Me in progress: Day 1.
Dear Homebody in Progress,
Since becoming a mother, I’ve forgotten that I’m also a person who needs care. I get so stuck in the responsibilities of motherhood and homemaking that I ignore myself until I’m running on fumes. When my daughter was born, I skipped meals, skipped showers (don’t judge me), stayed awake all night, and definitely wasn’t drinking enough water. “Sleep when the baby sleeps” felt like a sick joke. I got so run down that I actually started hallucinating one night. How was I supposed to care for my tiny human, produce breast milk, and give her everything she needed when I wasn’t taking care of myself at all?
I’m a year into this now, and I’m finally realizing that if I don’t take care of myself, I’ll lose what made me, me. But who am I? Or better yet, who was I?
Before all this, I was someone who loved my job and loved helping people. I worked full-time as a nurse before giving birth, but after my daughter came, I dropped down to working one overnight shift three times a month so she wouldn’t have to be in daycare. Monday through Friday, I stay home with her. On weekends my husband and I switch places. He watches her while I work. It works for us, but I can feel my nursing skillset slipping through my fingers. The friends I once had in my coworkers faded too, because I’m rarely there to build those relationships anymore.
I was also a student. I called myself the eternal student because I loved learning and kept enrolling back in school. Before pregnancy, I was pursuing a dual master’s degree in business and nursing. I dropped out because I couldn’t manage the clinical hours. I didn’t have the time or the village to be gone thirteen hours a day and then spend my evenings buried in research and papers until my eyes practically bled.
I was an attentive wife. My husband and I spent time together every night, cuddling on the couch, watching movies, and talking about whatever interesting thing we heard on a podcast that week. We went out to eat, held hands across the table, and made eye contact when we talked. Now we sing nursery rhymes all day, divide and conquer the mess, and negotiate who eats first while the other feeds and entertains the baby. We are still in love. Just in a different way. A tired way. A way that asks, “which one of us is grabbing the wipes next?”
And don’t even get me started on the pre-baby version of myself. I used to do face masks, take long baths with wine and bath bombs, binge Korean dramas, get my hair done, keep up with my eyebrows, shave, paint my nails, and treat myself to pedicures whenever I felt like it. Now my hair is falling out at the temples, I gave up on my Invisalign so my gap is back, I have a pooch that won’t go away, I’m eternally fatigued, and I’m pretty sure one of my toenails is about to break in half.
But despite all of that, having my daughter, and now being a year into this, made me realize something important. I need to take better care of myself. Not just for me, but for her. Not only would I die for her, but I need to live for her too. Dramatic? Maybe. But it’s true.
My daughter will be happiest if I can run after her without losing my breath. She will be happiest if I feel good inside and have more reasons to smile than to frown. She will be happiest if I stop being a chaotic mess and start owning my body, my mind, my spirit, my environment, and my time.
So that is what this Me in Progress section is going to be about. It’s about a person who has felt lost in the sauce and is starting to put herself back together piece by piece. Eating healthier. Moving my body. Learning again. Resting when I need it. Maybe meditating? (I don’t know. I will try anything at this point.) And, becoming someone my daughter and husband would be proud of. But most importantly, someone I’m proud of.
Sincerely,
