I remember I first heard the term 'baby brain' in an episode of Modern Family, when Gloria is pregnant, and she's doing all these comical, non-sensical things, like trying to get out of a moving car. I thought it was one of those old wives' tales, y'know, like "if you have more nausea when you're pregnant then it's probably a girl" (I can guarantee you that one is not true). The second time I heard it was from a good friend of mine, who has both a degree and a masters, and when I asked her if she ever thought about doing a PhD, she replied, "Maybe one day, when I get my brain back. My kids have it right now."
I didn't think too much about it at the time. But...seriously.
Baby Brain is a legit, actual thing. It happens when you're pregnant, and to be honest it's worse afterwards. I have never felt so scatter-brained and completely intellectually inadequate. I was talking to my husband the other day, and I found myself saying, "Y'know, when a person is...trying to get, like...higher in their job? They're trying to go up?"
The word I couldn't think of was promotion. PROMOTION. "Higher in their job" was seriously the best I could do. What has happened to me?!
I'm fairly sure it's a combination of sleep deprivation every other night, all my attention being constantly devoted to the little man, and just general mental exhaustion. My sentences have become as short as possible. My answers one-worded. My questions...just sounding like I am a few IQ points short of 'below average' ("where...Colm...the thingy?"). I will be in the middle of a sentence, and as I'm saying it, I can feel my thought drift away, floating, fluttering like little butterfly wings out of my brain and eventually, as I'm trying to catch it, "BLOOP" it pops into nothing and I am left there, mid sentence, totally at a loss of what I'm actually talking about. It makes me look mildly insane at the best of times.
In 'Life After Birth' Kate Figes wrote about needing not a few minutes of peace to herself, but DAYS alone, not talking, sitting quietly, no one touching her, for her to be able to reboot. She is correct. I need this. I need days of being alone, off-duty, blissfully unaware of the needs of others. I need this. But I don't want it.
This, I have discovered, is one of the beauties of motherhood. I openly admit I've only discovered it recently. My first few weeks as a mom were pretty hard, in that being 'mom' didn't really sink in for me until Eli was about 6 months. Getting time alone was amazing, I jumped at ever opportunity I could to get my mom to babysit, and being on 'mom duty' was dreaded on the daily. Today, of course I still daydream about a straight 48 hours on a beach, hubby by my side, offensively colorful cocktail in hand and endless snoozy, delicious naps. My mouth may be watering.
And one day, I'll have that. It's gonna be lovely. But right now...right now, I would rather be exhausted, mentally and emotionally drained, possibly permanently in sweatpants, and with him. These days of Little won't last that long, and Mamas everywhere, you know that that is such a bittersweet thing. God, I want to be able to sleep in whenever I want to. But I do not want these milky snuggles, these open-mouthed kisses, these days of Little to end. I want to freeze our midnight cuddles and put them in a little box, and when he's grown up and laughs at my maternal nostalgia, I want to be able to open the little box and have a trip down memory lane. We're crazy, us mothers. My son is still only 9 months old, and I'm already crying over my memories of his present self. I'm tellin' ya - crazy.
And on that note, I'm gonna go to bed, tired and unshowered and dreaming of sleep. Because I have to get up at 6am, and there may be some snuggles to have in the wee hours of the morning.
Goodnight. x
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