Mom, that’s what I’m called now- not by my kid, his grasp of the English language currently consists of random vowels being strung together, but by the rest of the world. Conversations that used to be filled with talk of politics and current events (let’s be real- gossip and work), are now filled with talk of breast feeding and poopy diapers. I find myself talking to practical strangers about how much weight our children have gained, maternity leave and at what age their kids started sleeping through the night.
I have a vague memory of having outside interests prior to getting pregnant. I have fleeting flashbacks of nights out with girlfriends and dinner and drinks downtown that lasted late into the night. These days, I’m still up at 2:00 AM on Saturday nights, but now it is to feed a hungry infant, not because of late night dance parties with friends.
I spent 30 years becoming the person that I was pre-baby, and it is a little hard to give that identity up. Adjusting to being responsible for a whole other person is not easy- it is no longer possible to take off for a weekend getaway on a whim, or even run out to get a pedicure, but the trade off is a constant supply of baby cuddles and 4 AM smiles. Do I sometimes miss the nights sitting outside with friends, a beer in hand? Absolutely. Would I trade what I have now to get those nights back? Never in a million years.