Simply Bike ? grad school is a special kind of beast

If you?re a woman in academia and at all maternally inclined, then you?re probably familiar with the book Mama, PhD. Either you?ve come across it, it?s been recommended to you, you?ve read about it, or you?ve been given it as a gift. Like those little green bibles that seem to flood campus about once a year, finding their way into every dorm, surfacing in corners of classrooms, and generally sneaking their way into the hands of welcoming and reluctant recipients alike; Mama PhD has a similar way of circulating among the female and the scholarly. And like a bible of sorts, it fills readers with both hope and trepidation, as they turn to it with hopeful eyes, ready to be instructed on how to best navigate academia and motherhood.

I, too, read Mama, PhD in my early years of grad school and put the book away feeling thankful to have read so many perspectives and so many takes on making this parenthood thing work. At the time, I was nowhere near pregnant, but certain of my desires to start a family and worried about how to best negotiate that while also working 40, 50, 60, (more?) hours a week on courses, teaching, research, grading, reading, and writing. Fast forward a few years and here I am; mama and almost a PhD. I hate to count my chickens, err, diplomas, before they hatch, but seeing as how my defense date is set for this semester and how I?m at the revisions and editing stage of my work now, I?m hoping that it?s safe to say: this thing will happen.

So here is my story. The shortened¹, post-friendly version², should the editors of Mama, PhD ever seek another voice to add to their anthology. This is how we made it work for us?

First, I should say that my entire grad school experience can be summed up as an exercise in mind/body duality. Like a tug of war, with my brain on one side and my body on the other, and me weirdly caught in the middle, I scampered through semester after semester always in search of that elusive thing called ?balance.? Refusing to take sides, I?d try to nurture one a little bit, then pay attention to the other a little more. As the years went on, the stakes got increasingly higher. What?s that brain? You want me to cancel Thanksgiving and my birthday this year, hole up in my apartment, and write my comprehensive exam over the course of a week? Why, certainly! What?s that, body? You want me to purge myself of that week of physical slothdom and nervous overeating by going all out and running the distance of a half marathon on snow and ice when I?ve never even run close to that length? Sure! Mind: Oh, poor you, now you?ve got a stress fracture. I guess you?ll just have to stay home more and read that extra book for class. Body: Stay home more? Now?s the time to cross-train, after all, I am injured and need to recover in time for the actual half marathon that I?m paying good money to run.

And so it went.

Let?s just say that the past five and a half years have been years of great intellectual growth and inspiration while also being the most physically intense years I have ever experienced. Never much of an athlete before, I now count two marathons, several half marathons, a year of all-weather bike commuting, and a rekindled passion for yoga to my accomplishments.

I never even fully realized how ridiculous this all sounds until I started contemplating this post (at yoga, mind you, instead of emptying my mind, I was drafting writing projects) and noticed a pattern I had somehow missed before. So here is my big Aha! discovery that came to me on the mat this week: the more academia demanded I become a disembodied brain on a stick, the more I felt the need to use my body, test its limits, escape the world of sitting and thinking and writing and talking, and dive into a world of running, cycling, stretching, and sweating.

Motherhood is, in a way, the most visceral and physical act of rebellion against academia that I have committed.

Motherhood, with the undeniable focus on the body, the pregnancy, the breastfeeding, the sleep deprivation, the lifting, carrying, nursing, rocking, playing, holding, and kissing, is by far the most body-centric activity I do all day. This is not to suggest that I became a mother out of a need to rebel; the desire for a family was always there. But it is interesting that we chose the epitome of a stressful time (the final year, the year our dissertations had to be completed and defended) to also become parents.

On the other hand, when else would we become parents? As anyone in this situation knows, this beast called grad school robs you of your twenties and early thirties (depending on when you start and how long your program takes to complete), and in essence, of your prime reproductive years. And then you go on the job market and face even more demands on your time, only now with a tenure clock hanging over your head, fighting to drown out the sound of the reproductive one.

So we took the plunge and decided to live our lives: now, in the present, no longer waiting for that mythical ?perfect moment.?

And we?re making it happen. One day at a time, one to-do list after another. The most important things I?ve learned about mothering while dissertating are these:

• Be kind to yourself, you?re doing so much, it?s ok to mess up occasionally.
• There are only so many things you can perch on the ?body? side of the scale while keeping the ?mind? side from being blasted off into space. Now is not the time to sign up for a Spring half marathon.
• Sleep when you can, eat as well as you can, but if you don?t sleep nearly as much as you?d like, get over it and move on. Don?t dwell on it or you?ll start to cry.
• People matter. Even when it seems impossible to carve out time for anything else, making time for people and social events, however infrequently, is key to staying sane. Relationships and community are the foundation of happiness; nurture them.
• When panicked, take a deep breath, make a to-do list, and just start working through it one item at a time.

None of these is a groundbreaking realization. Rather, these small but essential kernels of wisdom have surely crossed the minds of countless others in a high-stress situation. I honor this list of personal amendments as it has served me well so far. Oh, and one more:

• Don?t sweat the dust bunnies gathering in every corner, the dishes piled high in the sink, the fact that the sheets haven?t been washed in how long? or that you haven?t washed in ? that long? As long as the baby?s happy, fed, and clean, the chapter?s turned in by deadline, friends have been seen, walks have been taken, the dog?s been cuddled, the parter?s been kissed, and a glass of wine has been poured, you?re golden.

In short, if I may with a clich? here: keep your eye on the prize. For me, that has been doing the best possible job as a parent, nurturing my relationships with my husband and other important people in my life, and making sure my writing goals are met each week.

Lastly, a note on logistics: I have nothing to compare this to, but I think it?s been a great source of support having both of us go through a PhD program at the same time. We understand each other?s sources of stress, we know how this beast works (sort of), and we are each other?s biggest cheerleader. Of course money?s tight but we make do and we?re both pretty frugal. And we have parents who spoil us.

T.?s program requires that he be in a lab for a full work week, whereas I have been on a dissertation fellowship since the month our daughter was born. This means that I stay home with her and am her primary caretaker.? I discovered pretty quickly that it?s impossible to get quality work done with a baby around. We don?t live close to family , so we have to rely on each other to do everything and we?ve had to be realistic about getting extra help.

While my mom has come for a couple of extended stays to help out (which was great!), we rely on two amazing babysitters on a weekly basis for me to get some work time in. They take C. on walks, on trips to the library, play with her at the house while I write in my study (our dining room turned home office), and all in all make me feel at ease about leaving her in someone else?s care while I focus on work. Having reliable and quality childcare, in whatever shape or form, is invaluable. They come for less than ten hours a week, but for those hours, I tune everything else out and I focus. I?m paying good money for those hours and I know to value them.

In the end, this is our story and we?re living the kind of life we carved out for ourselves. I may not have the cleanest house, I may not always look the most put-together, I may not be the most dedicated cyclist, but I am a damn good mama and I?m trying my hardest to get that PhD. And this I can say about T. without a doubt: he?s rocking this dad thing and he?s a pretty good scientist to boot. This is our life and we love it.

^1?Sorry, I said this was going to be short, but I guess it really wasn?t all that short.
^2?I couldn?t write an entire post on academia without sneaking in at least one footnote. ;)

Source: http://simplybikeblog.com/?p=6676&utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=grad-school-is-a-special-kind-of-beast

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