The Hardest Part

     I remember my mother telling me, when I was pregnant with my first son and had made the decision to resign from my job and stay home full time, that this decision had a challenging side that was often over looked and under- appreciated.  “The hardest part Kristin,” she said “is the loneliness.”  I remember thinking about it for not very long at all and pretty much dismissing her advice.  ‘I like my alone time,’ I thought.  ‘I don’t think not having lots of adults in my life will bother me.’  If I could have one of those movie-moments right there, where you get to flash forward 5 or 10 years into your future I’d have stopped and immediately and asked her to give me a detailed description of how she did it.  Because, flash-forward 5 years: I'm there.

     The loneliness is, by far, the hardest part of being a mom.  The feeling of being invisible.  Like, when you want someone to engage you, talk to you, touch you, have lunch with you…there’s no one around.  Conversely, the two times a day you need to pee, or take a shower and want no contact with the outside world whatsoever, all eyes are on you and everyone has something that they must tell you immediately!  The rest of the day we spend floating through rooms picking up things, cleaning up messes, digging in sand boxes, answering strange questions, scrubbing toilets, mediating arguments, cooking meals, loading up the car, driving little people to big places, emptying the car…busy as ever.  But lonely too. 

     The people who we share these times with are naively enjoying the only time in their lives they will ever get to be entirely self-focused.  And they should be!  But they don’t fill that void of having peers.  People who you can have a conversation with without using the word s “silly” or “potty.” Who are away from you long enough to wonder what your private life is like or with whom going out to dinner doesn’t involve 500 napkins and connecting the dots with crayons.  People whom you have respect for but no expectations of real love, affection or devotion.  Whose behavior and personalities are not a direct reflection of your abilities, strengths or weaknesses.  People you can appreciate fully for who they are without the pressure of trying to create them.  I think that’s what it is sometimes:   that the relationships  I have now as a stay-at-home mom are ALL of great value and importance to me.  I don’t remember what it’s like to have whimsical, nonchalant relationships with people who had no expectation that I take care of them physically or emotionally.  In my small world, everyone matters a great deal.  There is much at stake.  The pressure is high.  And the scenery doesn’t change.  Despite the implications of comfort and rest that come with the word, “home,” being in one full-time can feel very suffocating.  The office you never get to leave.  The air that never changes.  The lack of people fluttering in and out of your way, all doing very important and independent things, sometimes consulting you for advice….but all still part of the same operation.  Here:  you are the operation and everyone needs just you all of the time.  

  

     I know someday, sooner than I now realize, I will be fluttering around an office again, giving presentations, taking lunch breaks, feeling important….and I will look back and wish I could be lonely again.  Holed up in my home with my two baby boys.  Maybe knowing that I will know this will make that day easier to bear.  And knowing that I should have known, that will end up being the real hardest part.