Finding Yourself In Motherhood

Before I became a mother I would hear sad stories from moms who felt that they lost themselves when they became a parent. That their true selves drowned in a sea of diapers, bottles, and baby spit up, and the second a pregnancy stick turned pink I could say goodbye to life as I knew it.  Honestly, these stories kind of freaked me out. I was only 21 years old, hardly knew who I was, and was not looking forward to trading in my identity to only being, “Just a Mom.” 

Even though these seasoned moms were trying in their own sweet way of trying to prepare me for motherhood, their proclamations actually did me a huge disservice. Even being overjoyed and lovesick with my newborn daughter in my arms, I found myself a little hesitant to fully absorb and embrace my new role. Fearing that once I did, I would subtly and slowly lose myself.

Children, however, have a way of disarming you without you even being aware. Making it nearly impossible to pin point the exact moment when I truly stepped into the role of mom. Maybe it was on a quiet afternoon spent cuddling and nursing my little one. Maybe it was her first fever or her first rough night. Maybe it was rocking her in her room, after a warm bath, singing her to sleep with my off pitch lullabies.

I do know though, that when I became a mother, I didn’t lose myself.

Rather, I found myself.

I discovered the strength and courage that was hidden deep inside of me when struggling with hypermesis, all energy drained from me, too weak to face the day ahead. But I did. I did it for them. Their lives were more valuable than mine. So I fought, fought, and fought.

I discovered compassion that I didn’t know was humanly possible,  when my little one screamed and writhed in pain for months on end. I hurt for her and cried for her. I feel my children’s emotions as deeply as they feel them. I feel their disappointment over a failed grade, and I feel their hurt over misspoken and careless words. Their every bump, scrape, and hurt become my own. I learned that it was possible to love beyond our own scope of understanding. More importantly, I learned that I was capable of loving.

I have rediscovered the joy of being free and childlike. I learned how to drop my unrealistic agendas and swing on the swings, dip my toes into an ice-cold lake, and snack on cookie dough. I’ve learned that little hearts trump magazine perfect homes and bedtime stories and snuggles are far more important than going to bed on time. I’ve learned that there is beauty in messes. Even in the mess that is sometimes me.

Because of my children, I found my voice through written words and photography. At the beginning of each pregnancy (and now a future adoption), I bought a journal for my little one and began to pen my heart to them in the pages. Rediscovering my love for words and for the written expression. Before long, I found myself picking up a camera in an attempt to capture the beauty that is my children. These journals eventually turned into a blog with real, raw, images to tell their story. Which eventually turned into my profession. My children are my inspiration for reaching deep down inside of myself and being real, vulnerable, and authentic. They truly love me for being me, they disregard my shortcomings and failures, and because of that I have learned to love myself.

Motherhood has undeniably grown and shaped my character, but it also opened my eyes to the person I already was. It took tiny, 7lb bundles of cuteness to reveal the beauty, the creativity, the kindness, and the love that is me. A mother.

So, sweet new Mamas-to-be, embrace motherhood fully the way your child embraces you. Beautiful, and wonderful you.