The Mother and the Scholar

Everyone warned me that life would change when I had a baby.  They said it would never be the same.  It's true; I took on a new role and identity.  However, if you look closely, you'll see that I am still the same person, just growing.

Reconciling who I "was" and my role as a mother has been a tough balancing act.  Before I had Eliot, a large part of my identity was wrapped up in my attempts at becoming a scholar, or a professional student, you could say.  I read, wrote, taught, and took a lot of classes.  During my Master's degree program, I probably wrote (and heavily revised) about 500 pages (or more).  About 120 of those pages made up my thesis.  From there, I moved on to my doctorate classes.  I took all of the coursework and some extra classes in a year and a half.  Then I had Eliot.

In January 2011, I had two classes, the comprehensive exam, and the dissertation standing between me and my doctorate.  I was relieved to take one sub-term off of school so that Eliot was two months old when I stepped back into the education game.  It was hard.  I would do school work while nursing or holding him over my shoulder.  I learned to type with one hand.  I made it through with the support of my husband and many sleepless nights.  Sometimes I would get Eliot to sleep at nine and work until he woke up for his first feeding at eleven.  And then do the same thing until he woke again at one.  And so on.  I was used to it, though, from my Master's degree program and have since gotten very lazy because Eliot sleeps through the night--and I do too.

Holding a sleeping baby while grading

As an online English instructor, I have a lot of students returning to college after a sizable break.  These students have "real world" problems that my residential freshmen (when I was a grad assistant) often did not.  Instead, these returning students have full-time jobs, unconventional schedules, children, and other commitments.  Before I had Eliot, I didn't understand what they were going through all the way.  Now, though, I do.  I mean, my struggles with writing my dissertation while arguing with Eliot about why we can't watch "choo choo" on my laptop at the same time are nothing compared to what many of my students overcome, but I get it.  My little glimpse of trying to balance it all is enough to understand.

I don't write as much or what I want to write like I did back then.  I don't read what I want to read as much either.  Currently, I have the Bible and New Stories from the South (the 2010 edition.  HA!) next to my bed.  If I'm lucky, I'll read a short story in the morning before I start working or researching until Eliot wakes up.  However, that part of me, the attempt at becoming a scholar, is still there.

Part of achieving this balance was my decision to go easy on myself.  I plowed through undergrad in three years.  I went straight on to my M.A.  Then I took a lot of classes in a short period of time for my doctorate, never taking a summer off.  If the price of my sanity was taking my time through the dissertation (like, taking a year and half or two opposed to trying to finish it in six months), that was fine.  I didn't need to hurt my head or burn out over unrealistic deadlines that I was pushing on myself.  For the first time in my college career, I needed to give myself a break.  I'll still probably finish this running-in-circles project before I'm 27 anyway.

Then there are times that I feel that I am not fully filling my role as a mother.  Eliot will probably never understand that a literature review must be continually updated with new research.  He won't get why my laptop can't always play cool movies or why I get angry when he exits out of a student's paper.  He will not comprehend that I actually would rather be playing cars with him on the rug than trying to figure out which learning styles instrument best suits my study.  One day, though, I think he'll appreciate that I tried to be the best for him and also the best for my personal dreams, educational aspirations, and career goals.  I hope that inspires him, too, knowing that if his mother was able to balance it somehow, then he certainly can do whatever he hopes to with the support of his parents.