When a mother is born, a woman is mourned

I recently saw this inscription on Pinterest or Facebook or someplace: When a baby is born, so too is a mother.

Go ahead, place a hand on your heart and let a tear well in your eye.

And as you do so, think of this: what happens to the woman in all this? Where does she go? Who does she become?

No one thinks of her. Of the woman who spontaneously goes out for drinks with friends without having to orchestrate a mission akin to taking down a guerrilla offensive. Of the woman who could wile hours away shoe shopping without her boobs overfilling with milk and her babe hollering for her next feeding. Of the woman who would serve a satisfying bowl of cereal for dinner without the fear that she’s causing irreparable nutritional damage to her offspring. Or, of the woman who was always “leaning in” and willing to put in the hours needed to make it to the next rung up the proverbial ladder without contemplating the impact it would have on everyone else’s life.

That woman is forgotten.

Thinking of her, the sentiment above needs to be extended: When a mother is born, a woman is mourned.

I only recently realized the woman I once was is no longer. It started around the time of my second and last daughter’s first birthday. I realized my baby girl no longer needed me as much as she used to. I was no longer her main feeding source and her fierce independence was flourishing – she was sleeping through the night, eating on her own, taking steps with no hands and more new tricks every day. She was doing all the things I wished for to be able to do during those 3am feedings just months ago, but now that it was here, what was to become of me.

Yes, of course, I still have many years of mothering ahead of me, but the demands and concerns of toddlers and stages beyond differ from those required of infants. 

Over the months, as my baby has grown into a full-fledged toddler (how does the time pass so quickly?), I’ve begun to realize that I no longer have excuses to put off getting back to who I used to be. As we near her second birthday, what is the reason for not losing these last 10 lbs? With a solid night-time routine that gets both girls in bed before 8:30, why am I not spending my evening hours focused on me and the things I once loved – writing, baking and others? With the girls happily settled into daycare and loving it, why wasn’t I throwing my name in the hat for the next project at work?

For the last several months, I’ve dedicated fruitless hours trying to become the woman I used to be. And then, it dawned on me. I’ll never be that woman again. While there are some residual remains, she is gone, dead, a figment of my past.

I mourn her. I miss her. Dearly.