Home with Maia.

Maia is napping right now after a more-challenging-than-usual night of sleep. Perhaps she's going through a growth spurt? Our longest stretch of sleep was about four hours long, which is significantly shorter than what we've had lately.

Anyway, I was eating breakfast and thinking about what we're going to do today (go outside, for sure--spend some time walking around downtown?), and I thought I'd take a moment to reflect on being home with Maia these past three months (and for the next several to come). Staying home with her has been one of the most significant decisions I've ever made (one that took a few years of planning for B and me), and I think I have a bit of "material" now upon which to pause and reflect. But first, before I do so, I must inject my voice into the so-called "Mommy Wars" debate by saying this: to the parents out there who might be reading this blog who've made other decisions, I am speaking of my personal experience and what is best for our family. Many of my moral and political beliefs arise from the idea that what's right for me need not be right for you (and vice versa!), so please do read this with that caveat in mind.

Despite the fact that I've spent the last decade of my life trying to find the professional path that's best for me (and I finally did find it in teaching), I have been profoundly satisfied by the day-to-day life of raising a child thus far. This has been a bit unexpected for me, because I love the feeling of being intellectually challenged by my work. What I didn't expect, however, were the intellectual, physical, and spiritual challenges of raising a child. I knew I'd go through brand-new emotions during this whole endeavor, but who knew I'd have to stretch my brain in these fascinating new ways?

Well, on second thought, perhaps I did know on some level: perhaps there was a reason lurking behind my insistence on being home at least for this first year. I have to give myself credit for my stubborn thinking in this instance, because I honestly do not believe that I would have been capable of giving my full intellectual, physical and emotional energy both to Maia and a classroom of kids this year. Now, could someone insist that I'm selling myself short here? Maybe. But I know myself. At this moment, I'm reading three books on raising a baby (one on nursing, one on "babyhood" in general, and a third on "mindful parenting"). I'm trying to keep up with Maia's developmental milestones and daily changes as best I can. And I'm trying to take care of myself, too, by eating good food and walking every day (now that it's warmer) and reading a book (Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking) that has nothing to do with babies.

Actually, one of those three parenting books has given me a quote that I've carried with me in my mind a lot lately: "In these days of good contraception, world overpopulation, and increased opportunities for women to make full lives without children and/or partners, there is a moral obligation to choose carefully whether or not to have a child. There is then a moral obligation to rear the children we do choose to have as well as we can" (Penelope Leach). Now, I could have a vigorous debate about the scope of this quote--to whom does it apply?--but I'll leave that aside for now. I know that it applies to me, and so I've given her words a ton of thought. I know how I handle stress. I know how I learn. I know what situations in life are particularly trying for me. And I know that, for me, "doing the best I can" for our child means being here at home with her. And yes, I also know that we're profoundly lucky that it's financially possible for us (in part because of major changes we've made to the way we spend money).

I've thought a lot about what it means for me professionally to be home these days rather than in a classroom. It isn't a topic that's free of stress or concern in my mind. I read the other day about an idea called "sequencing" one's life, in which temporary stay-at-home parenthood is one step along the road. This notion has some appeal for me, simply because I know very well that I do want to work outside of the home again someday in the not-too-distant future. This idea of sequencing is one that appeals to me because it doesn't present one's career path as a straight line that can't be interrupted. I'm in one of those careers that isn't particularly cutthroat--once you have a job in a public district, you're usually pretty secure there (with layoffs and building changes taken into account). That's particularly true after tenure. So I'm very fortunate in that there's not really a "ladder" to be climbed in teaching--in that everyone is fighting for the next promotion, the next raise, the next account--and I also will spend my life working with people who made the similar decision to be home for a while. And I really believe that I'm doing the best I can for my "would-have-been" students by being here with Maia now; I don't think I could have given a classroom of kids what they would have needed from me this year.

Hmmm. The English major in me repeatedly re-reads and edits what I've already written, which I just did. I hope so much I don't sound preachy or dogmatic here. Perhaps your reaction is to say: "You sound like you're trying to talk yourself into something!" Please know that I'm really, really not. Being home with Maia right now was one of the three best decisions that I've made in my life (along with marrying Brian and becoming a teacher), and I think I have as much peace with this decision as I possibly can. This doesn't mean that I don't ask questions about it, and wonder how it will change things later.

I could go on forever. I won't. :)