Pregnancy is a crash course in self-sacrifice, forcing months of strange discomfort in stranger places, climaxing in hours (days) of awesome pain, which is really, only preparation for what it's like to love someone so deeply.
I expected that motherhood would hurt me in some mundane ways: chunks of missing sleep, the significant reordering of my leisure time, stomach bugs that sink into my nostrils and college funds that rob my paychecks. And, of course, the near constant concern that my baby is poisoning herself, chocking herself or flying out of our third-story apartment.
But all of these things are passing, expected-- badges of mommy honor, even.
Somewhere in the middle of the coos and giggles and picturesque photo sessions, motherhood hurt me this year in ways that I did not see coming. The first week of Mary Allison's life included an extremely poor latch and oral structural issues that led to excruciating breastfeeding playing on repeat, day and night, with the same tenacity and pluck as the contractions from the day before. My breasts were bruised and bleeding and the size of coconuts.
Then came car-seats, big-time teething, airplane rides, grocery stores lines, post-partum infertility, the complete destruction of my privacy and now, facing my strong-willed personality face-to-face-- literally.
But the sacrifice that hurts the most is the ways in which motherhood stole my over-achieving-workaholic-perfectionism—a selfishness so old and so deep within me that I can barely see who I am without it.
Thinking back, I’m not sure when it began. First grade, maybe? When my best friend and I had a secret hand sign to prompt the other from across the classroom to sit up straight with our hands clasped on top of our desk, ready for instruction? Fourth grade when I lived for "100 + JR" (Jolly Rancher) to show up in red ink on my tests? Or fifth grade when I slaved over science fair tripods and GT projects weekend after weekend? Whenever it started, it certainly didn’t stop. I wanted my geography maps to look like art, wanted to sit as first chair French horn every week and sought after confirmation that I was still living up to my "teacher's pet" reputation.
And I did. Walk into the halls of Belmar Elementary, Crocket Middle School or AHS and you'll see my picture on the wall next to some "over-achiever" award.
The drive to be the best certainly produces good work and is oftentimes necessary and laudable but, for me, many times it was just vanity's mask. As a professional I shape new and appropriate behaviors to students with autism; I am a teacher who loves to watch my students excel and am a scientist obsessed with the data that helps my students make those gains.
Just as I am reinforced by my students' ascending data path, I too, want my professional behaviors "moving in a desired direction" as we say in PCDI-speak. And with my mentor and trainer's guidance, they are. It is with my colleagues' help that I am learning which parts of my job produce the behavior changes that will habilitate my students and which parts are just side-effects of my vain attempt at professional-perfection (whatever that is...). As strange as it sounds, leaving the work I love undone (or not "overdone" in many cases) to go home in the evening to my family is really challenging for me.
Likewise, I die a little each day that I don't live up to the stay-at-home mom that I would love to be-- the one that I always thought I would be. As hard as it is to close the five-inch data notebook in the evenings, it is just as hard to close the door behind the sleepy, milk-drunk baby (quickly becoming toddler) each morning. Again, I am learning, with Christopher's help, how to spend my time in the most meaningful ways with Mary Allison and leave behind some of the extra fluff that Pinterest boards are made of, the things that she wouldn't value anyway. Perhaps motherhood is the antonym of self-centeredness. It certainly has been my antidote in any case.
My gratitude to Mary Allison and to PCDI for giving me the opportunity to learn and to love being a mom and professional at the same time is immeasurable. Thank-you for graciously helping me shed my layers of selfishness. -b
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