Balance

I had a dream with Dad in it last night.  Since it's been several days since I have seen a cardinal no matter how hard I look at the trees, the sky, or the birds who swoop down and fly across my path, the dream in the early morning hours today was so welcomed.  This time, Dad was healthy, happy, and upbeat.  With a twinkle in his eye, and a jovial grin plastered on his face, he pulled off a surprise of Aunt Maureen and Laura visiting us in Mom and Dad's RV.  This was quite funny to me as I recalled the dream since I had not gone on any camping trips with Mom and Dad or Aunt Maureen and Laura for that matter.

Just like in life, the feelings in the dream sharply dropped from one extreme to the other.  In one moment of the dream, we were all laughing and happy at the surprise visit from my godmother/aunt being successful and in the next, Dad had vanished from his spot at the table where we were all sitting.  In my dream, I dissolved into a puddle of tears that came with such ferocity that I couldn't breathe to suddenly awake under the covers in the semi-dark room as the dawn light snuck through the windows.  As I slipped from the dream world to the real world, I realized that my face was covered in tears and I was full out ugly crying.  For a minute, I thought I was still in the RV staring at the empty chair rather than staring at the blank white wall of my bedroom in my Mom's house but either way, the reality was there that Dad is not here.

I wonder what he would think of us all now.  Stumbling our way through each day.  Missing him more than we thought we ever could.  Emotions overtaking each of us in different ways at any point in time.  Hearing as others wonder aloud what is next for each of us.  Our wondering what the next family gathering will feel like.  How the holidays are going to feel.  Hoping and wishing our children will remember their beloved Grandpa/Papa/Pappy as they grow older themselves.  Imagining what our reunion might be like when it's our turn to depart from this world.  What would he think?  What would he want for each of us?  Is he at peace?  Is he happy?  Does he miss us?

I'm accustomed to these feelings of being torn in different directions in my professional life when thinking about my personal life but it's a different arena now to think about being happy Dad is no longer suffering physically but wondering how he is spiritually.  Does he see how sad we are without his physical presence or is he basking in the glory of heaven and God that he doesn't need to be concerned with earthly matters?  What a strange sensation to be happy for him but said for me all at the same time.

How does this translate to life in the here and now?  Since becoming Charlotte's mom, it's been interesting the ways I have sought to achieve work-life balance.  There are days I feel like a super mom and others I feel like a rock star teacher.  There are days I feel I'm dropping the ball on both vocations.  Other days find me barely keeping my head above the water as I try to remember when the pediatrician appointment is, if we have Charlotte's favorite snack on stock, make copies for the handouts the students need for their performance-based assessments, reply to a student email in the wee hours of the night, and is the alarm set for the right time that we have to be out the door depending if there is school, if office hours are scheduled, or if we're taking a trip that day?  Yesterday was a particularly busy day of revising syllabi for the fall, having a couple virtual meetings, working on a grant proposal, being there for my mother, and keeping Charlotte happy amidst everything.  Today I was reassured though.  When thinking over the last 24 hours, I could focus on how much of the day schoolwork took up vs. how much time was spent playing with Charlotte.  However, Charlotte was positively beaming and radiant as she told her Uncle Mark at breakfast about her rainbow toes - the ten toes that Mama painted yesterday.  "Mommy made these. She's a great Mommy!" she said.  I love being a mother with every fiber of my being.  I also know I was born to teach.  Do they have to contradict?  Do the feelings of joy and grief have to be opposite?  Can we have it all?  Can we feel all the feelings?

Thinking back to Summer 2016, the work-life balance did not feel as difficult when I was on maternity leave and had the lightened load.  Can work-life balance only be achieved with part-time work vs. full-time work?  Is grief more manageable when life is half full rather than overflowing from an already filled to the brim cup?  I don't have the answers to the questions.

What I do know, is that when I have struggled with something, doing a project or a study or action research to try to find the answer has helped.  When I saw so many students accept and embrace learned helplessness on account of their disability, I engaged in my thesis research to see what we could do about it.  Through cognitive therapy and putting into practice Martin P. Seligman's ABCDE model, we were able to examine areas in which we could improve and lower learned helplessness thereby increase self advocacy.  When I questioned identity with regards to the presence of a disability, my dissertation study sought to find ways to put into words what individuals with disabilities, and their caregivers/parents felt.  Now, as a mother and a professor, I'm examining the experiences of MotherScholars.  This research I'm in the midst of despite the pandemic, despite not knowing what state I'll be taking up residence in from week to week, despite having Charlotte at my side 24/7 (and I don't think I would want to change that - I know these days of my four year old wanting to be here and sharing in my space will be over before I know it), despite so many questions about the upcoming fall, despite the all encompassing grief of missing my Dad, is bringing so much joy and helping me to see this lived experience of MotherScholaring from so many different angles.  The below quote really resonated with me.

Even with the confidence of a tenured chair, I feel anxious about the work that isn’t getting done, just as I feel guilty about the hours I spend away from my daughter.  In truth, I feel guiltier about my work, perhaps because I’ve been in academia longer than I’ve been a mom, and it still feels like cheating to prioritize my personal life.  I think back to a similar conflict I felt when I took time off to care for my dying father, and I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that I was getting behind in my research.  I knew this was irrational, but when I mentioned this anxiety to a family friend-a professor-he responded, "Can't you read articles while you sit in the hospital?"  Years later, I relish the memory of the hours I spent next to my father's hospital bed, the hours I did nothing but watch him breathe.  And I know that I will not begrudge the afternoons walking behind my daughter as she pumps her bike around the block, or the hours spent rolling with her down the sloping grass of our neighborhood park (Haynie, 2009).

Reading the above passage in particular hit home on so many levels.  It made me think back to when I shared with my twin my exciting news about being selected as a High Impact Scholar.  I had started the phone conversation by saying, "I don't know if you remember, but on that last night with Dad, do you recall that I was working on a submission at Dad's bedside?"  His response - "You're always on the computer" felt dismissive and seemed to indicate that I wasn't as present to Dad in his last moments.  Yet, when I think of that last night, I remember feeling confident that I was applying for something with my biggest supporter at my side.  It's funny how different perspectives bring out different aspects of lived experiences...which is all the more reason to hear from a variety of subjects in a study when examining a lived phenomenon or experience.  

Last night, as I read some research before bed, I was captivated by a statement that said to work well helps us to be better mothers.  It was on that thought that I had fallen asleep and then had the vivid dream of Dad only to be woken up by a tear-stained face sobbing into my pillow.  One extreme to another...feeling like I'm coping with Dad's being gone to missing him terribly to wishing I could go back in time for another conversation to relief he is not suffering...cranking out another manuscript submission, playing in the pool with Charlotte, attending virtual meetings, snuggling with my girl in the rocking chair, to not getting all the items checked off the to-do list.  They are two different things:  Grieving a lost parent and trying to manage home and work lives.  Yet they both involve effort, vulnerability, and realizing you're going to fall short.  I mean, our faith teaches that, too.  We are human as are our efforts.  Yet we should be striving for the best we can do and be, pray for the graces and wisdom to handle what is thrown our way, and rise above the challenges as the capable humans we are.  With all these things swirling around in my head, I wrote the below section this morning.  I am so excited to wrap up and analyze the data from one of my current studies --- I don't think I've been this excited about my own research since my dissertation research!

          With the arrival of COVID-19, all those working in higher education were forced out of their comfort zones and faced uncertainty and still are facing this to some degree now as we look toward the future.  However, to be our authentic selves, as MotherScholars, no matter the circumstances, we would do well to embrace wholehearted living as defined by Brown (2010) by engaging in our lives from a place of worthiness.  This means MotherScholars should seek to cultivate courage, compassion, and connection to wake up in the morning and recognize no matter what gets done and how much is left undone, she is enough.  This is particularly true during trying times such as during the world pandemic.  We also need to give ourselves permission to truly love the time we spend in our work as working well does not make us bad mothers (Sutherland, 2009).  Our children will see us engaging in something that brings us joy and see us use our gifts in this world if we are truly living our vocations and demonstrating for our families, as mothers, what it means to be a good worker.

Something else that I have seen in going over the research for the MotherScholar study, is the beauty in how what I do for a living has been directly impacted by my personal life.  Prior to Charlotte, my work was impacted by my experiences as a teacher of school-aged children that I brought with me to the higher education classroom.  This was one of the biggest reasons I wanted to be a professor.  I wanted to have real world experiences to draw from and share with the pre-service educators as I recalled learning so much from my own professors as an undergraduate student who shared the "real world" examples with my peers in my college classes.  However, I never dreamt or imagined of the ways my teaching would be improved by having my own child.  With the arrival of Charlotte, my service activities shifted slightly to be more family-focused (such as advising a ministry that pairs college students with families) and it's been beautiful to see the college students interact with my girl over the last four years whether she came to my classes, they completed preference assessments with her, or they needed to provide childcare through completion of diverse field hours.  

Even beyond these experiences, spending a semester abroad together, caused some beautiful relationships to blossom that won't soon end even when the students graduate from the university.  I won't know until years from now what this sort of lived experience of growing up at home and on a college campus for Charlotte with a MotherScholar for a mommy will mean for her but I hope when she looks back, she remembers all her "college friends", the work meetings/colleagues who have accepted her with open arms from day one, is able to put her experiences with a variety of personalities to use in a positive way, and that she has a love for learning and service to others.  

Just like with grieving, is there truly a right way to balance?  I think the answer is different for everyone and we need to be respectful of that.  Work-life balance is not a struggle just for those who work out of the home.  Grieving is not just for those who are mourning the loss of someone who passed three months ago.  This is a life-long and at times, delicate, journey we all must take.  None of us escape the opportunity to grieve.  None of us escape the chance to engage in balancing (you fill in the blank).  What we choose to do with the opportunities we have is up to us though.