For over eight years, my existence has revolved around two little lives; nearly every action I take is driven by their needs. Indeed, I have fully embraced the role of a mother. The moment I saw those two pink lines on the pregnancy test marked one of the happiest milestones in my life, as becoming a wife and a mother were my foremost aspirations. I fondly recall the days spent in my basement, sipping pink cream soda from a plastic goblet while playfully stuffing a pillow under my shirt, all while indulging in reruns of my favorite, albeit banned, show, Felicity.
However, the fantasy of motherhood quickly unraveled when I realized that it entailed far more than simply cradling infants and marveling at their adorableness. Who signed me up for the laundry and meal prep? What do you mean we need to eat and wear clean clothes? I have come to understand that being a stay-at-home mom and a housewife are intertwined roles, a fact I wish someone had illuminated for me during my younger years.
I am genuinely grateful for the sacrifices made that allowed me to stay home, yet the myriad responsibilities that accompanied this role were daunting: Should I nurse or bottle-feed? Cloth or disposable diapers? Should we co-sleep or use the crib? Each parenting decision was met with scrutiny, leading to bouts of self-doubt that came crashing down on me, particularly after the birth of my second son. Postpartum challenges engulfed me, and my life was reduced to diapers (store-bought), naps, and advocating for my four-year-old who faced challenges beyond his years. I felt as if “Mommy” was the only identity I could embody, abandoning any pursuits of my own.
Gradually, I began to emerge from the emotional abyss that had defined my existence. I rediscovered my ability to genuinely smile at strangers. When my oldest child started school, I felt a mix of sadness and excitement, as it opened the door to a fresh dynamic with my youngest, Oliver. For three wonderful years, we bonded through snuggles, play, and exploration.
Now, as Oliver approaches kindergarten, I stand on the brink of a new chapter in my life. The childhood dreams I once held seemed to end after the baby stage; all I wanted was to be a mother. Yet here I am, about to gain six hours of personal time each weekday, and I find myself pondering, what will I do with this newfound freedom?
“Well, what do you enjoy doing, Julie?” Wait, who is Julie? Oh, that’s me… or at least it used to be. I’m beginning to realize that I’ve lost sight of who I am outside the confines of motherhood. I never envisioned a life beyond my initial dream, and the reality has reshaped me in ways I couldn’t have anticipated.
While I have published a novel and have more in the pipeline—ambitions I never dreamed I would pursue—I’m left questioning what else defines me. Scrolling through Facebook or Pinterest could easily consume my time, but I don’t want to reflect back on my life and say, “I spent hours knowing everyone’s dinner plans,” or “I saved countless design ideas I’ll never replicate.”
As I prepare to step into this new phase, I’m filled with both excitement and trepidation. I am “Mommy,” and that’s been my identity for so long. But with this impending time to truly reflect on the woman staring back at me in the mirror, I feel a flutter of nerves. It’s time to rediscover who I am beyond just being a mother, and I know the journey will be both challenging and rewarding.
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Summary
The journey of motherhood can often overshadow personal identity. This piece reflects on the transformation from being solely “Mommy” to rediscovering oneself beyond that role. As children grow, mothers face the challenge of finding their own passions and identity, paving the way for a new chapter in life.
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