A year has passed since I wrote for the mommy blog; a chunk of time extensive enough that the password had been forgotten. Perhaps this act of negligence encapsulates the things I consciously let slip by.
Almost 5,000 people have visited this third baby of mine since its inception. Thinking back now, I am convinced I was (am?) insane, as Vivienne was a mere three months old. Sleep deprived, certainly, in terms of birthing babies, raising children, switching jobs, maintaining a household, working on a marriage. Fabulous, indeed, for these exact same reasons, with heels and cocktails and friends thrown into the mix.
My life had blossomed into what I had always dreamed about, planned for, and worked towards. And yet, something didn’t fit, and I wanted more. Trapped in my roles of wife, mother, daughter, lover, confidant, and sister, I sought a re-invention of myself, inclusive but separate from any other aspect of my life. Describing my “more,” defining where it stemmed from, and figuring out how to move forward was challenging.
We talked, yelled, cried. The winter drenched us in grey. We discussed a break and clang desperately to each other while simultaneously trying to escape. We went to therapy, started a blog, and gained new outlooks that tore us further apart.
He told me he felt like a chapter in my book that had been written, finished, and tossed aside.
We talked, yelled, cried. We wondered if we had ever really been on the same page. We realized we had existed next to each other and ended up losing ourselves. We agreed “we” was irreparable.
Fifteen years is a long chapter, especially when it has been co-authored.
I’m still a mommy, half the time. Sleep deprived, certainly, in terms of dancing until bar-time, going to midnight movies, making new connections and partaking in adventures. Fabulous, indeed, for these exact same reasons, with parenting plans and sleeping in an empty bed and separating households thrown into the mix.
I find myself questioning if it really is fabulous to choose this life. Some mornings, I awake and feel a freedom I’ve never experienced before. Other days are soaked in sadness and a crushing sense of loss. I’m finding my way again, discovering new paths, and living a life I hadn’t imagined. In the end, the “more” I was seeking has turned out to be simply me.
I am sleep deprived and fabulous. (?) and (!).
Man, it can be weird how very different the two lives of a single parent can be. So different, it’s hard sometimes not to feel like two very opposite, separate people. And, often, the victim of trying to reconcile these two lives is sleep. It can be so rewarding, though, to juggle the two different sets of values in one skin and find that balance between saturday night dancing fabulous and sunday morning story time fabulous! It’s fun to be both.