Being a Parent is Not Like Riding a Bike

 Parenthood is a difficult multidirectional journey. 

In the first few months, unravelling from lack of sleep, you realize how selfish you actually have been in your pre-parenthood life, as you give so much of yourself to this new being that you begin to be untethered to who you once were. The postpartum period is not just a fourth trimester for the infant, but for the mother as well, for her life is even more tied to sustaining the baby than it was when the baby was in utero. I have never given so much for anyone as I did in that period, which seemed to stretch infinitely while I was in it, and only now seems to have finite bounds. I think all physicists should experience the postpartum months to grasp how warped time can become, because what holds more gravity than the beginnings of an utterly unique life just recently dropped into spacetime, dragging the parents into his orbit with such insistent yet basic demands?

Strangely, as the baby gains mass, slowly leaving infancy, the grip on his parents becomes less consuming, and gradually they can learn to define themselves as individuals again. It is a rebirth generated from birth.

Prior to having a child, I thought it paramount that a parent [usually the mother] stay home with the child. After having Nathan, I realized that the stay-at-home thing may be ideal, but that I am not [that is to say, I'm not ideal]. I crave me-time. I find fulfillment in working in my profession, yet I still feel that pull of my child's needs. Where is the balance? How do I get some trainer wheels back on to help me find that balance? Is most of parenting guesswork and intuition? How did we ever survive as a species?

That's all.

Hopefully, in 20 years, I'll have some answers.