I have a reputation for being pretty independent and dependable. At work, when I told my department leader that I was pregnant (the first time) she said, “I already heard, but I couldn’t believe it. This is going to change you. I can’t wait to see what motherhood does for you.”
Let me start by saying that I don’t think many men hear “I can’t wait to see what fatherhood does for you,” but you might, and even if you don’t you hear it from others, you might wonder to yourself what, if anything, will change about you when you become a father. All this to say, I was really offended by her reaction. Her words implied that I didn’t know myself and that I wasn’t able to reach my full potential without being a mother. To be fair, she was not the only person to say something like this to me. Therefore, I went into parenthood with an open mind and keeping my eyes open for the slightest indication that I was somehow undergoing a change in my personality.
As the pregnancy progressed, my husband and I prepared ourselves to care for a new being, but neither of us felt particularly attached to the fetus wiggling around inside me. I talked to my therapist about it, worried it meant something was wrong with me, convinced that I didn’t actually want to be a parent and that I wasn’t trying hard enough to “change.”
Finally, the night came when it was time to meet Henry. I braced myself for the life-changing event that others were preparing me for and… nothing. I felt nothing. Sure, there was a sense of responsibility to take care of this little being plopped in my arms, and I went through the motions of fulfilling his needs, but I didn’t feel anything else. He was a chore, a job, something that needed to be tended to – something I took seriously, but that’s typical for me. Becoming a mother hadn’t changed me. I felt like I missed something. Like I had been cheated of this magical, life-altering experience.
This was a regular topic in my weekly therapy sessions postpartum. Finally, one day I confessed. I wasn’t actually all that surprised that I didn’t experience a life-altering change of character. Grant and I watched our friends have children. We knew going into it what to expect. While there were surprises in terms of medical science, we had a pretty good handle on what was going to happen and what needed to be done once Henry arrived.
Moreover, Grant and I chose to build our family because we both value family. We are both close with our parents and our extend family. We like spending time with each other, at home, with our dog. Having a child wasn’t going to drastically change or prevent us from living the life we were already living.
Looking back, I’ve come to the conclusion that when someone tells you that having a baby will “change you,” they are telling you a little bit about themselves. Perhaps they didn’t know what to expect in caring for a newborn. Perhaps they viewed themselves as more selfish or irresponsible or flaky before having children. Perhaps they separated their social and home lives. Perhaps they prioritized their social life over their home life. I can see how having a baby would be life-altering if you had any of those characteristics.
I knew who I was going into parenthood and I am mostly the same person after it “happened” to me. That said, I have changed in some ways. Becoming a parent lets me share the feeling of responsibility with someone else. That seems a little obtuse, but here’s what it means.
I started this article noting my independence and dependability. I am dependable to a fault. Nothing falls through the cracks with me and those around me expect that of me and take it for granted. I don’t forget to pay a bill or make a doctor’s appointment or order the dog’s medicine. I just don’t. For those of you like me, you know the incredible mental load and pressure this puts on a person and all the systems you devise to manage it.
When I got married, I expected my husband to instantly be able to share this load with me, but the truth is he can’t, and I’m not very good at letting him try. Grant has ADD. This means that in order to share my load he’s going to fail while he creates his own systems to manage it; systems I’ve been perfecting for 30+ years.
With a baby, it’s a blank slate. Neither of us have systems to manage what a baby needs yet. We are both going to fail. For the first time that I can remember, I don’t have to be the default leader who figures it all out. Grant still, unknowingly, puts me in this role by not being more proactive. I’ve taken the lead on things like figuring out the baby’s sleep schedule or what solid foods to start with because I’m impatient. The reality is that I need to practice waiting for someone else to think ahead, and I need to get comfortable having expectations of someone else to figure this stuff out.
So, while having a baby didn’t change my personality, it has changed my relationship with my partner and allows me to be the one taking direction instead of giving it.
