"Swimming in the infinite ocean, who is closer to the shore?"
This morning I had a lovely conversation with a much loved mommy friend of mine who was proudly telling me of her baby's newest and surprisingly premature milestone. I felt genuine excitement for both her and her adorable little one. At the close of the conversation, I also felt a mild sense of accomplishment with myself. You see, not once during the chat did I ever critically compare Hadley to where the other baby girl is at. (And believe me, plenty of comparisons could have been made. As Hadley still refuses to roll over, poop on a regular basis or grow hair. My littlest duck is far from an overachiever thus far in her life.)
I felt proud because six years ago, I would have had a completely different reaction to that conversation. I would have worried, fretted and stressed myself out over my child's lack of infant milestone "progress." I would have wondered what I was doing wrong, considered all that could be wrong with my baby and pondered what in the world that other mom is doing so right.
In all honesty, I would have been insanely jealous.
I learned very early, even while pregnant with my first, that in the "mom-culture", competition is a very real thing. It is both overt and covert. It is both intentional and unwitting. It can be over just about anything: milestones, schools, method of feeding, method of diapering, baby equipment, a mom's employment status, her educational choices, her workout routine, degree of clean house, discipline choices... and on and on the list goes.
I have since come to understand that as a mom, I have a choice: to compete with my fellow mommies in the imaginary, no-win, unending game, or to join them in the battle. Or in the case of the above mentioned metaphor, join them in the swim. Motherhood is a swim that never ends. We are in the water desperately trying to keep our heads afloat from the very moment we find out we are pregnant. From what I hear from other, more experienced mommy's, our children NEVER outgrow our worries and need for prayers. In fact, it seems that the older they get the more intense our prayers will become.
Simply, once a mother always a mother.
Which means, we momma's are swimming in an infinite sea of motherhood. Right up to the moment of our last breath. And whether we like it or not, we are all in the same ocean. Sure, some moms will have a better stroke or will feel much more comfortable in the water. But rest assured all of us momma fishes, no matter how strong our stroke, are GOING to have rough waters, tsunamis, hurricanes and tidal waves that will seem to hit us out of nowhere.
Trying to out-swim another mom is only going to exhaust and weary us. So when the storm does hit we are going to be tired AND disconnected from the "school of fish" around us.
Because someone we are in competition with will never be a good life vest.
Not because they can't or won't help us float, but because we won't see them as support. Have you ever heard a fish ask a shark to scratch his fin?
I have fallen victim to the swim-meet mentality time and time again in motherhood thus far. I have seen other mom's as sharks in my ocean and sadly, I have even tried to be the shark. I have tried to compete with every mom around me, admittedly, even my own mother. But I can honestly say I don't want that. Not for myself, or for my children, who ultimately will suffer the most when I swim away from the school. I am making progress, but I sure do have a long ways to go.
In fact, not but three hours after my own proud milestone, I found myself in a conversation with another mom at school, discussing our children's preschool histories and covertly trying to distinguish which child was most likely the "more advanced". (Obviously it's a good thing for me this ocean is infinite!) Thankfully though, I caught myself and redirected the conversation.
Because she really did seem like a nice lady.
The kind of fish I might want to swim with.
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