It's Layla's mom!

I remember the first time that I truly GOT that I was somebody’s mother. I was picking Layla up from daycare one day when she was a baby, and one of the kids came running up to see who was there. He immediately turned around and yelled “It’s Layla’s mom, YAY!” as he bounded away. And there I sat, frozen as my brain and body tried to process what had just happened. My vision narrowed, breathing got very shallow, I lost feeling to my arms and legs, started sweating, and swayed a little. At the time, since this was followed by a flood of endorphins being released, I attributed it to a powerful and moving experience, instead of truly listening to what my body was saying.

Fight. Or Flight.

And there I was I pondering the joys of motherhood and the fact that I would forever be viewed as someone’s mother and how wonderful that was, when all along my body was telling me to run away! Run away! I should have listened. But first time mom that I was chose to feel the flower and sunshine feelings. And of course this happens pre-toddlerhood. Cause the mom of a toddler would get what that feeling truly was. Terror.

But in that moment I did realize how easy it would be for someone to lose themselves and their identity to momdom. I got how easy it would be to push your kids too far, too fast, too hard, and demand perfection because if you allow your identity to only be that of someone’s mom, you are very likely to try and live vicariously through them. Plus, who wants to be known as the mom of the little shit, especially if you don’t see yourself as anything but that mom of the little shit.