Becoming Present

This entry takes me back in time to over a year ago when Lucas was about two months old. A very important realization occurred then, and I've told the story countless times, but never in writing. So ... before I forget ... here is my story of becoming present.

I'll begin by backing up even further to my pregnancy, and while we're at it, my entire adult life leading up to parenthood. I had many ideas about the type of mother I'd be and how I would nurture the development of my precious child. As an elementary teacher, I'd formed many judgments about what was going wrong with the parenting of so many of my students. I'm not saying I was right to do this, but this is shaping up to be a full-disclosure blog, so here I am: warts and all. Yes, I was judging other parents. Shame on me.

I knew there had to be some basic premise that was getting missed, and I constantly wondered what that might be. I even went so far as to think I would write a book about this - once I figured it out, of course - and positively change the lives of children and families everywhere. Eventually, I determined that beneath all the different parenting strategies and philosophies, it really came down to presence in each moment. (So instead of a book, I had more of a plaque - and here it is!) Being present keeps us open to inspiration for the best that can happen in any moment. For each parent, the inspiration that comes will be different.

Back in April of 2006, I was pondering this realization and I wrote:

"So how does one stay in a space of inspiration with children? Well, each moment needs to be more important than any other agenda we might have. How do we do this when we have to go grocery shopping, do housework, get to an appointment on time, make dinner, or have a conversation with another adult? This is where I run out of answers. I'll have to wait and find out how I answer that question for myself."

Flash forward to new motherhood. I was sleep-deprived and exhausted, physically and emotionally. I was completely thrown off by how little time I now had to "get things done." I found myself living for Lucas' naps so I could "get things done" and feel some sense of completion and accomplishment. The naps would end and I would feel blame, frustration, and helplessness. I also felt a desperate sense of time slipping by too quickly; of Lucas' infancy disappearing before my very eyes. Motherhood was not the bliss I had expected it to be, and I couldn't figure out what had gone wrong.

What had happened to my lofty intentions of being present in each moment? Of making each moment more important than any other agenda I may have had? Well ...

I forgot.

With all of my very best intentions going into motherhood, I simply forgot about this key piece of perspective. It was a suggestion made by a friend that woke me up from this foggy daze. She suggested I find the joy in each moment. This sounded simple enough - almost trite - but it helped me recognize the confusion of my thinking at that time. I was living for Lucas' naps so I could do important things like laundry? Why was I not living for his waking time, for the joyful smiles and sweet gurglings? How on earth did I come to think a clean house was more important than this?! No wonder it felt like his infancy was passing by so quickly. I wasn't fully present with him while he was awake. I was thinking of all the things that weren't getting done.

This particular epiphany changed everything. Time slowed down as I relished being with my son and absorbed every nuance that I could. Sometimes it felt as though I just didn't have enough sensors in my body to adequately absorb the infinite cuteness and softness of him! I was spending my days laughing instead of brooding. And amazingly, what needed to get done still got done. My house did not dissolve into a disaster zone and we didn't starve. Motherhood really did become the bliss I had hoped it would be. This was the gift of presence, and I will be eternally grateful for the lesson.