by Heather Neisen
I
t’s not the load that weighs you down; it’s the way you carry it.” –C.S. Lewis
The phrase “important work” rolls around in my head constantly. Up until a few years ago I assumed that important work was confined to the stuff of business suits and boardrooms. I have always been drawn to the professional aesthetic – important, successful, envied, powerful. I cut my hair, applied far too much eye makeup, and suffered five inch heels all to make my 5’0” self come across as professional and worthy of doing important work. I am a proud, full-time working mom of two lovely girls and wife to a caring and supportive husband. I thoroughly enjoy the mental challenge of working and the fact that my family is financially dependent on me. Time and time again, I have beaten myself up over thinking that I am doing things wrong. In moments of weakness (particularly when in a group of other moms who all do not go to work every day), I’ve felt HUM
loads of self-pity and craved accolades for what I’ve chosen to do. In these moments of feeling stuck, I just kept thinking how unfair it is that important work has such a limited meaning. So, I started jotting notes here and there. I hope you find some comfort in my thoughts and words.
February 2016 On February 6, 2016 I realized that “important work” was not confined to the four walls of a boardroom. Suddenly, “important work” was happening within the four walls of a hospital room. “Where are you, sweetie? Will you stay inside of me forever?” was my new internal monologue and it was drowning out my past. I winced as a blood pressure cuff squeezed my right arm again and again. Penicillin burned my left arm. My stomach growled for food. My body had no strength, but the nurses told me to prepare to push. Days merged together. I do not recall the
exact sequence, but the seconds before my daughter arrived, the doctor turned her head around inside of me and she finally emerged into this strange world without a sound at all. My husband and I wept and wept. She arrived! She was alive! Her rosy cheeks and her calm demeanor. This (had to be) the most important work. Every inch of my body was exhausted. Feeding her with milk that my body created. Aching, fatigued, hurting, and humbled. Important work, indeed.
March 2016 Six weeks of holding and feeding
“It’s not the load that weighs you down; it’s the way you carry it.” - C.S. Lewis and breathing in a precious human. Important work. Week 7. Back in work clothes that fit awkwardly. Working. Like nothing ever happened to me or my body. Like 4/52