If I Cannot Fly...

Being a parent to young children is an adventure, it is thrilling, it is hard work, it is hilarious it is...so many things. But there is one characteristic of young children that is incredibly intense, and the younger they are the more intense it is: neediness. Babies are one tiny ball of need- they can do absolutely nothing on their own. They need to be fed, changed, bathed, put to sleep, comforted, snuggled, and held for hours on end. Toddlers need some of these things too, but less intensely. They also need emotional support, guidance, boundaries, encouragement, and play. Besides all of this are their basic needs: a suitable home, healthy food to eat, and someone to keep them from killing themselves. So, who does all of this for these needy little creatures?

Me.

To be fair, my husband is incredibly helpful and I am blessed beyond measure at how much he does. But for much of the day I am the one providing for my needy ones. There is not a moment in the day that does not have a need to be fulfilled by me. I am, very truthfully, constantly needed. Maybe when they're all asleep it is the laundry that needs me, the floors, the dishes. But I am always in demand.

To be so intensely needed is at times incredibly rewarding. I know what my children need, meet their need before they ask for it, and keep the day going smoothly. I am in control, one step ahead, and creating a happy home for these three people that I love so much.

But sometimes, it is a cage.

I can almost see the bars on the windows keeping me close. They all need me, and I can't leave. I maybe can escape for an hour or two here and there, but especially as a breastfeeding mama I know that I need to be available and physically present. Sometimes, when I realize the extent to which I am indispensable, I feel a heavy weight on my chest instead of feeling valuable. Sure, if I really wanted to arrange some time to get away, I could...but truthfully, for now, I am a bird in a cage.

In the show Sweeney Todd, the character Joanna sings an iconic song to her birds, asking them how they can sing in their cages because she, too, feels like she is living her life in a cage.

 

Green finch and linnet bird,
Nightingale, blackbird,
How is it you sing?
How can you jubilate,
Sitting in cages,
Never taking wing.

Outside the sky waits,
Beckoning, beckoning,
Just beyond the bars.
How can you remain,
Staring at the rain,
Maddened by the stars?
How is it you sing
Anything?





In Joanna's case, someone else was keeping her closed up and away from the world. In my case, my choices to have children, stay home with them, and to be always present are keeping me at home. Having a baby can inspire a deep feeling of wanderlust, and I think it's because our human instinct is to flee from restriction. Babies keep us at home, and they can tie our tethers tightly. So for me, the challenge is to look at my cage not as a place of restriction, but as a necessary and precious space. A place that my husband and I have created that is full of love, little voices, laughter, and imagination. It is without a doubt the perfect place for my children to dream, it just maybe feels a little small for all of mine.

Even though Joanna's birds are caged, they sing. Even though my dreams are on hold, and the need for me at home is so great, I can sing. Because really, I have so much to sing about.

Green finch and linnet bird,
Nightingale, blackbird,
Teach me how to sing.
If I cannot fly,
Let me sing.