A Very Long Ramble About Timelines, Life, and... Bears?

Disclaimer: I am really long-winded. Really.

Back when we were going through premarital counseling (almost 10 years ago now) Peter and I completed an activity where we individually created a "timeline" for our married life. Without collaborating in any way we were supposed to write down our goals/expectations for where we would be (as both individuals and a family) in 5, 10, 15, 25 years, etc. Then, during one of our counseling sessions, we sat down together and compared notes. The idea behind the exercise was that couples often have different ideas/expectations when it comes to the big picture of their future - but often don't reflect on these expectations in any sort of concrete way, as individuals or as partners, leading to conflict down the road in their married lives.

When Peter and I compared notes we discovered that our "life plan" matched almost completely. This was encouraging, and being a planner, I subconsciously hoped that this meant we would not only avoid conflict but also be able to simply tick off our life goals in a simple, straightforward, and well-organized manner. (Because really, I am more than a tad bit neurotic when you come right down to it.) Grad school? Check. Perfect jobs? Check. House? Check. Baby? Check. All in perfectly timed succession. After all, we'd made our plans. We'd even agreed on the plans we developed independently. Clearly, it was meant to be.

Well, needless to say, life has not turned out exactly according to our plans. It started off all right - we moved to California in the first chapter of our big adventure so that Peter could attend seminary. But we didn't move back to the Midwest (and our perfect jobs, and house, and family) when he graduated. Instead, a little over seven years after we set up camp on the West Coast, we're still here. And during that time we've been through soul-sucking jobs, major depression, job terminations, friendship terminations (well, almost), a year of trying to get pregnant with no success, a miscarriage at the 15th week, strained finances, doubt/confusion/anger/anxiety/fear/homesickness (that would be me, mostly), and all the other normal ups and downs of life.

But, honestly, I love my life. And I'm not just saying that. I really, really do. Now, to be fair, many of the things in the above list are behind us, or at least strongly diminished. We have jobs we like and find reasonably fulfilling. We have wonderful friends who support and encourage us and make us laugh. We have a great home and live in a great city. And, most notably, we have a truly amazing little girl whom we have been given the privilege to raise and love. So it's not too hard to love life these days. (Although the still-living-in-an-apartment situation is quite a regular struggle for me, truth be told. We have a great apartment, and I know I should be grateful for it, and I am most of the time, but... it's a struggle. I practically drooled over a washer and dryer at Best Buy the other day. And I was also informed by a 5-year-old that my house was way too small, and I needed to get a bigger one like his. I hear ya, kid. Oops - I mean, I have a great apartment.)

But, and here's where we actually start getting to the point of this post believe-it-or-not, part of the reason I love my life is because I've become much more capable of letting go of my expectations and plans when it comes to a timeline. (Okay, the people closest to me - who hear all my grumblings on a regular basis - might disagree with the previous statement. But really. I've gotten a LOT better.) To just cut to the chase and be completely cheesy, I've started expecting the unexpected.

Life does not go the way we plan or expect. Period. Not occasionally, or sometimes. Pretty much always. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that anything major in life going the way it was planned would probably be the exception to the rule. At least, that's the way my life is. Don't get me wrong, Peter and I still make plans and set goals. We just hold them very, very loosely. And I think that's a good thing. It not only allows us to be more flexible and unperturbed by unexpected change, it also gives us greater room and freedom to grow and develop as individuals.

Case in point: my job. (Aha! Now you see where I'm going with this!) When I started grad school for my library degree, Peter and I agreed that if I got into it and hated it, I could quit. If I got halfway through and got pregnant, I could quit. Or take a class a year. Or whatever. There would be no mutterings or worrying over lost tuition or time or whatever. Why? Because life doesn't go the way we plan or expect and sometimes you just have to try something and be willing to let it go if it doesn't work. So when I got a full-time librarian job, all those same qualifications still applied.

And then, we had Eden.

Talk about a life changer. Can anyone really be prepared for what it means to have a child? I don't think so. Seriously, this is definitely one of those events where you just need to fully embrace the "expect the unexpected" mantra. People can (and will!) tell you how hard it is to be a parent and how your life will never be the same, yada, yada, yada, till you can (and will!) hear it in your sleep, but it won't make a difference. Even if you hang on to their every word, soaking it all in and reflecting on it with utmost gravity and the best intentions, it still won't matter. You can't prepare for this, people. You just can't. Well, that's what I think anyway.

So, we had Eden, and once again realized that nothing was set in stone. Not plans, not timelines, not jobs, nothing. Furthermore, I quickly realized that when it comes to motherhood, I not only needed to expect the unexpected with regard to circumstances external to me, but also internally. Having a baby rattled up my identity and emotions in unexpected ways. I'd never been one of those girls who loved kids or babies. I mean, I didn't dislike kids. I just didn't oooh and ahhh over them and want to hold them or play games or stuff like that all the time. I hated baby-sitting. Talk about a miserable way to make some extra cash. So I never thought I'd be the stay-at-home-mom type.

But then I had Eden and the world shifted inside and out, and suddenly I was Mama Bear. And let me tell you that Mama Bear is not interested in careers, or corporate ladders, or time invested in graduate degrees, or pretty much anything outside of taking care of that baby. She's DEFINITELY not interested in paying someone else to do the job that she wants to do (needs to do) so that she can go sit in a staff meeting somewhere, or read through 14 kazillion e-mails everyday, or try to answer reference questions like "what do demons look like in real life?" (actual question from a few days ago). I did not expect Mama Bear. I did not know the potential for such a creature was even inside of me. I kind of thought I'd have a baby and just go on being the same person I always was except, you know,... with a baby. But that is not how things turned out.

Side note: They really need to figure out what hormone or neurotransmitter or crazy lurking DNA brain thingy is responsible for turning previously ordinary, rational women into Mama Bears, and then bottle it up. Because seriously, you could start a revolution with that stuff.

Anyway, at first I thought, well, I'll just work long enough after the baby is born to pay off my student loans. Then, as my return-to-work date actually loomed on the horizon, I changed that to I'll just work one full year. But after I started back at work full-time it became much more a matter of, just try to make it to the 6 week mark, okay now the 3 month mark, can I hold out for 6 months?, there is no way I can make it a year... By the end I was counting the days, hours, minutes. It was painful. And not just painful because I missed Eden and had lost much of my enthusiasm for my job. Painful because I felt like I had to hide it - because I didn't feel like I could just say that out loud and be taken seriously. Painful because I felt like I was being somehow unprofessional and immature by wanting to "stay-at-home." Painful because I didn't like to admit even to myself that I had changed so much so quickly - it made me feel fickle, unreliable, like I wasn't a committed or dependable adult.

The truth is, I have a very, very small pain tolerance - physically and emotionally. I learned the first during labor, but I should have remembered the second from a series of past experiences. If I'm forced to do something that I don't enjoy or find fulfilling, there is a good chance I will be emotionally shredded within a very short span of time. Fortunately, I have a husband who loves me, understands me, and supports me. And fortunately, he was not taken aback by the unexpected shift in my feelings and plans (or if he was, he hid it well). He encouraged me in my job but when it got to the point that I just couldn't do any more, he was more than okay with letting go of the previous goals and charting a new course - even if it meant some things were lost in the process. He is a really great husband and a great friend to me.

Sooooo, the gist of all this is that as of the middle of August (the 17th to be exact) I stopped working full-time at the library and became a stay-at-home mom. I still work about 10 hours a week - mostly in the evenings and on weekend afternoons - and that seems to be enough hours for me to feel like I'm staying in the loop of my profession (for whenever I want or need to go back) as well as enable us to stay afloat financially (as we also tighten the belt quite a bit). The few hours that I'm away, Eden is either asleep or being watched by Peter for the most part. This means that we are saving on childcare as well as being able to give her greater consistency in her schedule and life. All good things.

And being home with her is wonderful. Tiring, of course. Taking care of a child is work as anybody who has done it knows. But it's so meaningful to me and such a joy to see her grow and explore and learn. She's such a smarty-pants. And so inquisitive! And fearless! It does my soul good just to be around her. I'm sure that I will have moments of doubt about this decision - I am me, after all - but spending more time with Eden is just one of those things that can't be too wrong.

What a wonder is the unexpectedness of life!