You know that saying about the road to Hell? Yeah, well I had all sorts of good intentions after my long period of radio silence of getting back into my regular blogging habits, but ... I got a little derailed by a full-on couple of weeks, which have been personally capped by the likelihood of losing my job (it has been ‘disestablished’ under a current proposal for a new organisational structure, which is due to be finalised at the end of May) and a bout of lurgy that took me back to my sick-bed just as I was finally getting over that pesky morning sickness. Hmmm, I know, first world problems, right?
To put it in perspective, this was the same fortnight that saw the Boston marathon bombings, a series of bombings in Iraq ahead of provincial elections, the death and funeral of divisive former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, a major industrial accident in Texas and, more positively, the passing of legislation to ensure marriage equality in New Zealand and then France (the 13th and 14th countries to pass such legislation). Among other things. All things considered, being a bit sick, but otherwise reasonably healthy, and still having a pay-check while my organisation settles on and into a new structure seem like things worth being thankful for.
All of this perspective then got me thinking about energy. More specifically, about how to conserve and renew it. Not in the environmental and economic sense of energy sources, whether fossil or renewable, clean, green or fracked-up. Nor in the sense of excess energy that needs to be expended, as in Georges Bataille’s Accursed Share ... or in the case of an over-active toddler.
No, I mean, energy in the sense of the life-force - or lack of it - that each person draws on to get through the day. You know how some days you feel like you can do anything, and if you get a few extra tasks to do, you can take them in your stride, no problem? (I dimly recollect these kind of days). Or some days you just feel so ground down that everything, no matter how small, seems like a chore and an imposition? Objectively, there may be little difference to tell between the kinds of things a person has to do on each of these days. The difference between them lies in the reserves of energy a person can draw on in order to get through them. Those reserves of time and energy can be eroded by any number of things: for example, a decline in physical health, over-committing oneself, lack of support, abuse. On the other hand, they can also be built up: for example, by enjoying your work, having a supportive network of family and/or friends, volunteering, exercising.
Each person occupies a series of roles that require some of this energy: for example, as a family member (and most people occupy more than one role in their families), a friend, community member, person with interests and activities (I hate the word ‘hobbies’), workers and so on. For these roles to be active, each requires some of your time and energy. Most days, it’s a question of making sure those are as in balance as it’s possible for them to be, given the range of other factors going on in people’s lives. Some of these roles are energising: it can be fun to relax with friends or family or to feel like you’ve made a bit of a difference in a piece of work or in community activity. Other roles can suck your energy: a proposed job-restructure is incredibly de-motivating and de-stabilising to an organisation and its workers, even if their jobs aren’t on the line.
One of the things that was absorbing my energy recently was feeling bad that I wasn’t able to contribute to the care of my daughter while I was experiencing morning sickness in the way that I had before I got pregnant. In order to get out the door in the morning, my husband and I had previously split the jobs that needed to be done to do this. Even though it was obviously great that my husband took over nearly all the toddler-related wrangling while I was sick, I felt bad that this was the case. I also felt bad that the increased level of care he gave her meant that she increasingly turned to him if she was upset or wanted something, or started saying things like ‘I don’t want my mummy’ when she passed by on her way to breakfast. (Sidenote: this was also the period when she started saying things like ‘I don’t want my feet’ so I didn’t take her words too much to heart, even though they stung a little.)
It was while thinking about energy and how much each role needs, that I started to think more about the new role that I was (and am) assuming: that of mother-to-be. Not that anyone was accusing me of malingering or anything and my sense of feeling-bad was entirely self-imposed, but I realised that I hadn’t yet made the mental switch to the fact that I am now no longer ‘just’ the mother of one child. That second child might not yet be born, but it was definitely making its presence felt and demanding energy from me. And I am currently the only one who can provide that energy. While I was struggling to keep my breakfast down, I was also growing a foetus and a placenta, and various other parts of my body were changing too to accommodate them. Thought about this way, the energy my husband is directly investing in the second child is minimal at present, even as the energy he is putting into the care of the first is increasing. This shifting of energy, of trying to find the ideal balance between all my (and our) roles, is only going to become more necessary once the baby is actually born.
In one sense, this is all kind of obvious. But, for me, it actually required me to sit down and think about how and where I use my energy to realise that feeling bad about being unable to care for my daughter in the way I’d like while having ‘morning’ sickness is a waste of time and energy. Not least because she doesn’t care that I feel bad that I didn’t get her up in the morning, she only cares that I get her up in the morning or, if I don’t, that someone else does. So, instead, I have come to feel glad that she is spending more time with her dad in the mornings, that I have a husband who’s happy to step up, and that admitting to myself that I don’t have the unlimited energy resources of a fictional Superwoman is both a good thing and a good way to embark on this latest stage of motherhood.
