A delicate dance between parenthood and PhD pursuit – Joséphine artfully shares lessons learned from finding balance amidst challenges, unveiling the boundless depths of love and resilience of the human spirit. Joséphine Foucher has recently completed her PhD in Sociology and her internship as Deputy at Teaching Matters. This post belongs to Mar-Apr Hot Topic series: Being student parents/carers↗️.
Before you read this post, I urge you to visually engage with the painting image by Alice Neel interpreted below: The intellectual↗️.
The American 20th century portraitist Alice Neel’s painting entitled ‘The Intellectual’↗️ (1929) features four women and a child. On the right side of the canvas, a woman sits on a thick, comfortable arm chair, resting her head gracefully in her right hand; her gaze lost in a distant world of thought. She wears a striped dress and turban in her hair, reminiscent of the flapper fashion of the 1920s. Most surprisingly, her bare breasts hang out luxuriously, relaxed, just like her legs which are elegantly crossed. She takes up almost half of the canvas while on her left there are four figures. On the extreme corner, we recognise Neel’s self-representation; the plump, blonde twenty-nine-year-old. Instead of two arms, she has three: one grasps the shoulder of a smiling child who stares at us, the other contortions to scratch her face, and the third rests at a strange angle on her lap, as if trying to mimic the cool composure of the woman in the striped dress. She and the two other women in the painting (Neel’s mom and grandmother) are looking at the woman in the armchair with an air of perplexity. One forgets that what might draw their attention is her uncovered breasts, because what I imagine feels the most ‘offensive’ is her unapologetic reverie, which takes up all the space of the painting. ‘The Intellectual’ is one of many of Neel’s representations of her frustrations with young motherhood, which she saw as a direct affront to her devotion to painting (Hoban, 2021). The woman in the striped dress exudes calm, sophistication, and freedom to sit and think for as long as she wishes, whilst motherhood is a deforming whirlwind that requires superhuman limbs and a constant battle with time. Neel makes us taste the deliciousness of losing sense of time for the sake of creativity and thinking, a luxury that new parents lose instantaneously (albeit momentarily).
The ability to ‘lose oneself’ is necessary for the creative process of doing a PhD. Coming up with insightful ideas requires divergence, day dreaming and meditation. It also requires rigour and discipline, of course, but making meaningful connections sparks from a mind able to wander. Yet parenthood imposes juggling, managing, keeping up with a schedule – Nap time, feeds, playtime, bedtime.
I knew that deciding to have a child whilst doing a PhD would be no easy feat. Yet, nothing could have prepared me for the sustained fatigue it would entail, among all of the other existential life disruptions. Having to sit at my desk and come up with good ideas after not one or two sleepless nights but six months’ worth of lost sleep has, at times, felt pathologically impossible.
However, becoming a mother helped me keep in tension two important truths about the process of doing a PhD. On the one hand, when I had those precious hours to write and think, it was the only thing that mattered, the most important endeavour of the moment. It strengthened my commitment to my research participants, because it made me feel the true urgency of the work I was doing. On the other, having a child helped put the whole process into perspective. Realising that, in this journey of life, it didn’t matter that much. It provided me with a healthy balancing act to stay productive; holding all at once an intensity, commitment, detachment and humility. It can be paralysing to feel that what we’re doing is of utmost importance; a bit of nonchalance can be constructive.
Another way the PhD gave me balance and perspective is that it helped maintain a side of ‘me’ that belonged to no one else. It was my secret garden. Motherhood is a sacrifice on so many levels: physical, psychological, emotional and hormonal. Research shows that pregnancy and the postpartum stage literally alters women’s brain composition↗️ to heighten attunement to baby’s needs. Diving back into my dissertation after a four-month break was the saving grace I had not realised I needed, it reunited me with my inner world by relinquishing a sense of personhood separated from my little boy.
As I write this, just two weeks since successfully passing my viva and two weeks from giving birth to my daughter, I try to tame the devils of anxiety about what’s to come next, both professionally and personally. I imagine that Neel’s ‘intellectual’ would have done things differently: she might have diversified her work experiences rather than keep the same internship hoping it would have opened more doors, or she would already have a couple of serious publications under her belt. But when I think back to how I managed to complete a PhD with my three arms and three legs; from using my pregnancy insomnia to get some reading done, to breastfeeding my five months old during the ten-minute break between teaching two tutorials, to writing my conclusion with noise cancelling headphones while my partner tamed a crying toddler, I feel compassion for that difficult, joyous chaos.
Parenthood has taught me two key lessons. One, it’s about fostering moderation. Adapting your life to foster the fulfilment of a highly dependent being whilst not compromising your whole existence is a delicate dance. It requires mindful, daily adjustments to maintain a layered identity that isn’t just wrapped up in being a parent, but also a friend, partner, community member, sister, daughter. However, even moderation needs to be done with moderation. Abundance and radicality are thrilling. And sometimes necessary for being creatively and politically engaged. So, the second lesson parenthood taught me, which contradicts everything I just said, is that there is no moderation in how much the heart can expand. I never thought my ability to love could grow so infinitely. And there is abundance and radicality in love’s muscular force.
As I reflect on the last four years, I realise that discovering my heart’s infinite expansiveness whilst walking on the tightrope of distinguishing between my and my child’s wellbeing will take me a long way. I aim to translate that into action; be it towards building community, finding meaning in the work I seek to do, and manifesting concern about the state of the world. Expansiveness and moderation, abundance and balance.
Reference:
Hoban, P. (2021). Alice Neel: The Art of Not Sitting Pretty. New York, David Zwirner Books.
As my PhD internship as Teaching Matters’ Deputy comes to an end, I wish to express my deepest gratitude to the Teaching & Learning Enhancement team: Jenny Scoles, Cathy Bovill, Celeste McLaughlin, Neil Lent, and Sylvia Joshua Western for the many opportunities to learn about the work of the IAD, as well all the other colleagues I met along the way. Very special thanks to Jenny for your committed and compassionate mentorship over the years. It has been truly formative.
Joséphine Foucher
Joséphine completed her PhD in Sociology at The University of Edinburgh. Her research seeks to engage phenomenologically with artworks and the aesthetic experience which she argues provides a different epistemic access into the political and moral intentions of contested artists in contemporary Cuba. She supports Jenny Scoles as the Teaching Matters Co-Editor and Student Engagement Officer through the PhD Intern scheme at the Institute for Academic Development.
