When I held Owen for the very first time, everything changed. He curled up against my chest, this perfect little baby who was all mine to love and care for, finally someone who needed me. I was no longer Kalong…I became Mommy. And that was really scary because I didn’t know how to be a Mommy, I didn’t even know how to cook a potato.
Everything overwhelmed me for the first three weeks: breastfeeding, swaddling, holding, just looking at him made me burst into random happy/freaked out tears. The lack of sleep f*cked me up, but even during the few hours while I could have been sleeping I’d be staring at Owen, in disbelief that he was my baby (and also to make sure he was breathing). I was sure that if I left him alone for a minute, SIDS would get him. I obsessively learned everything I could as fast as possible, from wake windows to weekly milestones and researching every baby product I thought I needed. My entire sense of identity crumbled away quietly as if I was starting from scratch…what kind of mom was I? What kind of mom did I want to become? I forgot who I was before Owen, I didn’t care what I ate or what I wore as my world became a cocoon around his. I barely even noticed Andrew anymore because I was completely carried away with Owen, so exhausted but consumed by this little bundle that I devoted my new life to. Nothing. Else. Mattered.
When he got to be around four months old and I started to get sleep again, I realized that not once since December had I even thought about work. I started to wonder if my bond with him was starting to look unhealthy (my childless friends are probably nodding ‘YES’ and my mama friends are smiling ‘NOT AT ALL’) and if I should find a nanny or a daycare. It didn’t take long for me to realize how impossible and expensive it would be to do either, and how stupid I was for not securing him a spot, in case I wanted to go back to work sooner. Like, biggest noob move EVER. There is a childcare crisis going on, people. I signed Owie up for multiple waitlists that didn’t look promising for another year or so, and finding a good nanny sounded like an extensive, unlikely process. Thankfully, just around that time my parents decided to come back to Portland to help and I slowly started to have chunks of time for myself again to shower and sometimes see friends.
I didn’t miss particularly miss work, but I did envy working mothers. I wished so desperately that I could take a ‘break’, but I knew having a job and a baby came with many new issues as well. My only experience was that being a full time mom was often consuming, mind-numbing and isolating, a 24/7 job with no weekends off. I was so sore all the time, my body felt as if I went from a cushy office job to working graveyard shifts at a loading dock. It was hard on my marriage as well, I got so snappy at Andrew whenever he’d come home cheerful from work, wanting to discuss fun ideas he’d have for expanding his career…those things seemed like a universe away from my reality.
I think the hardest aspect of becoming a stay at home mom is how little it resembled my old life. I’d wake up around 5am to get Owie, and I’d go to sleep around 9pm in case he wakes up early(ier). It’s extremely physically demanding (constantly carrying him, picking him up and down, walking him around, lugging around strollers, carseats, diaper bags) and mentally exhausting (remember when to feed, change, put him down for naps, figuring out why he’s crying, entertaining him, while sleep deprived) my workload intensified significantly when he started eating solids (buying, prepping, cooking, storing, cleaning food). Things got much easier around six months, once Owen established a napping schedule because I could start planning our days a bit better and therefore establish some routines. We got much busier with music lessons, swimming lessons, story times and playdates because I wanted him to experience everything, and to meet other parents. And then cleaning, laundry, cooking, getting stuff for the house, etc. Most evenings after his bedtime I would end up on the couch with a massage thingy, sprawled out and zoned out, too exhausted to move or finish folding the laundry next to me. And I’d feel as if I had accomplished nothing that day.
Most of my close friends don’t have children yet, and the ones that do mostly headed back to work, whether they were quite ready or not. It seemed like the normal thing to do, like they were getting their old lives back, establishing a bit of independence again, and their babies were learning to adapt to different surroundings with new faces. I was still walking Owie to the coffeeshop every morning, sometimes running into old coworkers and wondering if I smelled like old milk. And then there were my other ‘free’ friends, that were going on backpacking trips, traveling and parties. There were isolating days, but there were plenty of happy days too as Owen’s personality started to bud. I know it sounds cliché but once he started smiling at me and clinging to me, I knew I had to keep on growing into the mommy he deserved, and I had to stay strong until things got easier, which they did.
Now Owen is ten months old, and he is the happiest, most loving little boy. He’s an adventurous eater, brave explorer and kisses stuffed animals. I’ve regained some energy and peace back, amazed that we have made it this far together. I am more comfortable spending every day with him now, playing games and going on walks, dancing in the living room and running errands together like we’re in a fabric softener commercial. I’ve even made some new mom friends that didn’t know me before I was Kalong the Mom, and I feel less isolated because I’ve formed a group of momma ‘coworkers’, each working separately but checking on each other (thank you social media) and meeting up when we can to support each other and drink mom juice (wine). We still have some roller coaster days but overall, I’ve gotten the hang of it. I even know how to cook a potato now.
So I turn to Daisy Dayo on the plane, and tell her that I’m just a stay at home mom, but it’s really hard work. She is delighted. “Oh GOOD!! I’m glad you’re able to do that. I stayed at home as well, and it was the best thing I could have ever done for my family. And don’t say ‘JUST stay at home mom’, I hope you are proud of it.” The young mother on the other side glanced over at me, surprised that I was traveling again, perhaps wondering if she will ever get back there herself.
Maybe this whole time I’m the only one thinking I’m doing less. I still struggle with the ‘stay at home mom’ title, and it could be society’s fault for making it seem like it’s not enough.
In reality, loving and raising Owen may be the most challenging and meaningful job I’ll ever have.
