{"id":28725,"date":"2018-12-31T17:29:43","date_gmt":"2018-12-31T22:29:43","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/nosidebar.com\/?p=28725"},"modified":"2018-12-31T17:29:48","modified_gmt":"2018-12-31T22:29:48","slug":"motherhood-slowed-me-down","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/nosidebar.com\/motherhood-slowed-me-down\/","title":{"rendered":"How Motherhood Slowed Me Down"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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It\u2019s just after 1:00 p.m. My three-year-old daughter and I make the slow walk from her school back to our home. It is a walk that takes me seven minutes alone, but with her, we take about a half hour. It\u2019s filled with questions: What\u2019s that flower? What\u2019s under that pile of leaves? Why is that man walking?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This is her time. A time to meander and to not be pushed. A space to become fully immersed in that timeless state of childhood that I am sad to admit is not possible in all parts of her day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Such as the morning. On the way to school, I push her in a stroller. We are expected to be there at a certain time (a deadline about which I seem to be the only one who cares). We move faster in the stroller. But on the way home, we have no deadlines. So I let her pause me. We walk under the amber rays of the afternoon sun. I join in her wonder of what these flowers and leaves and walking men are all about.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I didn\u2019t always value such slow walks. In fact, for the near decade when I lived in New York City, I prided myself on my fast pace of walking<\/a>. Even striding along in heels I could outpace most people hustling from one part of their packed schedule to the next. I was terribly impatient then, prone to outbursts if tourists blocked my path by daring to pause and look up at the forest of buildings.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And then I decided I wanted to get pregnant. I approached this with the same attitude I had used for the rest of my life. It was a goal. Here were the steps I needed to reach it. But while I could bulldoze my way through everything else in my life, my ovaries simply would not budge.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This process of getting pregnant forced me to strip many things from my life. I left my marriage, my fast-paced career, and many toxic friends. I stood naked without identity or purpose. It was the darkest, most difficult time I have ever experienced in my life. But I am grateful for it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And then, two years later, Leonie came. Born on a cold March night after 52 hours of labor, her introduction made me question everything I had assumed about the pace of life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I choose to stay in for two weeks after her birth, and I never imagined it would be so hard. I was pressed into a chair by a little suckling babe who wanted nothing but to fall asleep at my breast. I was forced to be still. Sometimes I didn\u2019t have my phone, computer, or a book nearby. I literally did nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But with her on my lap, the idea of doing nothing became entirely redefined.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Doing nothing meant watching my breastmilk turn a tiny babe into a chunky yearling.
<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Doing nothing meant silly songs that made me feel sweet and playful.
<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Doing nothing meant witnessing every tiny step of her growth, from the first time she picked her head up to her first bite of solid food.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Doing nothing was everything.<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I learned to mark my day by her schedule of naps and meals. I only accepted social engagements that wouldn\u2019t cause us unnecessary stress. My career simply became another expression of who I am, but it was no longer all of me. My husband and I spent our evenings at home, writing, reading, or studying. With this shift, I settled into an earlier bedtime, waking before dawn, and consistently starting each day with two-hour practice of yoga and meditation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I found myself releasing the impatience that once defined me. I found myself softening, caring less about planning my next big vacation or career move and more about living life in the presence of her daily growth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My childless friends thought I was a hermit. Some tried to drag me out of the house as if I was a princess locked in a tower. Sure, a night away is nice, but it can\u2019t replace the feeling of my daughter laying her sweet head on my chest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My old New York City self laughs when I tell her that our family recently moved from the U.S. to a small Mexican pueblo of 8,000 people. Here our simplicity has been lifted to an entirely new level. We walk more, passing abuelas<\/g> leading burros carrying loads of firewood on their backs. With just a few restaurants in town, we eat at home most of the time, sitting down together — even when we have to get our daughter to school on time. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Here, a sense of spaciousness has replaced the old restlessness, and it suits us quite well. Now, I relish a slow walk after school with my daughter, exploring the world from her curious eyes. Mine has become a slow, lovely life, and I credit my daughter with giving me what I never knew I wanted.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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