By: Jamie Collins
Updated: Feb. 21, 2017
Originally Published: Feb. 21, 2017
Last weekend, fueled by inexpensive punch, questionable nachos, and the delightful surprise of Insomnia Cookies (seriously, where have these been all my life?), I found myself singing and dancing with over a hundred of my closest friends. This joyous reunion happens every five years as we gather at our alma mater to celebrate significant anniversaries (this year marked our 35th) of our beloved a cappella group. Go ahead and chuckle at the geekiness of a cappella; for me, it remains one of my life’s most cherished experiences.
From the age of 4 until 22, singing consumed my life. I intentionally chose a university renowned for its vibrant singing culture, rivaling even its Greek life. My college singing friends, even those who are now scattered across the country, hold a special place in my heart. There’s an unbreakable bond formed when a group of 18 friends travels the country together in a cramped van.
During our reunion, it felt as though no time had passed since we last gathered 15 years ago, before any of us embarked on the journey of parenthood. We reminisced, dined, drank, and yes, we sang. The weekend culminated in a spirited reunion concert, and afterward, we parted ways, returning to our everyday adult lives via planes, trains, and automobiles.
I wish I could say that my return home left me rejuvenated and prepared for the next parenting challenge—like helping my son locate “Morton,” a random Lego figure in a helmet. Unfortunately, when I walked through the door, I felt a wave of sadness wash over me. I hadn’t anticipated how much I would miss the vibrant aspect of myself that had faded since becoming a mother. Now, I’m simply “Mom.” The only singing I manage these days involves lullabies and the occasional shower performance. It’s not just the music I miss; it’s the deep friendships, the late-night conversations, the uncontrollable laughter. My fellow mom friends and I don’t have the same opportunities to bond while waiting in the kindergarten drop-off line.
If I put on my cognitive-behavioral psychologist hat, I’d remind myself that I can reconnect with that part of me—perhaps by starting to sing again! But the truth is, at this point in my life, performing seems impractical. I can’t drop everything for a spontaneous gig. Staying up late laughing with friends means facing the consequences when my kids wake up singing at 6 a.m. I’d love to join a community theater, but rehearsals occur after work, the only time I have with my kids.
I know I’m not alone in mourning the loss of my former self. Every parent sacrifices aspects of their identity when they take on the role of caregiver. It’s not just a matter of time; it’s about energy too. If I attempted to sing again (I gave it a shot at the reunion, and let’s just say it was less than stellar), I’d need to practice regularly. When would I find the time? After a long day of work and once the kids are asleep? By then, I’m usually too exhausted to do much of anything.
For now, singing has to take a backseat. I resent having to put aside something I love, yet I also understand that it’s possible to cherish being a parent while grieving what I feel I’ve lost along the way. I’m genuinely sad about not singing anymore, but I’m equally grateful for the two beautiful children who greet me each morning with their own songs.
Who knows what the future holds? In five years, my kids will be 10 and 7. Maybe then I can audition for community theater, start a band with a neighbor, or even convince some fellow moms to form an a cappella group. “The Mom-tones” has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?
If you’re curious about home insemination options, you can check out this resource for more insights. Additionally, if you’re looking for an excellent authority on artificial insemination kits, visit Make A Mom for valuable information. For those interested in understanding infertility better, the CDC offers great resources that might be helpful.
In summary, taking time away with friends can help us remember who we were before we became parents. While it’s essential to embrace our roles as mothers, we can also acknowledge and mourn the parts of ourselves that we miss.