Yesterday I got a comment from Shades that made me just stop in my tracks and evaluate things in my life.

Earlier you stated that you weren’t maternal by any means (and that you’d rather go to graduate school and be a writer or a therapist, enjoying the undivided attention of your husband and all the extra income, etc.).

Now that you have Atticus, do you still feel the same way? Have you become maternal now, or do you still wish you could’ve done all those things?

I really had to stop and ponder this one. As I mentioned the other day, motherhood has not at all been what I expected. And honestly, I’m not sure that I’m the best person to be very representative because my own journey into motherhood has been so bizarre. But I’ll give it my best crack.

I still don’t know that I’d describe myself as maternal. Every time someone new gets called to Primary (the children’s sunday school program) I give thanks that it’s not me. I still don’t get all warm and squiggly looking at baby clothes, I don’t relish discussing all the minutia of baby life with other moms, and if someone asked me to watch their kids for the day I think I might have a panic attack.

I still have goals that go beyond the home and the immediate demands of my family. In fact, in late August I’m going to start an accelerated culinary school program, and as I wrote last week I just finished a book proposal I’m shopping around. I would absolutely love to go to grad school, and I haven’t ruled that out as still happening some day far off in the future.

It’s funny to me because I think I really expected motherhood to change me more. All these years my friends have been having children while I stood by and watched, I kept hearing about this massive change that occurs once the mantel of motherhood falls on you. How your priorities change and nothing in the world becomes as important as this little person that you would fight and claw and die for. Coming from the scrapbooking world, full of sweetly sentimental people cataloging every shining moment in the lives of their precious precious babies, I think I really expected to become emotional and sensitive and suddenly turn into someone like my mother-in-law who still, 30 years later, can’t bear to throw out the simplest little doodle one of her kids made in kindergarten.

My priorities have changed. I love this little guy with a ferocity that is overwhelming. I would fight and claw and die for him, as I’ve already had to prove. I find myself craving him like food. Even when he just takes an extra long nap I miss him and have to force myself to let him sleep and leave him alone. A couple weeks ago Bear gave me a spa day and arranged a few other activities to let me have my first day to myself in six months. I bailed and came home before it was halfway through. Even when we went to see The Dark Knight (which I freaking LOVED) I found myself checking my cell phone every few minutes to see how much time was left before I could get back to my baby.

And yet I’m still somewhat unsentimental about it all. I find myself easily distracted by all the things that need to get done, by keeping him happy and fed while my house meets basic standards of hygiene. I make sure to take pictures once a week or so because I know I’ll want them in the future, but I have to remind myself to do it. I still hand him off to Bear when he gets home so I can get some creative time in my studio. I don’t think he’s the most perfect bit of perfection that ever perfected. I see him as a marvel, I think he’s exceptionally cute, I’m so proud of how soundly he’s beating all the odds against him, but he’s still just a little person. I don’t see him as some living embodiment of all my hopes and dreams and every success I’ll ever have in this life. I just see him as my special little guy. Although I do have to confess to the odd moment where I find myself reenacting Holly Hunter from Raising Arizona. :sob: I just love him so ho ho ho much :sob: But those usually only come when I haven’t slept in days and I’m so grateful he finally fell asleep.

I think I expected motherhood to completely overwhelm my heart and wipe out every other desire. And it just hasn’t. Those ambitions and goals for growth and personal success are still in me looking for satisfaction. For now I’m content to reinterpret them in ways that benefit my family more than myself. Instead of starting an intensive grad program, I’m getting my educational fix by going one night a week to study the culinary arts – a skill that will certainly come in handy in the home. Now I’ve decided that my ambitions aren’t an obstacle to my developing maternal nature. I will set an example to Atticus of the value I place on education and that he should not only respect an accomplished woman, but desire one as a good partner.

So yeah. I’ve definitely changed, and I’m the same person at the same time. I think instead of overwhelming my heart, motherhood has knocked down the walls and made it three times bigger. Instead of shrinking all my personal ambitions, it’s enlarged all of me.