As I strolled through Times Square, a wave of nostalgia hit me like a bullet straight to the heart. Blood pulsed from a wound I couldn’t quite identify, while my toddler’s small hand in mine anchored me back to the present. We were en route to the Bryant Park carousel on a humid summer morning, just emerging from the subway and drenched in sweat when the memories came flooding back.
The bullet originated from the Actors’ Equity building at 165 West 46th Street, a place that had once felt like a second home. This organization represents theater actors, and countless auditions took place in its small rooms. Equity was a cornerstone of my identity and routine, a constant reminder of my pre-baby life. As I navigated the busy streets, surrounded by bright advertisements and throngs of tourists, I was pulled back in time.
It had been five years since I last stepped into 165 West 46th Street, a space filled with both dreams and ambitions. I recalled being 35 when I was cast in a new play, excitement bubbling inside me until an unexpected twist arrived: I was pregnant. The news came during a meeting with the director at a diner, where I nervously revealed that I would soon be welcoming a child. My role as an end-stage cancer patient would coincide with my due date, and just like that, my journey as an artist began to shift.
As my pregnancy progressed, I found myself overwhelmed. In my first trimester, attempting auditions became increasingly difficult due to morning sickness and fatigue. By the time I was 36 weeks along, a casting director called with a dream opportunity, but my emotions poured out as I explained my situation. “But that’s joyful news! Congratulations!” she said, offering hollow comfort that did little to ease my disappointment.
The transition to motherhood came at a steep price. I surrendered my aspirations, my auditions, and the life I once knew. Yet as I embraced my role as a stay-at-home parent, I found joy in every moment spent with my little one. Now, at nearly four years old, my child has transformed my world in ways I never imagined. Parenting has been both a slow and rapid experience, turning the laws of time upside down.
In these four years, I’ve never felt so hard at work yet so unqualified. I have struggled to stay connected to the outside world, attempting to keep up with the latest shows and read articles, all while chasing after my energetic toddler. I manage to squeeze in local readings and short film shoots, but long-term projects remain out of reach.
Despite the sacrifices, I have no regrets. Watching my daughter grow has been a privilege that many parents dream of. I sometimes wish there were an extra decade between my 30s and 40s, but my heart is full.
As we crossed 46th Street, I caught a glimpse of the Equity lobby’s gleaming brass and marble. My daughter tugged me toward the park, where the carousel’s music beckoned. With her starting preschool in the fall, I pondered my own path. Would I return to acting? What would I say to agents? Would I mention my child?
Motherhood has taught me the power of commitment and adaptability. Even when unprepared, necessity pushes us to embrace new roles. I’m ready to dive back into the world of theater. I’ll gather my supplies, memorize my lines, and train for the stage once more.
After five years of navigating this journey, I realize it hasn’t been a departure from my dreams but rather a circle back to where I started. The passage of time may have altered my path, but it cannot extinguish my aspirations.
I’ll see you soon, Equity audition rooms. I’ll be back. As I plucked that metaphorical bullet from my chest, I sealed the wound and stepped forward.
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