. It’s (mostly) fun. But already, she’s starting to get the ‘n’ sound out, so ‘doh’ is slowly being replaced by ‘no’. One of many small signs of growing up. A sign of the big changes my family will face in the coming years.