The first night home from the hospital with our baby daughter, “bedtime” rolled around. What should we do? Paul and I pajama-ed up, and pajama-ed up tiny Charlotte, and we all went to bed - us in our bed, and she in her little crib next to our bed.
Paul was asleep in five minutes, but Charlotte was not. She was wide awake, squirming and then wailing. I picked her up and brought her into her room. We sat on the couch, her little body perched on my thighs, and we just….looked at each other. I had no idea what to do next. She was wide awake, content, but just peering at me with her big brown eyes, as if I was gradually coming into focus for her. We sat there forever, just staring at each other. I had no idea what to do next.
I always wanted to be a mother. And I always wanted a girl. And I feel really grateful that it came to be, and we now have a 14-year-old Charlotte.
But the weirdest thing about becoming a mother at 38 was how it caused me to get serious about me. About what I was doing with my life. Because someone was watching me.
Less than two years after that night, I quit my job and entered a demanding graduate program, which had long been my dream. I was able to do this because my partner fully supported me and committed to co-parenting our daughter - and, I still had access to the child care center at the university. I studied, I grew, I examined - and most important to me, I started writing again.
Now I teach undergraduates at Vanderbilt, which gave me the flexibility to continue working on my creative pursuits. But it’s hard, right? It’s hard to make time for the things that feed us, even when they feel so essential to us.
One night not long ago, Charlotte perched in a chair across from me in our living room. It was late - Paul was asleep. Once again we peered at each other. But this time there were words. She asked me why I hadn’t completed my creative project. She challenged me, suggesting that I was overthinking and overplanning it, that I needed to just sit down and finish.
In that moment I saw how much she needed me to finish my writing project. She needed to know that I could do it, because she is also a creator. She needs me to do the work, so that she can know that she too can do the work.
I am a creator. I am raising a creator, who is also my creative conscience. The most important thing about motherhood to me is the way it forced me to be honest with myself about who I am and what I want out of this one precious life. Because there is someone watching me.