Raging, Ranting, Raving, and Rhapsodizing

Isabella turned 15 months yesterday, and almost on cue, has finally begun to walk.  For those of you not acquainted with childhood development, 15 months is sort of late for walking.

I've been anxiously awaiting this stage- not because I'm worried about Izzy's development, or because I think she's lagging behind.  I don't think about that crap.  I just really, really, really want her to be able to walk.  If you've seen me in the last 15 months, chances are, I was holding a small brown-haired blue-eyed girl.  For 9+ months, she was literally attached to me.  After she was born, it didn't change much.    She's always been a high-need baby and a very social person, and the best place to interact with her world is from my arms.  My selfish thought is that walking will give her the ability to get where she wants to go without my help, and (hopefully) need my attention a little less.  Like, instead of wanting me 90% of the time, maybe she'll drop down to 70%.  That would be a huge deal for me.  Mostly, I'm just stoked for her to do something new.  She's really excited about it.

Parents I chat with are often surprised to hear that I'm dying for Isabella to walk on her own.  When I express this sentiment I'm typically met with some little comment that is intended to sound like helpful advice from someone who has "been there" but is truly just stupid, like "trust me, you'll change your mind once she starts walking" or "when you have more kids you'll wish they waited longer!" or the always ominous "just wait..."

I fully reject this "advice" and the entire mindset that goes along with it.  It's this idea that each milestone is something to be sad about because your baby won't be a baby forever, or whatever.  Or the idea that somehow children are supposed to be convenient for us.  Mostly, though, I think it's that a lot of women, in particular, like to feel needed and therefore get their value from being needed by their kids.  Each milestone, especially walking, is a step (ha) towards independence.  If you get validated by being needed, parenthood is going to be a long and difficult journey.

I've enjoyed every milestone in Isabella's life.  I love watching her grow.  I get excited about the new things she does.  And no, I will not wish she had waited longer to walk because it's harder to keep a fully mobile baby safe.  I will not hope my younger children will wait to walk.  I will rejoice in every milestone and every new season of my child's life.  And if you have discouraging little "trust me, just wait..." comment, keep it to yourself.

I am an emotional person, and I know that's how God made me.  The wonderful benefit is that I empathize without trying, love deeply, and have a unique understanding of my heavenly father's big soft heart.  The downside is that I tend to view everything through the lens of how I'm feeling at any given moment and lead with my emotions.  My head is full of drama.

About 4 months ago, I shaved my head.  I had long curly hair at the time, and shaved it clean off, to about an eighth of an inch long.  A friend who had recently done the same thing told me, "if it's really in your heart to do this, you won't regret it for a second."  And I haven't.  I give the same advice to everyone who asks me about it, or says wistfully, "It looks great on you, but I could never pull that off."

long red hair- shortly before I cut it off

When people asked me why I did it, I had a standard answer.  Isabella is always pulling my hair, I don't have time to shower every day so it looks nice, this is easier and faster, I haven't seen my natural color in 10 years.  Which is all true, but I was motivated by something much deeper.

When Izzy was tiny, I would read to her while she nursed.  One book I chose (because it was the only book I could reach on my sister's bookcase from where I was sitting): Captivating- Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman's Soul by Stasi Eldredge (the partner book to Wild At Heart).  I had avoided this book for years because everyone and their mom has done a bible study on it but, for lack of any other options, cracked the spine and started reading.  I was hooked after the first chapter.

As I read, God did a massive work in my heart.  He began to show me that, because of my history of sexual abuse, my view of femininity was incredibly distorted.  I've always equated sexuality with femininity.  I've thought of beauty as something dangerous.  Thus, I've spent most of my life alternately giving the middle finger to anything stereotypically feminine and secretly desiring being objectified.  I've written diatribes on this blog about being catcalled at while at the same feeling in my heart of hearts validated by the behavior.

My hair has always been an expression of this confusion over my femininity.  Most people who know me would say that I don't care what anyone thinks of me, that I'm a nonconformist and that I do whatever I want, societal expectations be damned.  But everything I've done with my hair has been in hopes that I would be perceived a certain way- it's been every color under the sun, long and short and straight and curly and everything in between.  I was desperate for someone to tell me who I was.

I'm not saying there's anything wrong with expressing yourself with your hair- it's fun- but I did it to make myself into a certain person.  I've been goth and emo and punk and hippie and pin-up and flapper and although it often does change the way people perceive me, it hasn't helped me accept myself.

Stephen cutting my hair before we taking clippers to it

It seems counterintuitive to get rid of one of the things society tells women they need in order to realize your worth and power and beauty as a woman, but isn't that just how God works?

Me with 9 month old Isabella