Tears & Fears

I hesitate to write this post, but I also know that I've always chosen to be honest on this blog, through the moments of joy and of pain. And while everything holds true from my last post--because who wouldn't be smitten with our sweet girl?!--there are some realities facing me right now that are causing a great deal of anxiety, fear, and tears.

Today, I took Lily to school with me. We just went for an hour, just long enough for me to set up the classroom I haven't inhabited in over six months. And while there was an incredible sense of gratitude in watching my daughter play in a room I truly never believed she'd enter, there was also both a real and a metaphorical dichotomy going on. I found myself trying to balance rehanging pictures and restocking my desk with running across the room to pick Lily up or to sing to her for a moment, trying to race down the hall to get something from my office before she started to squeal too loudly, trying to--in short--be a mom and a teacher at the same time. Within just a few minutes, it became clear just how tenuous a tightrope I'll be walking as I return to work next week.

Yes, I "signed up" for all of this--for being a mom, for continuing to teach, for breastfeeding through at least her first year, for being on an opposite schedule from Jeff so we can avoid the astronomical cost of daycare. However, as a dear friend reminded me, signing up for it doesn't mean I'm not overwhelmed or anxious or questioning each step of the journey. And in moments like this one--moments when breastfeeding is suddenly quite difficult and I have no idea how to schedule pumping into my teaching day and I fear I'll never get a stack of papers graded in a timely fashion--it's easy to lose sight of reality.

Reality tells me everything will get done. Just like every tech week I ever did before a show, just like every mountain of Odyssey essays in the winter, just like every week of meal planning and buying and preparing, things get done. But, just now, just today, the trees are pretty thick, and there's no forest in sight.

So, I write this post because... Because I need to tell myself that being scared of this transition isn't something to be ashamed of. Because it's okay that I'm still breastfeeding not necessarily because I enjoy it but more because I'm grateful that I have the supply to save us the cost of formula. Because I can be smitten with the little girl napping in the next room while still dreading the thought of putting her to bed by myself most nights. Because I need to know--and I need other moms to know--that it's okay to be frustrated and scared and wondering how you got here even when this is the life you prayed for and dreamed of for so many distressing years.

These are neither the first nor the last tears I'll shed over transitions in our family--I know that. But, for me, they are significant today, so I'm sharing them with you.

Because it's all part of our journey.