When I was expecting my first child, a realization struck me—not just the fact that my body would change in ways I could never reverse (which was fine), or that I would soon nourish a tiny human with my body (still incredible to think about). What really hit me was the understanding that post-birth, my life would no longer revolve around my own desires. My aspirations, needs, and especially my dreams would take a backseat.
As a child, I was a natural dreamer. I would tell my grandparents that I envisioned a future filled with a sprawling ranch, a herd of horses, a pack of dogs, a couple of cats, and a parrot, all nestled in a bustling city where ice cream was available around the clock, and every meal could be delivered to my door. (At least part of that dream is a reality now—thanks to delivery apps like Yelp.) By the time I became pregnant—after a long and challenging journey—I had refined my dreams. I dreamt of living part-time in both California and Hawaii, owning beachfront property, and still maintaining the desire for that ranch. I envisioned a vibrant life filled with children, friends, adventures, and writing—lots of writing.
The aspiration of becoming a published author was alive in me before my daughter arrived and remained so after. In fact, motherhood made me more focused, determined, and creative. Yet, I found myself believing that my dreams were now secondary to hers. After all, isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be? It felt as if my ambitions were on hold until she was grown and established.
When I was accepted into Pitch Wars, the most prestigious writing competition, I was filled with hope. After five years of crafting my first novel, I thought I was finally on the brink of success. Getting published would not only validate my passion but also support my family, transforming writing from a hobby into a profession. This would justify hiring a babysitter, allowing me to dedicate more time to my craft—while managing the guilt of neglecting my children for my own pursuits.
Editing consumed my time, and while my children were still cared for, I noticed they received more screen time and less home-cooked meals. Then came the moment I had been waiting for—agents expressed interest in my manuscript! However, after a long wait, the rejections started pouring in. They cited lack of romance, concerns about my main character, and more. I was close but not close enough.
Amidst the critique, I received encouraging words from a respected agent who recognized my talent and suggested I write another book. But without representation and with two young kids, a cluttered house, and no financial gain from my efforts, I began to question my goal of becoming a novelist. Writing seemed less like a career and more like an indulgence—a distant dream once more.
In the months that followed, my writing dwindled. I had initially stopped sulking after my Pitch Wars disappointment, but I found myself struggling with guilt every time I attempted to pen my next work. I thought, “Why are you doing this if there’s no guarantee of success?” and “You’re neglecting your children by focusing on your writing.” I felt like I was failing as a mom, missing opportunities to create magical moments with my kids.
Eventually, during a family vacation, I spoke with a friend who had older kids. He shared that the most vital ingredient for raising happy, successful children wasn’t about the schools they attended or the neighborhoods they lived in. It was about the example their parents set—how they lived their lives. This conversation illuminated something within me.
By not pursuing my writing, I was inadvertently teaching my children that it was acceptable to abandon their dreams if instant gratification wasn’t guaranteed. I realized that by not dedicating time to my passions, I was showing them that self-care and personal ambition didn’t matter.
Returning from that trip, I reignited my passion. If I want my daughter to chase her dreams, I must do the same. If I want my son to be brave, I need to exemplify bravery myself. I must write not only for my dreams but for theirs. My children’s needs will always come first, but by pursuing my goals, I create a roadmap for them to follow—a guide to achieving their own aspirations, no matter how daunting.
In this pursuit, I discovered that finding the balance between motherhood and personal ambition is challenging yet essential. It’s about showing my children the importance of hard work, sacrifice, and perseverance. Even if the journey is tough, it’s worth it to model the values I hold dear.
This journey of self-discovery has reaffirmed that nurturing my passion makes me a better mom, proving that I can indeed pursue my dreams while supporting my children’s futures.
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Summary
This article delves into the journey of a mother rediscovering her passion for writing after experiencing the challenges of balancing motherhood with personal aspirations. It emphasizes the importance of pursuing one’s dreams not only for personal fulfillment but also as a way to set a positive example for children. The author reflects on the internal struggles of guilt and the realization that nurturing personal passions can lead to becoming a better parent.