9 months to Re-Form Myself

Am I one of those people who achieves something, say finishing a half marathon, and then cheekily talks about it for days after forever finding ways to bring it up, refer back to it, remind people that I DID? Yes, yes I am. Forgive me for my bragging but I truly don’t feel all that apologetic. I am immensely proud of my little run that I did this past Sunday for several reasons. One is that I really truly enjoyed every minute of it and felt both strong and capable for the entire run. I am certain at some point I was simply floating with happiness and I am now appreciative of these past few months, of having no choice but training crippling uphills at a high altitude, for equipping me with the physical capacity to undertake 13.1 miles at a consistently relaxed pace. Exercise used to be a way of punishing myself and making myself smaller. Now it unleashes me and allows me space to expand and breathe and feel powerful. Secondly I am so proud of being able to do this after having had a human child expul itself from my body. Childbirth is like nothing I could have ever comprehended before going through it. One can only imagine that something of the magnitude of forming the complexity of a human life in your body and then releasing it in an act of extreme physical strength changes you beyond reason. I grew up in a life with very few wins. My longest internal struggle has been one long feeling of being nobody of note. Now in two ways I feel significant. The first being completing the half. What a love letter to myself that was. The second is becoming a mother.

It takes around nine-ish months for a baby to be ready to come to this side of existence. After that it’s both go-time and slow-time as your entire life reshapes itself around this new centre of gravity. After I had our squish in my arms I wondered often how I would feel attempting to crawl back to a version of myself from before. Currently, I look back at videos and photos of myself and think I do not recognise her, or feel any sense of connection to her. Is this matrescence in action? After one goes through puberty and all that adolescent goodness and hormonal to-and-froing and body stretching and growing, you emerge more or less entirely reformed. Pregnancy is fundamentally physically similar and mentally/emotionally as profoundly disruptive just packed into a shorter period of time. Now I struggle to know if the goal should be to ‘get back to myself’ or endeavour upon this path of my new self and allow the river of change to sweep me along to an unknown and terrifying destination. When my childless coworkers talk about their days, their plans, their….ease at which they move through the world I feel a deep stirring of jealousy and confusion, grief and nostalgia. Honestly, I also feel a disinterest and if there is ever a moment I feel farthest from myself-and them-it is then. I used to be one of those people to the community of parents in the world. Now I will never be just ‘Ned’ with all my routines and patterns of life before baby and I am confused by the messaging of the world which is suggesting that the point of ‘after’ baby is to bounce back to that old self. I am not sure internally if I have grieved that death of my previous iteration fully. Not to be too dark about it, but evolution does mean there are selves left behind as we move forward.

Loves, I am trying to be wary of my content (HAH my content, who do I think I am?) becoming too centered around child-rearing, mothering etc. I don’t want to alienate those who have no interest in this mundanity. At the same time, I feel alienated from the mundanity of a life without a miniature human dictating my every move. Plus I am not so sure I can cleave myself into a ‘before’ and ‘after’ as if it is two poles on the ends of the earth, just as I can’t represent myself in my writing as simply as the ‘old me and her interests’ versus the ‘new me and her priorities’.

I am someone of note to my child. Well, I will be when she realizes I am not just an extension of her and the provider of the milk of human kindness.

“24/7 boobs on demand at your wish, m’lady.”

In all seriousness though after a lifetime of craving a feeling of….purpose in communion with others or rather, a satiation of the deep need to feel seen, known and loved, it is pretty profound to receive that from the flesh of my flesh. However, I want to stress the point that nobody should feel they must allow their entire selves to become subsumed under the identity of being mother, father, carer of any kind. We are infinitely more dimensional than just simply what role we play to the others in our lives, or our work, and for me it’s a new journey of self-evaluation that I have begun to embark upon. Nine months post-partum feels like a significant milestone. My baby is cartwheeling into toddler hood and is no longer new new, and I am crying behind her as I attempt my own first steps on this very long journey of living which has no end goal really except to be with the ones I love and to be within myself, who I want to learn to love. Every mile I ran in the half was dedicated to a beloved person in my life. My husband asked me if I had dedicated a mile to myself, I did not because I am still after all these years unable to fully turn towards myself and show her compassion.

Now crossing the nine month mark, the ninth mile was the turn around mile on the run, I am turning back to go forward. I am sure I will do it bumpily, with many detours, tears and feelings of fond regret for my sweet childless self who did not realise how very lucky she was to go to bed whenever she wanted and wake up whenever she wanted. I will also do it gladly for the marshmallow baby I get to hang out with every day, and when things all get to be too much, mama can always go for a run.

July 4th 2023. Nine months preggo and ten days before little Shark Tooth arrived.