Change

Change is a funny thing. When we can’t have it, we want it. When it does finally come around, we get anxious and wish it would wait a while. Or, maybe it’s not change itself that’s so strange – after all, change is a constant oddly enough – but it’s our reaction to it that leaves us confused. Well, I’m anxious and confused. This is nothing new, of course, but the reasons for it have changed:)

Calan was eight weeks old on Tuesday, wow! How did that happen? Seems like it happened overnight – over a very, very long night. I haven’t written anything for the last few weeks because I’ve been stuck in this weird place. Each week has started anew, with much optimism that I would now be ready to attack my to-do list and get to a place that feels as close to “caught-up” as can be expected. I seem to have put an enormous amount of pressure on myself to get to this place well in advance of returning to work, yet the state of “caught-up” is definitely a moving target. I get closer each week, but then it jumps just out of reach. I think this might actually be good enough for now, though, because, if you know me, you know that the state of “almost caught-up” is pretty much where I hang out anyway. I’m usually not caring for an infant and recovering from childbirth, though . . .

Speaking of recovery, the doc says I’m recovered, ha! As of last Tuesday, Calan’s seven week birthday, I was officially declared recovered and able to return to all previous activities. The only advice being “start slow, because you’re out of shape”.  No kidding! I know that all of this is true, and I know it’s pretty standard to be declared fit to do everything again, but come on!!! Who actually feels recovered and fit to do everything after six or seven weeks? I finally feel like I expected to feel about a week or two after he was born, and I’m pretty sure it’s going to take a solid year to feel “recovered and ready to return to all previous activities.” I will cut the doc some slack, though. After all, he’s a man, and truly, I know he’s right, just doesn’t feel like it.

Anyway, Calan is about to turn two months old  (on Sunday), I am “recovered”, and I am as close to caught up as I ever have been. That’s what has been going on the last few weeks, and getting to this place has taken all of my focus and energy. But it’s not all struggle. There have been some really great things happening too – a few more smiles, a little less fussy, better sleep, working on a schedule and seeing improvements, and (the best part), we’re starting to have genuine fun. More moments of baby bliss when he’s awake and seems to be taking in the world. All of this translates to the possibility that life will indeed return to “normal” (apparently, “normal” and “recovered” are two things I will never feel again, therefore I feel the need to use quotation marks) And there are moments, nearly every day, when I feel a sense of calm and control, peace and happiness. Quiet. That’s when I get anxious . . . .

Because quiet is new, quiet means change. We’ve worked so hard to get to it, that now that we have it (oh, half the time at least), it’s making me a little uncomfortable, like something must be wrong, but I can’t put my finger on it. With the extreme sleep-deprivation, and feelings of helplessness and incompetence, I knew what was wrong – I was tired and didn’t know what I was doing! But quiet and calm, and not knowing if something is wrong, or what that something might be, is different. It seems this maternal angst has been brewing for a while, but it really came into focus on Calan’s eight week birthday when he (get this) slept for nearly seven hours overnight and had to be awakened to eat. This made me jump for joy, get out the schedule books, re-work the schedule, put us on track for a life that is both manageable and enjoyable for the foreseeable future. Then it made me pause. Suddenly, I could sleep for hours at a time (which of course, I didn’t, and can’t – sure something is wrong, or just waking up out of habit). He also started taking more defined naps, so I’ve had at least a couple of 2 hour blocks during the day when I can get things done without interruption. This is all good, right? Yes, but it means that change is coming. Calan is starting to noticeably grow . . . and grow up. And he won’t be my tiny angel for long. And when he’s no longer my tiny angel, I will never be able to hold him in my arms the same way. And I wasted so many of his early days being exhausted to tears, unable to enjoy just holding him because I felt so very very trapped and tired. And even though I know that all of this is so terribly normal, it breaks my heart. I don’t want to lose one single day. And I don’t want him to change! But I want him to change! Grow up, love, live, work, travel, find out what he’s good at and do it, meet the right girl, have babies of his own. How can I possibly resolve this within myself? I don’t think I can. I don’t think any parent can, and this must be the universal pain and anguish of having a child. But I wouldn’t go back. I’m so glad that I have this little guy in my life and my heart, even if it means facing, and working to conquer, my apparent fear of change. If I didn’t step up and accept this most impossible challenge, I think that then, I would really look back with regret and disappointment. But now I will be able to look back and say “I did it.” And I get a wonderful person in my life, my son. As uncomfortable as I am right now, and suspect I will remain, I wouldn’t change a thing:)