Turns out babies are perfect for inadvertent pandemic prepping
When I was pregnant, my husband and I took an infant care class in anticipation of caring for our actual infant. As we drove to Alta Bates Summit Medical Center in Berkeley, we'd sing, "Please, please, don't kill the baaaa-by" to the tune of "Don't Eat the Daisies," and then we'd roll into a classroom filled with a few other virtuously healthy expectant couples, secure in our roles as the Goofuses to everyone else's enceinte Gallants.
The class was taught by your typical Rich Hippie Lady, which is to say that we all knew she lived in Berkeley in a beautifully restored Craftsman that she and her husband had picked up for a song back when they were still working the bulghur counter at the organic co-op, she wore a lot of ethically made linen things and chunky necklaces with carnelians the size of chicken eggs, and she prowled around the room with the lithe assurance of a lifelong yogini, saying in her soothing voice, "You're not in control of anything once the baby is here. Just accept that and surrender, surrender, surrenderrrrrr …"
I am constitutionally disinclined to surrender.
Correction -- prior to becoming responsible for eight pounds of person with her own wants and needs, I was constitutionally disinclined to surrender. I stopped being the person who regarded the words "you can't" as the fun prologue to demonstrating that oh, yes, I could. I became the person who paced circles with a restive baby while sing-songing, "Surrender, surrender, surrenderrrrrr …"
When I think back on life with a baby, I recall the mindset we dropped into: Be prepared for anything; accept that the preparations may not be necessary and they may not be enough; do them anyway and hope for the best. Plan, but accept that the plans always change. Have a routine; accept that a schedule requires a level of control you don't have. React, because the immediate circumstances are more important than any long-term plans. It's important to have daily goals; the practice of setting intentions and acting on them matters.
Now imagine trying to maintain that fluidity while knowing that all your workplace schedules and to-dos have to happen because you live in a world with other people who are not taking their advice from a lavender-scented prenatal professional urging them to surrender, surrender, surrenderrrrrr.
It was a terrible sort of liminal period, one in which my brain from the before time -- back when I was in control of my time, in control of my attention, in control of my plans for present and future -- was trying to function in a present where all I could do was remind myself to surrender, surrender, surrenderrrrrr.
It was a temporary state, so long as you're okay with "a few years" being your definition of temporary. Once the baby became a toddler and slept better, once the toddler became a preschooler who only needed one nap a day, once the preschooler got older and could share in things like setting routines and making plans and following through, I felt restored to myself. Better than that, even -- I felt as if my definition of who I was had expanded.
The past few weeks have reminded me very much of how I felt nine and a half years ago, when I was divested of the illusion that I could move through the world on my own terms and pushed into a way of being that required me to be endlessly present, endlessly flexible, endlessly acquiescent to the paring back of expectations and goals.
Perhaps one day this week, you'll find yourself feeling adrift from who you are. I recommend getting up and walking with as much fluidity as you can muster. Prowl with the suppleness of a person who hasn't eaten white sugar in four decades. Imagine the weight of a rope of polished chalcedony stones, heavy against your neck. Imagine the hem of your caftan fluttering against your $60 Yemeni loafers. Breathe in for a count of five, slowly. And on exhale, remind yourself, "Surrender, surrender, surrenderrrrrr."
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FURTHER READING
"These Royal Navy Submariners Know A Thing Or Two About Isolation. Here’s Their Advice." (Buzzfeed, March 23, 2020) -- As a Navy brat whose dad was on submarines, I can assure you, all of this translated to our family life.
"The Most Important Survival Skill for the Next 50 Years Isn’t What You Think" (GQ, September 30, 2018) -- "The most important investment that people can make is not to learn a particular skill—'I'll learn how to code computers,' or 'I will learn Chinese,' or something like that. No, the most important investment is really in building this more flexible mind or personality."
"The American Nightmare" (Psychology Today, March 2011) -- "It's particularly American, an unwillingness to compromise built into our individualism, imagining what our lives are supposed to be," Jean Twenge says. "And when you say I'm always supposed to be excited, then there's a vast underbelly of discontent. It's gotten to a level of delusion."
"An Astonishing Variety of Wildlife Uses This Pennsylvania Log Bridge" (Adventure Journal, March 23, 2020) -- I just think after slogging through some heavy reading about our expectations and how our lives do or don't fulfill them, we can use a five-minute break to marvel at the natural world.
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On the advice of some very wise friends who listened to me moan about my writers' block, then gently asked, "Do you want us to listen or do you want advice?" ... I'm just writing my way out of a block and toward whatever big writing goal will emerge after I've just kept writing for a while. As always, any feedback, questions or suggestions welcome either via email (reply to this) or via Twitter (@lschmeiser).