I Once Was Lost, But Now I'm Found

I follow a lot of blogs, post on message boards, attend story times, arrange play dates, and participate in various other parenting forums in which we "compare notes." A common thread among moms is a yearning to "get away." Many, it seems, feel like during their journey through parenthood they somehow lost their identity. Over and over again I read or hear moms gush about their insatiable craving for "me time" or a "girl's night out" or a "date night." Maybe it's my controlling personality, maybe it's my scars of infertility, or maybe it's the way I was mothered, but I have zero desire to be away from Sylvie EVER-at least not yet. Mothers often urge each other to get a job so they can retain their self-worth, enroll their babies in day care so they can socialize, give them a bottle so someone else can "bond" with them, let them "cry it out" so they can't "manipulate" their parents, and countless other tidbits of unsolicited advice. But those things just don't feel right to me and I fear that so many moms go against their better judgement and instinct as a result of media, marketing, and other influences. I don't feel stripped of my independence, I feel empowered to have created, carried, and birthed (albeit traumatically and unnaturally) such an incredible tiny person.

I dread the day I have to go back to work. In fact, I'm pretty bitter that we've been forced into this fast-paced, two-income "the harder and longer you work determines how successful you are" society, which is largely responsible for our pre-packaged, convenience culture. I have some pretty radical feminist beliefs and some may think I'm less of a strong independent woman because I'm barefoot, in the kitchen, and depending on a MAN for income. Ultimately, I think the most feminist thing you can do is to be in whatever role you WANT and make the choices you WANT, not what you feel peer-pressured, mother-in-law-pressured, or pediatrician-pressured to do.

I admit, we were at first suckered into some of the mainstream parenting philosophies. We bought a crib, a swing, pacifiers, and various other "self soothing" baby paraphernalia. After we brought Sylvie home, it quickly became clear that all of those must-have gadgets were simply unnecessary barriers that separated us from our baby and our money. Humans are pack animals. Biologically, it just doesn't make sense for Ronny and I to sleep together while the smallest, most vulnerable, most defenseless member of our "pack" sleeps alone, far from us. Biologically, it just doesn't make sense for my baby to suck on an artificial nipple when mine are perfectly capable of delivering the healthiest nutrients. Biologically, it just doesn't make sense that I ignore my baby's cries when she's simply trying to communicate her needs. If it is well within my control, I refuse to sacrifice her physical, emotional, or intellectual health for convenience or image.

I find overwhelming joy in being with my baby all day, every day. I find pure bliss in wearing her close to my heart. I find great pride in sustaining her life through my milk. I find deep comfort in sharing my bed with her. I find profound fulfillment in soothing her cries immediately.

Just as much as I practice an attached-style of parenting for Sylvie's sake, I also do it for my own. She's supposed to be completely dependent on me for food and comfort, the way nature intended, and I'm thankful, lucky, honored, and gratified to oblige. I haven't lost my identify, I've found it.