As I strolled through Times Square on a humid summer morning, I felt a sudden jolt to my heart. It felt like a bullet had pierced through, leaving a splash of emotions across 46th Street. My heartbeat slowed, but the grip of my toddler’s small hand brought me back to reality.
We were on our way to the Bryant Park carousel after stepping out of the subway, covered in sweat at 11 a.m. It was a typical New York City summer when my mind was suddenly flooded with memories. The bullet I felt was not a physical one; rather, it was a surge of nostalgia that struck me as I navigated through the busy streets filled with bright neon lights and tourists.
It had been five years since I last entered 165 West 46th Street, a place that had once felt like a second home. The Actors’ Equity building is a hub for theatre actors, where auditions take place in small rooms off the second-floor lounge. This was where I had established my identity as an artist, a constant in my life before motherhood. The memories swelled within me, causing a tumult of nostalgia, confusion, and hope that made me sweat even more.
At 35, I was thrilled to be cast in a new play, but shortly after, I found myself battling morning sickness. A pregnancy test confirmed what my husband and I had desperately wanted: a baby was on the way, due in November. I met with the play’s director at a diner to share the news while balancing a soggy matzo ball on my spoon. I was slated to portray an end-stage cancer patient, with the premiere just three weeks before my due date.
Just like that, my career aspirations were overshadowed by the realities of impending motherhood. I attempted a few auditions during my first trimester, but the fatigue and nausea made it challenging to perform at my best. I ultimately made the difficult decision to step back.
I quickly grew larger, and by 20 weeks, people were already asking if I was due any day. A casting director reached out with an audition for a dream role at 36 weeks pregnant. I wept when I declined, knowing my situation. “But that’s happy news! Congratulations! Don’t worry, we’ll remember you. Roles come and go, but babies are forever!” she said, offering hollow comfort.
I continued to cry, feeling like a whale trapped by early contractions, unable to sleep or find clothes that fit. I wondered if I would ever reclaim my former self—the woman equipped with a bag full of audition essentials. It felt like I had lost so much: auditions, roles, and even support from my (all-male) talent agency, who had left me a voicemail during my second trimester to inform me that pregnancy made me a liability.
Freed from the distractions of my career, I embarked on a different kind of labor—motherhood. My child is now nearly 4 years old, and I chose, both out of financial necessity and personal preference, to stay home during her formative years. If there’s any child worthy of such dedication, it’s her. The past four years have felt like a strange mix of time crawling and racing by—a phenomenon any parent can attest to.
I’ve never worked harder yet felt less valued. The limits imposed by early parenthood have brought me peace, but I also feel a growing distance from the professional world. I try to stay updated on political news and indulge in popular shows like “Sherlock,” and I’ve fought to keep my reading habit alive despite claims that parenting extinguishes such pursuits.
Though I’ve not completely stepped away from my craft—participating in local readings, short films, and the occasional commercial—the thought of committing to a long-term project remains daunting. Yet, I have no regrets. It has been a joy to witness my child’s growth firsthand, a luxury many parents would envy. If only there were another decade between my 30s and 40s.
Crossing 46th Street, I caught a glimpse of the Equity lobby, glistening with brass and marble. My daughter pulled me towards the park, lured by the enticing music and lights of the carousel. She starts preschool in the fall, and I wonder if I should start school too. What will it be like to seek roles again? What will I tell potential agents about my journey as a mother? After all, I’d already lost one agency due to my new life circumstances.
Motherhood has imparted a crucial lesson about commitment, teaching me that new roles can emerge when one is ready—or even when they aren’t. I will prepare myself for this next chapter. I will gather my materials, memorize lines, and practice at the ballet barre to revive my stage presence.
In these five years, I’ve walked what felt like a long distance from the acting world. Yet now, I realize it’s been a circular journey—a time’s square, if you will—and I find myself back at the starting point. What’s five years, really? Time may pass, but it cannot extinguish a dream, especially one enriched by these transformative experiences.
As I concluded my thoughts, I addressed Times Square, “I’ll return, I promise.” With that, I metaphorically extracted the bullet from my heart and healed the wound.
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In summary, the journey of motherhood is both challenging and rewarding, filled with moments of nostalgia and hope. As I prepare for a return to my artistic pursuits, I carry the lessons learned from these past five years, ready to embrace new roles when the time is right.