Permission to Be.

When I was twelve I got a set of green and purple juggling balls for Christmas. I would go to my room and practice after school every day, eager to perfect this unique little talent. You didn’t start by juggling knives or fire soaked batons. No, there were basic skills to master before moving on to anything where you could potentially lose a finger or set the house on fire.

The first step really involved no juggling at all. Instead, you learned how to hold the balls, getting a feel for them in your hands. Next, you began practicing the art of catch and release- one ball, up and down.

Eventually, you were ready to juggle two. It took some time but I became pretty proficient at the two-ball juggle. I remember the day I graduated from one ball to two- the feeling of pure joy from a great accomplishment stays with you, even in something as little as juggling. “I’m doing it! I’m doing it!” I remember calling from my bedroom for anyone in earshot to come see.

Stepping into the role of mother is a lot like learning to juggle, albeit the learning curve is steeper and there’s no little instruction book like the one in my polka dot juggling set.

There are nine months of planning and preparing and nursery decorating and onesie folding. Then in just a flicker of time, they’re pronouncing, “It’s a boy!” and there he is, a warm little ball of flesh placed on your chest. Within that millisecond, your identity has been changed forever and you are no longer just you; you are somebody else’s mommy. I still haven’t fully come to terms with the magnitude of the title yet, but I do wear it proudly.

Eventually though, you get a feel for the role. What appeared challenging and nearly impossible at the beginning of your motherhood journey does become your new normal. It comes in small victories: the day breastfeeding finally stops hurting, the day you stop asking what every fuss and cry of your newborn means and you find yourself saying with confidence, “He’s hungry” or, “He’s tired”, or the day your little one starts sleeping through the night and you feel like a real person again.

Just as in juggling, once you’ve got the feel for the ball, juggling one becomes normal and you move on to two. Juggling two babies was my biggest learning curve by far. Some people refer to this juggling as “finding your new normal”. If there’s one thing I haven’t felt much in the transition from one child to two is normal.

I looked around and everyone else’s life was going on like usual, and here I was trying to figure out how to take a shower while making sure the toddler didn’t suffocate the baby.

From the outside people tell me it looks like I’ve adjusted easily. “Motherhood looks good on you,” I’m told. Little do they know I spent the night before Googling “Signs You’re Going Insane” while my toddler and newborn took turns waking up every hour.

By the grace of God, I kept my head above water (barely), kept putting one foot in front of the other, and you know what happened? I opened my eyes one day and saw that I was actually doing this motherhood thing. Not floundering; not merely surviving. I was really truly doing it. I felt like I was back in my twelve-year-old bedroom, surrounded by pin up posters of boy bands, juggling my purple polka dot balls and yelling, “I’m doing it, I’m actually doing it!”

I can't fully articulate how I settled into my role of juggling two children, but I know it didn’t come from reading a manual or a list of how-tos. I’m a researcher by nature, and with the convenience/ curse of the internet, I’ve had access to information on every baby question I could possibly ask. So much, in fact, that instead of becoming the mom that I was supposed to be to these little boys, I had been trying to become a mix of what I have seen or read that everyone else does.

What set me free was when I allowed myself to just be ME as a mother. I spent too much time in my short motherhood career asking, “Am I doing this right?”

So I take another deep breath. And I relax just a bit more into the person that I’ve perhaps always been, but not allowed myself the space or permission to be. I know there will be more mountains to climb, as every mother knows, the learning curve for this job is pretty steep. But right now I revel in the fact that I’ve learned to juggle, and I’m really, truly doing it.