Life As A New Mom

It’s been a long time since I wrote anything resembling a blog, a song or even a letter. Motherhood is wonderful and while it still allows the potential for self-reflection, time to write it down is never quite as plentiful as when you were single and autonomous. However, at the moment my child and husband are both napping, I have hit my limit on television and I’m in between books.

Mama Mandy, a title which is no longer ironic or self-mocking, has thoughts on life, love and motherhood (thus far). I plan on sharing them when I get little windows of time like I currently have. If you want to “hate” please find another place to do so. Trolling a mommy blog is about as low as it gets so feel free to go elsewhere with the negative energy.

The first thing I’d like to share is that I have recently learned that as a new mom there is nothing wrong with taking some time off from your previous identity and just snuggling your kid. For me, this meant I am taking some time off from my music.

There was a time that if I didn’t have a guitar in my hands I didn’t feel…whole. This also applies to careers outside of the arts. In addition to being a musician (and an actress…another blog entry all together…but I’ll get to that at some point.) I was also a therapist. I worked almost exclusively with high risk children and teenagers, most of which had been sexually or physically abused. Needless to say, a lot of my identity was wrapped up in what I did, into what I put out into the world. Once my daughter was born I suddenly realized that the most important thing I’m putting out into the world now is my child. Thus my focus has understandably shifted.

Feminism is a fine idea in theory…but when you try to combine it with motherhood it just gets exhausting. If you try to add that on top of a chronic illness as well it gets downright impossible. We try to combine what our instincts tell us to do with what the world tells us we should do and it results in an arduous and shattering mess of assumed responsibility. Whether we realize it or not, most of the women in my generation were raised to believe that we should be able to work a full time job, raise a family, keep a clean house, actively participate in church and/or society and keep up with at least three hobbies. If we aren’t capable of doing all of this (with a smile) then there is obviously something wrong with us.

Truth is…there isn’t. If you need to work to feed and clothe your family then do it. If you need to write a blog (ahem), sing a song or act in a play in order to retain your sense of self, then do it. If you need to have a spotless house in order to feel sane…go right ahead. However, just don’t feel like you have to do ALL of that in order to be a good wife/mother/woman/feminist/labra doodle. (Yes, I make TV references. Get used to it. That was for my Scrubs loving friends.)

Do what is needed to be fulfilled enough to be a good mom/wife/person in and of yourself but don’t feel like all of that is necessary in order to retain an aspect of yourself that isn’t really you anymore. Life is long and periodically boring so at some point you can pick that part of yourself back up, dust it off and say to yourself: “Self, I used to be really good at dancing the polka. Let’s get our Lawrence Welk on!” I’m sure I’ll pick my guitar back up… and probably soon…but for now it was just causing stress for me that was negatively affecting the way I parent.

Music, specifically songwriting, was my way of doing self-therapy through a lot of bad years. At the lowest points I wrote some of my most poignant works. Now that I’m happy, I just don’t know what to do with myself artistically. I taught guitar for a few years, I started making mash ups and medleys of old hymns and gospel songs, I explored new styles and mediums…but I honestly don’t find guitar as necessary to my day to day life as I once did. I don’t find it necessary to write out my dangerous and self-harming thoughts in lyrical form in order to keep myself from taking desperate actions anymore. If things get bad in my head I just talk to my husband until I feel better.

As I’m writing this my daughter Serenity (Yes, a Firefly reference…) is about 4 months old. She is a sweet, pleasant child who likes to cuddle, play and get kissed, specifically on her neck and toes. She recently discovered said toes and she likes to hold her own feet up out of the way during diaper changes. The Lil’ Miss also makes this pose to let us know she is sitting in poo and is ready to have us fix that problem. She is just learning to crawl and likes to eat a variety of fruits in baby food form. She shows the proper signs of having a secure emotional attachment to both her father and I. I love my child so much that it has shifted the focus of my entire universe to wherever she is at that specific moment…which right now is about two inches to my left.

All of this is preamble to say, I love my kid and I love my wonderful husband. I am extremely blessed and I am well aware of it. It doesn’t mean I don’t struggle with a lifetime of social programming. I was 28 when David and I got married and 29 when Serenity was born. There was a whole other me for a lot of years before they showed up. I’ll be bluntly honest and say that I was sick of that person and ready for a dramatic alteration but that doesn’t mean there aren’t moments where I’m struck by how radically this old life of mine has been transformed.

Some might say I’ve changed… but I say it was about darn time.

Stay tuned…I have lots of fun stories and rants to come.