Episode 6: End of Experiment

Mike and Liz share what they've learned by the end of maternity leave.

Transcript

MIKE
Week 6. Aaaaaahhhhhhhh.... Showers... Am I right? I could just live in here. Liz says I do. Thinks I do. Sometimes. But who needs a planet when you can have space to think, breathe, and just... ah..... Okay. So I don’t really mean that. We need the planet obviously. But why does it have to be at the expense of shower time. Why is water so soothing? And before I know it it’s been 20, 30 minutes and I’m just... Showering. Must have needed it. Right? Not physically; I mean my BO’s not that bad, but mentally, ok? Space to just be.

Why does whenever I choose to shower have to be at the expense of someone else? It used to be... It’s not just my time anymore. But I can’t think about that. I don’t. The vapors get in my brain or something, and even though I go in with the best intentions, “This time I’ll take ten minutes, just a quick shower honey, I promise!” It’s always the same. Her with a stop watch. ‘40 minutes it’s a record!’ She says when I get out.

40 minutes. I don’t take 40 minutes.

Always.
It shouldn’t be that big a deal. We all need to shower. We shouldn’t have to beg for it. But when she’s alone with him all day and then I come home and take an hour long shower. I get it ok. But I also don’t know how to fix it and that’s the worst part of fatherhood. Every single choice I make affects someone else. That wasn’t true before. I mean I had Liz, but—— It’s like I just keep adding requirements on my time and... what if I just want to do something? Can I anymore? Is it wrong to want to have a portion of my life that is just mine? Or am I selfish because I don’t factor in those around me? Sometimes.

I’m a dad now. I wanted to be. Changes have been and will be made. They have to be. It’s not like I want to be single without kids anymore. That’s not it. My mind is willing, but... I’m weak. I give in. I mean, I’m not... weak, but going by my actions, reviewing the evidence... I am. I want to be me. And... I hate to admit it but showers over 30 minutes long are definitely the standard for me. Is that weakness? I’m taking time for myself. You have to care for yourself in order to care for others. But when my days are filled with me to the point that I don’t see my wife and kid... When does taking time for me stop being smart and crosses into being selfish? I never thought of myself as selfish. You know, before the baby. I shared as a kid. I was one of those kids who would rather be buried in his book or video game rather than really be anywhere else, but I never minded anyone joining me. I’d invite people over to play or I’d loan books. I didn’t like super seek it out, but I wasn’t opposed to it either. I planned at least half of Liz and my dates. I buy groceries, do laundry, it’s not all on her. I just don’t count what I do. The last time I did the laundry...? I don’t know. But I was at the store yesterday!

I don’t know if my wife has incredibly high standards of parenthood or if mine are just incredibly low or—— maybe our brains are just different okay? Like she can constantly be thinking about the implications of all of her choices on other people, and driving herself insane, and meanwhile I’m stuck in like the stacks of the library carefully lifting one piece of paper, one piece of data at a time, unable to comprehend all of the bins at once. So I step into the shower and that’s literally all my brain can handle. Like some sort of vacuum chamber. Shower. Done. Oh, I have a family. Uh...

I hate that fathers, and kind of men in general, are depicted as cave men on TV. I’m not slow okay? I’m not less evolved. I’m just... I’ve got to figure this out.

We are all weak. We are all human. We are all going to have these challenges. Men and women. But when a guy has a baby on TV it’s all fumbling and grumbling and passing the baby off. Like, it seems like a shock that they have a kid at all or to have to help. That’s not... what I’m saying. I’m not—— I want to be a father. I’m actively trying to be a father. But, and it kills me, I am my own worst enemy. I want to be there, but showering, sleeping, reading... They are so attractive, I just want to give in and—— I didn’t think it would be this hard to carve out time for myself. Or that I needed so much. Or wanted. Is it want or need? And who has the time to sort through that.
I don’t even want to think about the problem. It’s my shower time, why should I have to consider others? That sounds bad, but I should be able to shower. That’s what I want her to do! So I should just do that.

I think part of it is that as Dad, I am so much more detached from the physical experience of raising a child. I mean, at this age it’s eat, sleep, and poop, so physical. And 1/3 of that is all mom if you’re breastfeeding. Liz thinks I’m crazy, wanting to change more diapers, get spat on, carry all the stuff she’s been lugging around by herself the whole time, but it makes it feel real, you know? Not a step removed. You know, I could play Sims or something if I didn’t want the in-real-life experience. Plus, the ‘my son sprung a leak all over me right before work’ or ‘in the middle of the mall’ stories are the best kind of stories. There was this one time, where Liz wanted me to take him to the changing table in the bathroom but we were running late to meet up with my parents at a restaurant so we stopped at a bench, right there in the middle of the mall. “It’ll be quick’ I said. Right? So I’m doing the diaper and all of a sudden, you know, he springs a leak. But I mean, it was like a leak of fire hydrant proportions! (Laughs) Of course the wipes were at the bottom of the diaper bag and we dig through that. Meanwhile I’m stopping the flow with my shirt... It didn’t take too long before a whole crowd and mall security were standing over us. We didn’t make the restaurant. Good times.

I’m there, even though I can’t be a lot of the time. And maybe it comes across as slapstick three stooges-esque or that I’m at a Homer Simpson level of evolution, but it’s everything to me, because it is physical, tangible evidence that I’m there and will be there no matter what. I will know that and he will know that. And she will too. I also think time is relative: slow for her, fast for me. I step into the shower and before I know it it’s been a half hour and time that could be spent with them has melted away under the water. Meanwhile she’s checking the clock every minute and therefore time moves slower than it’s ever moved. I know I am weak. That has to be something right? I mean it’s more than just pig-headedly continuing to assert that nothing is wrong and not wanting to help at all. At least I know. I acknowledge it is a problem and if it isn’t dealt with, I don’t think things will just stay the same, I think it will get worse. I mean I’m asking for someone else, someone who is also struggling, to pick up my slack and that’s just... I just don’t think of that, you know, in the moment when it’s happening. I don’t want to hurt anyone, especially her. Especially Liz. But wanting to change... that’s got to mean something, ‘cuz sometimes that’s all I can do where I am, right now. Just because I can’t, or I haven’t overcome this weakness yet, my want for long showers, sleep, whatever, that doesn’t mean I don’t want to or I can’t. I can. I just don’t want to push her too far either.

I have to be able to become strong enough to match my want. I’m just, knowing myself, I—— I’m hesitant? Conscious? I guess a little afraid that I’m just too accustomed to long showers or too apathetic about changing. That it won’t happen, because I am too weak. That I won’t be able to overcome it. We won’t get past this. Yeah.

That’s enough.    Turns off the tap. It’s time to stop. I can change. If I want to. Grow.

LIZ
Week 6. 
The experiment is complete. Baby is in daycare and I am back at work.

Silence. Silence used to be most of my moments but now it is… elusive. Drowned out by the hypersensitivity, the cascade of ambient noise, the stream-of-consciousness-not-stopping-for-air brain mechanisms looking for some way to entertain. Even in this silence, I am aware of the squeak of my chair, the sound of fingers tip-tapping out meaning on countless keyboards, the hum of the air as the system readjusts itself. Things I would point out to my son if he were here. What did I think of before him? What filled the moments of silence?

Checking a structure. Taking measurements. Filling out a survey. Plugging it into an equation. Calculating the solution. Providing the data for my senior engineer, who will make a greater whole work safely and efficiently. Yeah, it’s important. Inspecting aging overpasses. Helping thousands of people slough through traffic without worrying about the ground crumbling out from under them. Or under me. Providing space for me to think about something other than diapers and sleep. To live. But... Did you see how he was tracking my finger? Sticking his tongue out? And smiling not just when he farted?! He’s just starting to respond to me. How many other milestones am I going to miss while I spend my eternity of minutes projecting the effects of a newly discovered 3 centimeter crack and calculating the proper course of action? Will he be rolling over by then? Crawling? Walking?

Living. Will he be living? While I’m——

I’ve never been so aware of moments. It’s like I thought I have been losing thought, but maybe I have been discovering it. Seeing the small things. Like how when I pick the baby up in the morning he holds my gaze. I swear he snuggles closer to me. Now, I notice when I’m alone how quickly I switch on music or a podcast. Like I need something there. I feel the lack of my child’s hand curling around mine as I go throughout the day without him. Maybe seeing him discover has allowed me to be more able to discover in my own life. I notice more. 
Ever since coming back— It’s like leave never happened. It’s all ‘jump back in’ and ‘where’ve you been?’ When I start to share some of my life, my new baby-centric universe, coworkers change the subject. They steer the conversation to themselves, TV, politics, normal stuff, things we used to discuss and my brain just... shuts off. Have my interests changed? I don’t think so. I’m still me. More so even. It’s just... It seems... boring. I used to gladly, even excitedly come in every day to sit in front of a desk, a computer screen to calculate. I loved, I love discovering a problem and running through every scenario, option, and equation until I find the solution. I love that there is a solution. I drove to the inspection sites, measured, came back. Sat and imagined. It seemed thrilling, an adventure, purposeful. It was a good existence. But now... after leave, there’s something missing. It’s... it was never lonely before. To just be myself. It was never impersonal, mind-numbing, it never seemed... empty? Selfish? To pursue my passion. To decide my path. To take time for me. That’s really what I’m doing at work. Trying to do. I’m lucky enough not to need this job. I mean we need it. We aren’t making, you know, beaucoup bucks. But, we have enough and... my pay barely covers what it costs to put the baby in day care. So wouldn’t it be more prudent and more right to stay home? But what about me? Space to be... me. Where did that go? Everything with the baby was personal, new, but also alone. Am I more of a person here or at home?

Or is that not the point? Am I supposed to not exist in my existence? Is that the goal? To give everything I have and am to others? But, you need to have something in order to give it. Right? Did I go into this too young before I had a chance to know myself?  Parenthood, I mean. Not... this is when people go into engineering. You get an E.I.T., Engineering in Training out of undergrad, find a senior engineer to mentor you, and jump in. But maybe... did I jump in too early? Now when I’m back at work and finally have the chance to be myself, talk about something other than my baby—— why don’t I? I love my baby. I love being his mom, more than I thought I would in some ways, but the whole time I was there with him, I was missing being here... creating and dreaming. I want to build structures. My heart used to... want more? That’s not the word, but it is? Is there anything else in my heart anymore? What do I want? Why is it so hard to hear now? I find... I’m looking more to others, not me, and... when I bring the baby up, something he did, something we are learning together, people aren’t really interested. I mean the pictures are cute. Let’s be honest who doesn’t like a good baby picture? But I guess seeing the same kid over and over gets... old? It’s my life, not theirs. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m hypersensitive, or maybe I don’t assert myself because I see myself as something lesser when I’m Liz the Mom giving everything she is, loving as she’s never loved before, losing herself in someone else, as opposed to Liz the Engineer, focusing on herself and her dreams, Liz becoming the bridge builder, self-stabilizing. Liz the Mom walking around with my son, having the same one sided conversations. “Look at the tree or the car, or should we go to the park?” Doing nothing, but still feeling complete, valued, whole. Like my whole soul is filled with the knowledge that I won’t regret a single thing. Moments later, I do. Because I still want to do something others will acknowledge. I need to contribute to the world at large, not just myself and my family. But why isn’t my family enough for me?
For some, it’s not an either/or decision. I can be a mom and exist. Right? I mean, I do. I don’t know that I could stay home full time, let my brain melt as I use every ounce of my power to come up with entertainment a surprisingly picky one-and-a-half-month-old would enjoy. I do want to think about real issues sometimes not just “oh what would keep him from crying? What stage does he need to be at? Why am I already failing?”

But at the same time I want to be with him. And how do you explain that to people? Or even to yourself? He will get used to daycare, even ask to go there instead of being with me. He won’t even miss me. It’s where he should be headed to be independent. But at six weeks? I don’t know. You should hear him. Every day we complete the goodbye ritual, I say, ‘I will be back after nap, I love you, Mommy loves you.’ Kiss and go and... a wail that rips my heart in half. Lifting one foot after the other has never been so hard. And no looking back. Show him this is ok. This is normal. But when will it be? Can it ever be? Do I want it to be?

Could I find myself if I were a Mom full time... Where would I be? Buried in diapers and sleep struggles, would I be able to love myself each day? It’s not... I’m not passionate about it. I see myself disappear. I thought coming back I’d... I don’t know... find the balance? Like it would just click. I miss the person I was, and I also miss the person the everyday struggle of new mom is encouraging me to become. I just... I feel like I’ve gotten lost somewhere. I need to rediscover... joy. Purpose. Me. I see it in both places. With the baby and at work. It takes active effort, more than I ever perceived before having my baby, to be me. I need to shut out the noise. The people, the societal expectation, my parents, his parents. What does my heart want? Who am I? Who do I want to be? I mean, that will drive every decision. I make my life. I am me. But who is that? Where is she? What is right? And... I can’t help but think... does this one choice to come into work every day make work my primary focus? If I choose to be a working mother does that say I care more about me and my status, my appearance to others? “I’m a stay-at-home mom” doesn’t get much more than a lot of... “What do you do all day?” And to tell the truth, I don’t really know. I was gone for 6 weeks and I couldn’t tell you what happened. We survived, I guess. Then, in my worst moments, my mind pushes me to question if I’m even a mother at all. Because I’m not there. I’m here.
I know. Right?

But,
If I let another person make all of the choices, if I spend a majority of my time on my passion, but not my little person, am I still his mother? I chose the childcare, the philosophy, the people, but I don’t make the decisions. Even if I get a nanny and define the plan down to the very last detail... It still isn’t me. What makes you mom? Do you have to be there 24/7? Mine was and it—— When did she care for herself? I don’t know if I ever saw. I’m sure I saw her take time for herself, but I didn’t recognize it. She was ours. Always. For better or for worse, with us in every moment. But Mike’s mom worked and she’s still—— she’s his mom. But she also had her own time. I don’t think Mike missed having her there. But was she thinking about them or herself? Or what allowed her to work? And why does she need to be allowed to work? Why can’t I just allow her to make the choice she made? The choice I am making? And maybe her three kids were just easier, less needy than my one. Maybe he’ll get easier if I stay away. But on the other hand, maybe I’m the only one who can help him. I just... I’m torn. I’m honestly torn. They just need to get the right cloning technology and then I could really be at two places at once. That’s what I want right? Torn in two either way. To work and miss the baby’s life or to stay home living and discovering, but also allowing the loneliness and frustration to mount until I explode at random people? To take care of oneself and in so doing be more effective in the few minutes spent with my son, or to take care of one’s son and earn the title of mother completely slash see the miracle of his growth? Or... so many questions.

The Shower Principle. Gaining insight when you aren’t actively pursuing it, when you are distracted doing something else. Is my passion, my time away working the shower that makes me a better mother, or is my kid the shower that inspires my passion, helping me to see, notice, and discover more? What is the focus? Where is my focus? I need a shower.