A
pleasant surprise is discovering that I can identify as a feminist and a
caregiver
-
Rhiannon Lucille Coslet
I should be writing about
joy, but instead, I've been sobbing uncontrollably. Nothing major, just the
physical effects of illness, lack of sleep, and a baby who has a strong dislike
of the heat due to her Celtic ancestry. Parenthood is teaching me that while
the highs might feel very high, the lows are also fleeting because of the joy,
oh my God, the joy! It helps you get by.
Of course, the cult of
motherhood has enough supporters. Many mothers have been unhappy and frustrated
because we are all expected to be so upbeat about raising children. Many ladies
have admitted to me that they did not experience the expected tremendous,
golden oxytocin high after giving birth. Instead, when they got to know their
babies, the delight increased, but they continued to feel guilty.
The issue is that I am
overjoyed. I am giddy and clappy because, as the song I've been singing to him
nonstop would have it, I know it. The infant is adorable right now; now that he
can laugh, he makes these huge, wide-mouthed gurgly chuckles. When he's not
fun, he can be challenging, but the fun parts make the challenging parts
bearable. When a baby is laughing at your antics, it can be difficult to feel
sorry for yourself for very long.
One of the few facts
about babies I didn't know before starting this trip was that you should pump
their small legs like a bicycle to release the wind. That surprised me. I keep
chanting "pumpy pumpy" as I do this. Admitting that it is absurd
probably implies that I will never be regarded as a writer of Serious
Intellectual Importance. But I've come to understand that any parent worth
their salt can only maintain a very low level of gravitas when faced with a
young child who expects to be amused. I now speak what linguists refer to as
"motherese," or baby talk. My mother hates the word, and she still
holds Noam Chomsky and Steven Pinker accountable for undervaluing the role that
women play in their children's language development. However, as I remarked to
my son as I changed him during our conversation with his grandmother:
"They are guys, therefore they would say that, Mr. Poopypants,"
That must be the
compromise you make when you have a child. Particularly if you're a woman, some
people will stop taking you seriously, but in return, you get to stop taking
yourself so seriously. And in that, there is so much delight to be had. I'm
still thinking (why do I feel like this). But, I also have found new freedom in
lightness.
I've said it before, but
during my pregnancy, I could have used a little more joy and a lot less hate. I
attribute this to an overcorrection of the historical taboo against airing
one's displeasure with mothering's expectations. However, I believe that
parents occasionally hold back their happiness for other reasons, particularly
when around others who do not yet have children but desire to have them.
Other people's happiness
could seem like a personal slight when I yearned for a kid so intensely that I
felt as though the need for it would choke me. Wanting a child but being unable
to have one is a very challenging situation.
The fact that providing
care requires work is another issue. Even though it was some of the hardest
labor I have ever done, I was prepared for it and it didn't come as a surprise.
However, it is also love, and love brings delight. Some people believe that
because the two are so closely related, highlighting one will diminish the
other. It's strange since, despite your love for the job, you wouldn't be
required to perform any other job for free. But even though we rely on all that
unpaid labor for our economy, doing the work of mothering and finding joy in it
while both wanting remuneration for it and societal support is sometimes
presented as an unreasonable demand. And so the joy decreases as we make our
political demands.
I've only recently
acquired the ability to balance my feminist and caregiver sides. I spent a lot
of my adolescence in the latter role, and while I never felt it was unfairly
thrust upon me, I also never realized how rewarding it could be. Taking care of
another person's needs and attending to their physical requirements is an act
of beauty and grace. I always noticed it in other people but never gave myself
any credit. Now, I enjoy and feel validated when my son cries, and I reach for
him, pick him up, and hold him in my arms while he drifts off to sleep.
Moreover, joy.