A first time mom.
But before that, I was a wife for the passed decade.
I was also just me.
A dreamer. Creative thinker.
Hard worker with an aversion to scheduled work, because I liked working when I liked to, not because I had to.
Someone that loved to "dance to the beat of my own drum". (Figuratively not literally)
The kind of person that couldn't stand to be told when or how to do things, but would do them at the pace I wanted and in the methodical or random way I deemed fit. (Which would tend to have great results by the way, so the tenaciousness paid off.)
A person that required AMPLE 'me' time.
Stubborn, though oddly flexible.
An emotional person in whichever way my mood settled in that day.
A worrier, even though I had no reason to be.
And ultimately, a person that absolutely enjoyed the beauty of doing nothing.
In all honesty, I was a selfish person with no qualms admitting to it.
So now I'm a mom.
With a ton of responsibility.
Responsibility I could've never imagined exactly how it would fall on my shoulders. How I would handle it all, and most importantly, cope with the drastic takeover of my time, my routines, and my identity.
I worried, (necessarily) if I would maybe, perhaps, just a tiny bit- resent my son for his hostile takeover.
For things I would be "giving up" or "letting go".
I worried before he was born if I didn't experience that immediate oh-my-god-I'm-so-in-love feeling when they put him in my arms, if that meant I was a cold, heartless person.
Well let me tell you, I didn't immediately experience that.
I was initially shocked with the attention this little itty-bitty being demanded.
It was a do-now and think-later mentality.
Could I imagine my life without him?
Yes, I could.
It's called remembering the poor excuse of a life I led before he existed.
So the question really isn't could I imagine a life without him, it was would I want one without him?
My answer is an instantaneous NO.
No, I would never, ever, EVER want to go back to the life I had before.
Because of my son, my life has a true aim.
All that ample time I had before? It was taken for granted. It was wasted. It was unappreciated.
Not because I didn't make the most of it before, no. It was because it was so easily available, I didn't truly savor it.
And now? Now my limited time is being experienced in the present.
Because I see how fast time is passing before my eyes with each milestone, growth spurt and experience with my boy.
And they are slipping through my fingers because there isn't a single thing I can do to stop it. The only thing I can do, is savor the moment. Live it and truly be in it.
Naturally things were rearranged in my life.
Before my son, before I lost all sense of the old me, I took my sweet ass time with everything. (With the book too)
Does it mean I'm rushing through things now?
Because my boy has unknowingly taught me what is and isn't truly important. What the real priorities are. To do things right or not to do them at all.
And I like these new changes in me.
Did I need to adjust? Of course. It's still a transition every day.
Was the change hard? In all honestly, not really.
It was so innate, the evolution has been almost seamless. It feels almost as if I've always thought this new way, felt these new emotions, always did these things.
Gone are the moments I let pass me by because I think I have all the time in the world.
Now time carries weight. I really make the best of what I do have.
And I don't mean the 'me' time I used to have, no.
I mean the time I have with him. With my husband.
The fleeting moments I'll never ever have back again.
See, before he was born, I was everything I described above, along with some noble and good qualities too. (I'm not all bad!)
But now, my perspective has drastically changed.
I'm calmer. Less worrisome. Selfless without wanting anything in return.
I imagined I would have found being my child's "bitch" unpleasant. (lol)
It's tiring, absolutely.
But it comes with an odd sense of peace. A feeling of accomplishment. Because those countless dirty diapers? The round the clock and overtime nursing? The lack of sleep? The diminishing daytime naps, because now he's more aware and requires more attention?
It means he's thriving.
Does it all feel like a chore? Not one bit.
(See the change in perspective here?)
I was a terrible housewife before. I realize that now.
I hated cleaning, disliked cooking. I did them, but I half assed them.
Now, while I still don't relish them- they come with a new sense of function.
I keep my home neat because I like to provide our family with a sanctuary.
I cook with zest and creativity now because I want to delight in delicious nourishment I can offer.
It takes up most of my day, yes. I can make other things my priority, but it all rearranged itself in my life the way it should be right now, and I don't feel jipped about it.
So what about my book?
Well, I think about it all the time...
I do touch upon it here and there...
Will I get back to it at some point?
But when the time is right.
Because right now it isn't.
Right now is my beautiful boy's time.
And when I can dive back into the story again, the time spent doing so will be significant.
It won't be written assuming I have all the time in the world again, so I can waste it.
It'll be written with worthiness.
Am I still jotting down notes, and editing what I currently have?
It just takes me a liiiiiiiiittle bit longer than it used to, and you know what?
I am so okay with that.
My book isn't going anywhere, but my life is.