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Photo By Jymi Bolden
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Mina Jones Jerfferson achieves balance with her two
full-time jobs as a professional and a mother to her
twins, Sydney and Bobby.
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Motherhood times two: our twins, Bobby Lenard and Sidney Ruth. I felt ready, I mean really ready. Unlike some who prepare for parenthood solely by putting their financial house in order, I prepared by unloading my baggage.
I was motivated to do so, because I know too many adults, friends included, who are messed up emotionally, because they're the sons and daughters of individuals who ignored their baggage.
They didn't see it for what it is and, equally as important, for what it isn't. And they didn't love their children enough to allow them to be who they are. Instead, they tried to live vicariously through them.
A son and a daughter. "How perfect!" everyone exclaims.
Yes, they are perfect, because they have yet to experience all that's bad in this world. Bobby is as much a boy as Sidney is a girl. She's wide-eyed and constantly looking around. Some would even call it nosey. He, on the other hand, can play with the same toy for extended periods of time, seemingly never bored.
We're raising a son to be the man who calls when he says he's going to call, who buys some deserving girl flowers just because, and who instinctively knows to hold that girl when she cries.
Likewise, we're raising a daughter to have both the courage to say no and the courage of her convictions. These are my dreams manifested in my babies: children who will know that character is who you are when no one is watching. And someone is always watching. They will know that right will always be right even when no one is doing it and wrong will always be wrong even if everyone is doing it.
Prayer, John Coltrane and lavender oil are the elements that helped usher my children into this world. Prayer because it blesses what I cannot control. Coltrane, well, because he's Coltrane. And lavender oil because of its calming effect.
Becoming a mother is like entering the biggest and best sorority. Mothers know what mothers need. When I returned home after the babies were born, I was amazed by how quickly women gathered and, without exchanging a word, instinctively knew what needed to be done. As is customary, my mother stayed with us the first days of my return home. Within 30 minutes of their arrival at our home my mother, grandmother and other relatives tackled the laundry, cooked a meal that rivaled Thanksgiving trimmings and made order of chaos.
In the days following, more friends arrived bringing dinner, volunteering to just sit with the babies so I could grab a shower or sleep or washing the dishes. Because of how they rallied, I now realize that I probably wasn't a very good friend to my friends who became mothers before I did. Sure, I stopped by and maybe ran an errand or two. But I didn't realize that sometimes mere adult companionship is what's most needed.
Fortunately, I didn't experience hardcore baby blues.
I did, however, mourn the loss of routine. Before the babies were born, everything revolved around their impending births. You know, the weekly non-stress test followed by a trip to the ob-gyn. Paint chips and fabric swatches were scrutinized to create the perfect surroundings for our little ones.
The letdown I experienced was quite like the feeling you get after planning your wedding. You spend months preparing for the big event, which is kind of like a big party, and when it's finished, you're left with all this time to fill. I missed no longer being pregnant, the knowing looks other women gave, the kind words uttered and a door being held open. (But still no seats offered on the bus!) I missed the free flow of questions: "When are you due?" "How far along are you?" And, of course, in the age of fertility drugs, "Do twins run in your family?"
In other words, did nature takes its course or was this somehow manufactured? Yes, twins do run in my family, and multiple births never slowed the women in my family from managing their families while maintaining professional lives outside their homes.
I am, like countless other women, a working mother.
At work, I remember late-afternoon meetings that became early evening meetings and one-by-one female associates would quietly exit the room to begin the mad dash to pick up their kids. I've now joined this mad dash that begins at 5 p.m. when women relieve their child care providers by the appointed hour. Fortunately, I don't have to travel farther than my house to relieve our child care provider.
Somehow, getting up each morning, waking the kids from a peaceful slumber in a warm bed, changing and dressing them and tossing them in infant seats to whisk them off to an off-site child care provider seemed unfair. Let's face it: It's my decision to work, not theirs.
Contrary to the basic tenet of the Women's Right Movement, I don't believe working mothers can "have it all." No, something will suffer.
You won't realize it until it's too late to repair. Nine to 10 hours outside the home on a daily basis is still nine to 10 hours outside the home. That's long enough for a baby to take his or her first stab at crawling without my presence to witness it. It's long enough for teeth sitting just below the gum to finally break through.
Although I still might miss some of their very "firsts," whenever I experience these milestones it will still be the first time for me.
I made the transition from private practice to law school administration before having children. I emphasize the timing lest some be inclined to say that motherhood is why I left private practice. It wasn't a "mommy" issue.
The hardest thing about being a working mother is that I essentially have two full-time jobs. I'm a professional as well as a primary caregiver. One comes with measured, tangible benefits and retirement perks, and the other has endless unwritten benefits -- like smiles that cross the kids' faces when I enter the room, the feel of a little hand hugging my shoulder or the pride I feel when they do something new.
These sprinkled blessings keep me going on two to three hours of sleep. By the same token, they're lost on others. Above all else, having twins means that my husband hasn't had the luxury of sitting idle on the sidelines and waiting until he feels comfortable enough to hold an infant whose head flops about as if on a swivel stick. It's been baptism by fire for him and a real team-building exercise for us. There must be a game plan when it comes to multiples.
One of the best pieces of advice I've received came secondhand. A colleague relayed a simple truth told to her by her sister.
"You'll never regret the extra things you do," her sister told her. Like her, I pour details into my kids.
I let phone calls go into voicemail in the evening rather than chat on the phone as the kiddos look on, longing for interaction. My TV time has taken a hit. Also gone are the hours once spent with friends just hanging out.
But at the end of the day, I look at our babies. And it's worth it. ©
