There’s No Escape Hatch in Parenting

I thrive in a world of escape hatches.

This party gets dull?

I’m out.

This job gets boring?

I’m out.

Living in this city gets complicated?

See ya.

Right out of college, I lived in four different cities in two years. I thrived on change and the minute something got hard, something new came along or another opportunity arose, I took it.

Down the hatch and off I’d go, to what I thought was the next big thing.

Then I got married. And it was good. It settled my wandering spirit.

I’m happy to say that I’ve been in the same city for almost five years, learning that to have real relationships and community, one must stay in the same place.

But every time something gets hard or frustrating I glance over at that shiny escape hatch and think, “The hubby and I could always move to a new place, no problem.”  And then my nerves are calm again. I have the knowledge of its option, its possibility, its beautiful quick escape.

 I just need to know that it’s there.

“Good escape hatch,” and I pat it on the head.

Then I had a baby.

And the hatch disappeared.

Motherhood is not a job that one can just up and quit. There’s no see ya baby! Life is hard so I’m going to try a new path.

Nope.

While many other mothers were sharing the difficulties of parenting, not as many of them had panic attacks in their car or fits of deep grieving. That was just me, trying to cope without that trusty hatch.

For the first time in my life I was facing something truly challenging and I wasn’t able to simply move on.

As my son rounds month 11 of life, I’m finally starting to breathe normally. I’m finally enjoying parenting.

But it has taken me some time.

I was left scratching my head watching other mothers thinking, why has this been so DIFFICULT for me? It seemed worse than most.

It’s because of that darn hatch.

Why did I have that hatch mentality when a lot of my peers were able to power through the challenges? I’m not quite sure, maybe my personality, maybe my upbringing, maybe my generation. Maybe a lot of things. But the important thing was recognizing this particular aspect of my personality. Once I was able to identify the reason, I felt more ability to work past it.

Even still, the deep grieving I feel for the loss of that hatch hasn’t been quick to subside.

I still cry.

But I laugh more.

I’m finally recognizing that staying home with my son is the best thing I can do for him and that these days are fleeting (as everyone and their mother’s mother’s mother has told me). I’m going to wish I had them again if I neglect to appreciate them now.

And I can see past the missing hatch and realize that I’m learning and growing as a person.

So while it’s painful, and challenging and hard, it’s ultimately good. Only took me 11 months to get there. That’s not too bad, eh?

Do you live with a hatch? Tell me about it. Comment below.