Yesterday my husband asked me if, after 9 months of juggling
part-time teaching and being a stay-at-home parent, if I thought I could ever
do the stay-at-home thing full time. Just a hypothetical question. We were
cuddling with the little guy while he was napping and the world seemed so quiet
and peaceful and I know we both wished we could have moments like that every
day—a respite from the stress of academia with the little one who won’t be
little for long.
I have mad respect for stay-at-home parents. I’m wracked
with guilt because I want to love every moment of what I know are such short
years. I want to cuddle him and laugh with him and walk around the room with
him while Disney songs play in the background. I want to savor every
peek-a-boo, every giggle, every cry, every smile. And I do, I love them all. I
live for those moments.
So what’s the problem? That’s the confusing part. I love
being with him, and I’m rarely bored. But a tenure-track academic job requires
my physical presence about 12 hours a week—in class and office hours—but expects
me to be working—on articles, conference presentations, grant proposals,
committee assignments, not to mention grading and class prep—for an
indeterminate amount of time, which essentially means every other waking hour
and probably a few sleeping ones. And the thing is, I love my job. I love my research,
I love teaching, I have amazing students who seem more like family, and I feel
so lucky to have my dream job in a great department. So where does loving my
son and loving my job get me?
Answer: A one-way ticket to Guiltsville, population me. And
probably every other Professor Mom. And quite a few Professor Dads.
I often resent the academics who can still determine their
own work schedules, who can spend all day in the office and not feel like a
meeting or lunch date is eating up their carefully carved out work time. I know
it’s not their fault, and I don’t begrudge them their time or their success.
But that doesn’t keep me from feeling resentful. And then I feel bad because it
sounds like I don’t like being with my little guy, but I know I still have a
job to do, but is my job really more important than my family, and what does it
say about our society that we ask such an asinine question anyway …
Guilt spirals. This I know.
I can’t imagine how I’ll feel when my son starts daycare in
two weeks. The idea of not spending the majority of my day with him after 9
months of being at home is, well, saddening seems like an understatement, but
it’s the best I’ve got at the moment. It makes me feel lonely, like I’m
abandoning him even though I know he’ll have excellent care and other children
to play with and I know he’ll thrive in such a social environment. But when I
think about his beautiful, smiling face that I have the privilege to see all
day (and honestly I do feel so incredibly lucky that his smile is for me) and
realize that it will be directed at someone else, I feel so empty inside.
And then we’re back to the guilt.
If know how much I’ll miss him, why can’t I just turn off
the professor part of my brain and enjoy the moments we have? I keep telling myself
that this is what I need to do—make the work time count so that I can turn it
off when I get home. And on my better days, this works. Today was not one of my
better days. It’s funny how writing a book proposal can make you and your ideas
feel so small, and then that little face can look up at you and make you feel
so big and important, and yet you still end the evening with a glass of wine
and a nagging sense that you haven’t accomplished enough.
Which brings me back to my husband’s question. I thought
about it, and finally answered that, while I often grow frustrated during my
time at home because I know I have work to do, when I’m at work I miss him and
constantly take 5-minute Instagram breaks to look through old photos. I love my
son and I love my job, and while not working would alleviate the guilt of
feeling that my attentions are divided when I’m with him, I wouldn’t be wholly fulfilled
without my job.
A person can attend any number of academic seminars that
discuss how to balance work and family life, and I’m sure they’re very useful.
But I wonder if, underneath it all, we just have to realize that guilt will be
a part of our lives? Especially if we love our families and our jobs, will we
ever feel like we’re good enough at both? I think this question is bigger than
academia. I’m pretty sure all parents (working and stay-at-home) might feel
this way. Maybe what no one tells you is that you can balance work and family
in any number of ways, but you’ll always feel a twinge of guilt. Maybe the
trick is making the choices the give you control of the guilt—not working to
rid yourself of it completely, but working to make the guilt the inevitable
outcome of your good choices. I can’t be in two places at once. I can’t spend
all of my time with my son and at my job. I will always wish I could. But guilt
can’t dictate my choices. It has to be the other way around.
I’m not sure if that comforts me or not.
It makes me sad to think that at the end of your meanderings and soul searching here you believe that feeling guilty is just part of it. And maybe it is, I know most working parents I've been around feel that way. And maybe I will too, but as of right now I don't. Is it because I'm in the early weeks if being a mom still? I don't know and come late August I guess we will find out.
ReplyDeleteBut it does make me wonder why moms (in particular) feel guilty if they aren't with their kids every second or miss a smile or word or milestone. What makes us think we are doing something wrong? I wonder too if the guilt comes from our own desire to always be there or some societal pressure to feel that way?
Just some ramblings on a very key topic you raise that seems to effect all parents in some way. And if my response makes no sense I will blame it on the 4 am feeding that has me up right now :).
That's a great question: Why do I think it's a part of it? I've been reading The Mommy Myth, which is about the media glorification of a sort of retrograde motherhood--which probably hasn't been helping my mood, come to think of it :-) --but it has led me to wonder why I can be so critical of the rhetoric of motherhood but still experience the feelings of inadequacy much of it can produce.
ReplyDeleteAnd even if I don't blame media or rhetoric, I know that, as I said, these years are so short. Once you make it through the first rough months (and rough is, I know, an understatement) which seem, at the time, to last forever, everything goes so fast. In some ways, I'm shocked that LG is already 9 months old, and at the same time, I can't believe he's only 9 months old. He has learned and grown so much, and when each day brings new skills and milestones, I am so excited to see them and so worried that I'll miss something. Then we're back to your first question--I'll see so much, why do I worry about missing one thing?
I think if I had to describe my experience of motherhood so far in one word, it would be conflicted. I don't see that as a negative thing. But it is something I can't shake. But then again, was I perfectly content with every aspect of my life before I had a baby? Probably not. Okay, no. Maybe this just adds a level to what was already there.