For over eight years, my life has centered around two little individuals; nearly everything I do is for them. After all, I am their mother.
The night I discovered those two pink lines was among the most joyous moments of my life, as getting married and having children were my ultimate aspirations. I recall sitting in my basement with a sparkling pink soda in a plastic goblet, playfully stuffing a pillow under my shirt while binge-watching my favorite yet banned show, Felicity.
However, the dream quickly unraveled when the reality of motherhood revealed itself, requiring more than simply holding babies all day and marveling at their cuteness. Who signed me up for chores? What do you mean, we have to prepare meals and ensure the laundry is clean? The terms “stay-at-home mom” and “housewife” seem interchangeable; I only wish I had been made aware of this when I was younger.
While I am grateful for the sacrifices we made to allow me to stay home, I wasn’t prepared for the myriad of decisions that came with it: Should I nurse or bottle-feed? Cloth or disposable diapers? Our bed or the crib? Each choice regarding our children’s upbringing was met with scrutiny, and as a new mother, self-doubt quickly set in. When our second son was born, I faced a significant bout of postpartum challenges. My existence had become a cycle of diapers (store-bought), nap times, and advocating for my four-year-old, who had been exposed to situations he couldn’t handle alone. In that moment, I felt I could only be a mother; I abandoned the idea of being anything else.
Gradually, I learned to emerge from the emotional pit that had become my reality. I rediscovered the ability to smile genuinely at others, and when my oldest began school, I felt sadness at his absence but also excitement to bond with my youngest, Noah, in a new way. For the past three years, we have enjoyed moments of cuddling, playing, and exploring together.
Now, Noah is five years old, and as kindergarten approaches, I am struck by the realization that I am entering a new life phase. My childhood dreams primarily focused on the baby stage; all I wanted was to be a mother. Yet soon, I will have six hours each day, Monday through Friday, to myself. I find myself pondering what I will do with that time.
“Okay, Emily, what do you enjoy?”
Wait. Who is Emily? Oh, right. That’s me… isn’t it?
Suddenly, I am confronted with the unsettling truth that I am uncertain of who I am beyond being a mother. I didn’t envision life beyond that dream, and, as I mentioned, the reality has altered me profoundly. I am no longer the same woman who first saw that positive pregnancy test.
While my published novel and those awaiting publication are unexpected achievements I now cannot fathom living without, I still wonder what else fills my life. Social media? Sure, I could easily spend hours scrolling through Facebook and Pinterest, but do I really want to look back and say, “I knew everyone’s dinner plans for the week” or “I pinned countless design ideas I’ll never replicate”?
This is a phase of life for which I feel utterly unprepared. I am a mother—that defines my existence. But now, as I prepare to have time to reflect on the woman in the mirror, I must face the questions of who she is and what she truly enjoys. To be honest, I feel a bit apprehensive about her responses. Yet, I realize there is no one else staring back at me but myself, and it’s time to embark on the journey of rediscovery.
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In summary, this transition can feel overwhelming as we balance our identities as mothers with the need for self-exploration. It’s crucial to embrace the opportunity to rediscover ourselves and our passions beyond motherhood.