Petty, Unsexy Sacrifices

Ashmae's latest post included the following quote from David Foster Wallace (italics added by me for emphasis):

But there are all different kinds of freedom, and the kind that is most precious you will not hear much talked about in the great outside world of winning and achieving and displaying. The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day. That is real freedom. 

Reading this quote, a part of my mind opened and held on to the idea that freedom (and hence happiness) comes from sacrificing for people over and over again in "petty little unsexy ways." This hit close to home for me right now. As a new parent, I've had to adjust to the reality that the most important sacrifices I can make are inherently menial and unattractive. They aren't "glamorous sacrifices" that might earn me honorary PhDs, put my name in the Opera donors programme, get me onto Extreme Home Makeover, or win me a Pulitzer in photojournalism.

These little sacrifices are so uncool, it's hard for me to remember how important they are. Or more truly, I remember exactly how important they are because I force myself to remember, even be it through rote mental exercises. I've found this repetition necessary because these unglamorous sacrifices go exactly against the dictates of my self-image, self-esteem, and any other word that begins with "self."

With that introduction, here are a few unsexy and petty ways I've sacrificed within the last year that have made all the difference for me and for Sam.

• My body post-pregnancy. Breastfeeding hasn't helped me lose weight. It's made me hungry. Constantly. As a result, my body is clinging to pounds of excess fat that make my clothes fit me . . . differently. But I know Sam's nutrition is much more important than me liking my butt in a pair of jeans right now.
• My attempt at "bouncing back." I successfully dropped fifteen pounds at one point only to realize that it was affecting my milk supply and Sammy wasn't getting enough. I stopped tallying each calorie I took in and burned, and moved my focus instead to wholesome food choices. The milk and eventually the weight came back. Alas. I'll get my body back where I want it to be once a little baby isn't depending on it for food.  I often have to remind myself why it's worth it. ( . . . milk supply . . . "breastmilk is best" . . . he'll have better teeth than I did . . .)
• Regrets. Yes, this is also a sacrifice. I can't afford the luxury of regret -- to wonder how things would have been different if . . . if I had listened to my body and stayed off my feet leading up to Sammy's premature arrival . . . if I had only chosen to have babies sooner, with a younger more-easily healed body . . . if I had chosen a midwife all along, despite insurance not covering it . . .. But those regrets (and others) are swiftly followed and wiped out by remembrance of all the reasons I chose what I did when I did.
• I missed a girls weekend in Denver because I knew the roadtrip wasn't right for Sammy just then. We had just moved into the new place and he'd had a hard time adjusting to his new environment. His old room had carpet and was insulated from all ambient noise by two doors; noises in the other rooms were muffled similarly by carpet and highly-insulated walls. Not so his new room. His cries echoed off the empty walls and bare wood floor. His sleep and eating schedules were thrown off. He needed stability, wall-hangings, and me. 
• Favorite food. Sammy's first seven or eight months, I didn't eat Indian food since its flavor got into the breastmilk and upset his belly. Sammy and I learned this the hard way. Happily, his tummy's warmed up to it now.

I didn't list sleep, because to me that is not a petty sacrifice.

Point of me posting this: despite the inelegant sacrifices I've made along the way, I've found greater freedom and purpose in my life. I look at this list now and think of how each burdened (and sometimes still burdens) me. Yet, this is my favorite part of life - getting back to basics, focusing on fundamentals - in a quiet, unobtrusive way. Here is where I've found long-enduring happiness, making meaningful, if meager, sacrifices that benefit someone I care about.