In the few months since Daphne’s birth, I’ve heard the term “infant/mother dyad” a couple of times.  Basically, the idea that mom and baby are really just one unit for a while after birth.  The dictionary definition calls a dyad a pair, a set of two, but the colloquial use seems to imply more of a “two as one” sense.  Whatever the semantics, I get it now.

We often hear people talking about “the better half” in a marriage, or the whole “two become one” idea.  But that always seems silly to me.  Yes, in marriage, we’re a team.  We have some functionality that is as though we are one unit, but we are two whole individuals making up that one unit.  Like a team at work is a single unit, but made up of completely individual people.  And sure, in a good marriage, I think the unit that’s made up of two individuals is more than just the sum of those two individuals.  But we’re still individual.

In this mom/baby dyad thing, though, it feels different.  I feel like, on my own, I’m half of something.  It’s as though something is missing to make the unit complete if Daphne’s not with me.  It’s not necessarily a bad thing; it just is.  Like getting an apple pie without the crust – something’s missing, but it’s not bad.

I realized this yesterday during the first class in the yoga teacher training I’m starting.  I was away from Daphne for about four hours, while she was well cared for by Jason.  By the time the asana portion of class was over, I realized that I didn’t feel entirely there.  Not spacey, or absent minded, but as though, despite giving my all, I was only partially present.  And the other part was Daphne.  As though we are a single unit that can be split into two parts, but are still designed/intended as one unit.

That realization didn’t really change anything, but the extent of it is a little bit mind boggling.