It's Just and Adjustment

I considered calling this post, "From 'pink collar' to starching collars."  But let's be honest: I've never starched a collar in my life.  And scrubs don't have collars. 

But this post is about transitions, not about laundry, so give me a moment to adjust my apron and I'll explain.

[Another moment of honesty: I own exactly two aprons and I have no idea where either of them are...  In a box.  Somewhere.  Jenn, stop talking about laundry and share your life.]

Before Jon and I were married, I looked like this:

This poor girl had no idea how to be part of a romantic, Christ-centered relationship.  She had even less of an idea about what it meant to be the wife of a medical student (now resident). 

But when Jon and I started dating, then got engaged, we took some sagely advice to heart and invested a lot of energy in preparing for marriage.  We talked about expectations, we read books, we did pre-marital counseling with an amazing mentor couple from our church, we spoke with other married couples that we admired and asked for advice.  Working on our marriage and learning to operate as a medical family is an ongoing process, but I was SO THANKFUL for all of the great friends and resources to help us during our marital infancy.  

And then we talked about having kids.  Something college Jenn (pictured above), didn't think she would think about until her LATE 20's or early 30's.  God can do radical things with a person's heart:)  Jon and I both wanted children, very sincerely.  So when we found out I was pregnant, we took a similar approach to preparing for baby that we did with marriage.  We talked about expectations, we read books, we subscribed to helpful blogs, we went to childcare classes, we spoke with other parents that we admired and asked for advice, we bought or were gifted with all of the essential baby gear, we practiced diapering and swaddling a large ninja turtle action figure. 

But, of course, no amount of preparation can really prepare you to be a parent.

How many people does it take to change a newborn's first diaper?  Three.  In our case, it took three.  The ninja turtle was way easier--it was silent and motionless.

I didn't need to leave the hospital to realize that I had no idea how I would be the parent I wanted to be for my son.  I confessed to Jon that I stuck around for another night just because I was so terrified of going home and being responsible for keeping our tiny, vulnerable, completely dependent upon me baby alive without a trained health care provider within shouting distance.

Taking our baby home, getting to know each other, learning how to be a family of three took a lot of adjusting.  This is not to say that all of the adjustments caused anxiety, but our routines had changed (dramatically) and we all had to learn what our new routines would look like.  And just when I thought I had some aspect of D's routine down (sleeping, eating, bouncing preferences), he would change things up on me and there were moments where I would find myself back at square one, bouncing an infant and a hair dryer late at night, wondering if all babies changed their routines as often as mine did, or if I was deficient as a mom.      

Eventually, we did find our routines, and I got more comfortable with the idea that these routines would change as our family changed.  Jon's schedule changed monthly, I took a job at another organization, D continued to grow and develop into a happy, energetic little boy, he started attending daycare.  I started counting down the days until I could stay home with him full time before he was even born.  I started making statements like, "I'm just excited that I'll have more time with him, more time to devote to non-work interests."  One friend was kind enough to issue a cautionary, "You know, I found that when I transitioned from being a paid employee to a stay-at-home-mom, I was even busier than I was during a normal work week."  I get it, now.

When we moved to Wisconsin, I was about nine weeks pregnant.  I worked until Thursday, we left on a Sunday and drove for two days, then Jon started work at the hospital on Tuesday.  Prior to leaving Little Rock, Jon and I had discussed our expectations about what life would look like with me staying at home full time, newly pregnant, and working remotely 15 hours per week.  We kept things nice and reasonable, and by reasonable, I mean the expectations were low.  Boxes would take a few weeks to unpack, keep D alive, provide clean laundry and sustenance, keep employer happy with work products.  Apart from those discussions, there was very, very little preparation for stay-at-home-momdom.  'I've been waiting for this opportunity for years!' I thought.  'Now I'll have the chance to do all of those fun, educational things I've been waiting to do with D because I'll have ALL OF THIS FREE TIME to gift to him!'  This train of thought played out like you'd imagine it would in the scene of a painfully predictable movie...  Like the ones where you roll your eyes when someone says, "What could go wrong?"

"I'll finally have TIME to do things that I've been putting off!  I'm going to paint, and blog, and join a book club, and take up zumba, and teach my son Latin..." Somewhere between the morning sickness, the realization that I was actually a 'stay work-at-home-mom,' the changing scope of work and the boxes yet to be unpacked, I began to feel discouraged.  Our first couple of months here were not what I had hoped they would have been in terms of the quantity or the quality of time I spent with D and Jon.  Physically, I felt like I had the flu, peppered with migraines for 10 weeks, which meant I didn't feel like running around outside with the neighbor kids and being particularly social.  I was trying to figure out how to honor 'work day hours' while maximizing time with D.  I was attempting to potty train D.  I was trying to figure out how to make our house look and feel like a home while trying to figure out where, exactly, we would fit the contents of our previous house in a townhouse that was roughly half the amount of space.  I was plopping my son in front of the TV for two hours a day and justifying the screen time by trying to select, 'educational programming,' in order to finish my deliverables (this bothered me the most).  I lamented the hours I spent each week washing dishes by hand.  I made the mistake of perusing Pinterest...  Ladies, Pinterest isn't evil, but it is the worst resource if you find yourself feeling insecure about anything.  In an attempt to be more frugal and domestic, I went all 'Pioneer Woman' and insisted upon making dinners that involved yeast and other labor + time intensive ingredients.  (YEAST?!?  What was I thinking?)  I was setting unrealistic, unhelpful expectations outside of the expectations that Jon and I had discussed and was coming up short on every single one.

Jenn's failed attempt to juggle all areas of life while rooted in circumstances.

***

I've actually uttered the words, 'God doesn't give us more than we can handle.'  I am not convinced of this anymore.  I think there are times when God does give us more than we can handle--think Elijah running 80+ miles for his life after Jezebel puts a contract out on him, sitting exhausted and disconsolate neath a broom tree.  But God extended him mercy by sending an angel that touched him and invited him to, "Arise and eat."  Then Elijah rested, and the angel returned later, saying, "Arise and eat, because the journey is too great for you."   

***

As with each of these transitional periods, I had to take a step back and ask myself if my perspective was rooted in truth or clouded by circumstances.  In this last instance, this question surfaced after I started meeting regularly with an intergenerational women's bible study.  It's comprised of the wives of residents and staff physicians that have come from all over the world.  I met a woman from Iceland the other day!  These women are warm and kind and funny and wise, and after hearing some of their stories, they are some of the strongest, most courageous women I've ever met.  We're currently reading this book, which I recommend.  I love meeting with them each week, and the study has encouraged me prioritize more time with God.  

Truth.  

I had to be reminded that I had started our life in Wisconsin in the wrong order.  I had not taken the time to really pray about: what the transition would look like, comfort for the grief I was feeling about leaving our life in Little Rock, wisdom about shifting my energy and focus from full-time employee to more full-time wife and mom.  Instead, I was in full-tilt Martha mode; preoccupying myself with the appearance of our home, the variety of our meals, and feeling exhausted/stressed that I couldn't balance time between David and work.  So Jon and I had another good conversation on our way back from a restorative trip to Minocqua with our LR friends.  It's always nice to be reassured by Jon.  It was wonderful to see our friends, to let our kids play and to enjoy familiar things.  Then the lady's bible study started up for the Fall and I hit a re-set button, of sorts.  

My being present as a wife and mother means being rooted in truth, even if boxes are waiting to be unpacked.  Building and experiencing an intimate relationship with God means inviting him into my cluttered home, with its dishes in sink and websites not updated and crumbs on the kitchen floor from lunch, with the understanding that He's there to spend time with me to show me the love I can pass onto my family.  Real priorities.  He's not a food critic.  He's not an interior decorator.  He's not a government employee assessing my proposal.  He's a loving father and teacher that shows compassion when we're at the end of our wits; who understands that sometimes we just need to eat and rest in order to be replenished so that we can realize the fulfillment that comes with de-emphasizing the clutter and being present with Him.

We live an abundant life.  Our family is rich in love and family/friends and adjustments.  Have I mentioned adjustments?  These wonderfully uncomfortable, frustrating, overwhelming moments that teach us so much and remind us of the depth of love that God has for us.  I love this part of the adjustment process--the part after all of the weeping and wringing of fists at the Real Simple cleaning checklists where I feel like we're back in that place of security and calm and rest of His love.  I feel like we've begun to find our groove here.  It's a great feeling.

But in 11 days, Jon's schedule is going to change again.  In less than four months, we're going to welcome a new baby into our family.  In nine months, we're going to move to another new city and get one step closer to non-residency life.  Our circumstances are always going to change; we're always going to be adjusting.  And that's ok.  

I'm so thankful that truth is unchanging.