Dear little one

Dear little one,

Am I really too ambitious, thinking that I can teach and work on a dissertation, and handle a new born come June all at he same time? Maybe. But if I have to give any of the above up, it will not be you.

Today, I ran into the doctoral program adviser in the hall way. She asked me about my progress. Yes, yes, I am shaping up my topic. Yes, yes, I'm doing preliminary lit review. Yes, yes, I am forming a dissertation committee. "And how are other things going?" she asked, not that subtly indicating towards my growing belly, at you.
"It's going well," I said.
"Uh-huh. Is it going to cause problems?" ("It"? You know, "baby" isn't a bad word to use, even if we are standing in the hall way of an academic institution.)
"I've budgeted a couple months time for when the baby comes."
"Good. As long as you factored it into your timeline. What is this, your third?"
"Yes, my third."
"Jesus!" She reacted in a you-are-so-out-of-your-mind, this-is-too-outrageous-to-comprehend sort of way. And I wondered, is three the new twenty in academia?

I walked away after the brief exchange bitterly amused by it. School and motherhood is an uneasy mix. Balancing the two is challenging enough, it turns out that finding someone established within an academic organization who understands what parenting is about and how why a not-crazy-person might choose to become a parent is even more difficult. When you face a roomful of faculties who chose not to have children, how do you explain that you really only have two full work days a week because motherhood takes up the rest of the day AND night, physically AND mentally? How do you convey that sitting on a park bench watching children play for a couple of hours is a good use of your time? How do you help them understand a sick child or a school vacation day means no work time for you? How do you help them see that even though these are the cases, without your children, you will not be complete any more?

But never mind them. I look at your sisters, listen to their laughter, bask in the overflowing glow of love they shower each other in, and feel a joy and contentment that I cannot put into words. I feel your movements in me and cannot wait to meet you, learn more about you, and see you jump into play with your sisters. Yes, you are my third. You are not a roadblock. You are not an extra. You are not the "break" that needs to happen. You are my child, and you will be cherished just like my first and my second are. You will be (are already) loved with all of my heart.