For the past eight and a half years, my entire existence has revolved around two little faces; nearly everything I do is for their benefit. After all, I am a mother.
The night I discovered those two pink lines was one of the happiest moments of my life. Getting married and having children were my top aspirations. I remember sitting in my basement, sipping pink cream soda from a plastic goblet, stuffing a pillow beneath my shirt while binge-watching episodes of my favorite (though now banned) TV show, Felicity.
However, the fantasy of motherhood crumbled when I realized that being a mom involved more than just leisurely cuddling with babies and marveling at their cuteness. Who signed me up for all these chores? What do you mean we have to prepare meals and ensure they wear clean clothes? The terms Stay-at-Home Mom and Housewife became interchangeable, and I wished someone had enlightened me about this reality when I was younger.
While I’m grateful for the sacrifices we made to allow me to stay home, the responsibilities that came with it were overwhelming: Should I nurse or use formula? Cloth diapers or disposable ones? Should the baby sleep in our bed or in a crib? Every parenting decision we faced was met with scrutiny, and as a new mother, I quickly fell into self-doubt. Insecurities crept in, especially after the birth of our second son when I experienced a significant bout of postpartum challenges. My life became a cycle of changing diapers (always disposable), managing naps, and advocating for my four-year-old, who was grappling with issues beyond his understanding. I resigned myself to being just Mommy, abandoning any hope of being someone else.
Gradually, I learned to climb out of the emotional pit where I felt trapped. I began to genuinely smile at others again, and when my eldest started school, I felt a bittersweet mixture of sadness and excitement. I was eager to bond with my youngest, Ethan, in a new way. For the past three years, we’ve enjoyed countless moments of cuddling, playing, and exploring together.
Now that he’s five and kindergarten is on the horizon, I’m confronted with the reality of entering a new phase of life. My childhood dreams were primarily focused on the baby stage; I wanted nothing more than to be a mother. Now, I face the prospect of having six hours a day, five days a week, to myself. What will I do with this time?
“Wait, what do you enjoy doing?”
Who am I again? Oh, right—I’m Julie. This sudden realization leaves me feeling uncertain about my identity beyond the role of Mommy. I never considered what I would do after that dream was fulfilled, and the reality has proven to be much different than I envisioned. I am not the same woman who first held that positive pregnancy test. I have transformed.
I have published a novel and have others waiting to be shared—experiences I never dreamed I would pursue but now can’t imagine living without. But aside from that, what else is there? Sure, I could spend hours scrolling through Facebook or Pinterest, but I’d rather not reflect on a life spent merely tracking what others are cooking or pinning home decor ideas I may never execute.
This new phase of life feels daunting. I am Mommy; that’s my identity, and it’s what I do. But as I prepare for this shift, I realize it’s time to truly look in the mirror and rediscover who I am. While I’m slightly anxious about the answers I may find, I recognize that it’s essential to know myself beyond motherhood.
For those exploring similar journeys, resources like ACOG offer excellent guidance on pregnancy and home insemination, while Understanding Gender Neutral Parenting provides insightful perspectives on parenting today. And if you’re considering the path of home insemination, you can learn more about it at Home Insemination Kit.
In conclusion, as I stand at this significant crossroads, my journey is about more than just motherhood. It’s about rediscovering and embracing the woman I am outside of this role.