This Moment
My friend Steph hired me last year to coordinate the details for her film premiere at the Toronto Film Festival. I booked hotels, flights, and dinner reservations for her film crew and family. I planned the premiere party, coordinated delivery of tickets to potential film buyers and stood by for anything else that required attention. I wasn’t sure I was the right person for the job when we first started talking. Steph laughed and said, “You can do this job. You can do any job. You work in birth. You birth things.” Turns out, she was right. I’d make a fantastic producer because I paid close attention to the details, didn’t show stress and maintained a cheerful attitude all week.
Even if I am good at being a producer and would be highly compensated for that work, I know it’s not my calling. It lacks meaning. Still, I wonder. Am in the right career? Do I have a career? Talking to my friend Heather, last week, I asked her this question. She named my path a vocation. I looked it up. The definition of vocation is “…more than a career choice, vocation, in its broadest sense, encompasses every role that a person has in his or her life.”
True! My work and personal lives are blended. Owning my own business is like running my family. I am the Chief Problem Solver and VP of details for both. I sprinkle mindfulness into every conversation I have whether it is with a client, a child, or a friend. I practice the 3 Ps of mindfulness: nothing is ever personal, perfect, or permanent. I work on self-compassion and forgiveness. I try to be patient, kind, and attentive.
The role of mothering evolves as children grow. My teenage kids do not need any physical support. I’m not scooping them up. Not a chance - my son is seven inches taller than me. Recently, I carried a four-month-old baby from the car to my backyard. The weight of the car seat surprised me. I’m out of practice. I used to carry the baby in the car seat, a diaper bag, another tote bag, my purse, and probably a water bottle or cup of coffee. I don’t miss that exertion. All those years of carrying them around wore me out.
Parenting older kids is difficult in other ways. Their requirement of my physical strength is replaced with a need for my emotional support. With teenagers, I need to be available when they want to talk. This is usually not at a time I would choose (i.e., after 9:00 pm), but if I wasn’t available to listen, I would miss out!
I watch them carefully and listen closely in order to fully understand the nuances of what they are sharing - or not sharing. It requires my full attention. It’s up to me to ask questions and seek clarification. Curiosity serves me in those conversations. Assumptions do not.
Sometimes, I simply ask what kind of support they want me to provide. Are they looking for advice or do they just want me to listen? And when I am told just to listen, it forces me to refrain from sharing my thoughts. And I usually have a lot of them!
I use similar techniques in childbirth preparation or postpartum doula support. When a client makes decisions from a place of fear, it’s my job to stay centered. I need to remain grounded in order to maintain peace and calm. I give my advice if asked. Or, I just listen. I am the professional.
In contrast, parenting is trial by fire. There’s no teenager parenting class or test. We begin parenting with whatever conditioning we inherited. The style of parenting with which I was raised is there for me to either accept or reject. It’s taken me years to find my own path. I had a lovely childhood. and I bring many of the examples of my parents into my own style. But I am also a different mother than mine.
As an Omazing doula, I support a woman’s transition from childbirth to motherhood. As a parent, I support my kid’s transition from childhood to adulthood. I know that they are learning not only from what I say, but from what I do. I consider my actions carefully. It is a joy to watch my children grow up.
My son is packing for college this week. There is nothing that is more complex than the emotions of this moment. He is excited to go. He’s ready to live in a new city and meet new people. He can’t wait to go to his college football game and study with professors. At the same time, he looks at me with tears in his eyes. We hold hands. Both of us try to be brave as we close this door. The next one is in sight and it is cracked open. We both see the light. I am grateful to have the emotional capacity to feel into this moment. I feel it all.