By: Sophie Reynolds
I feel like my identity has been snatched away, and the culprits? My adorable trio of little ones. Instead of being known as “Sophie,” I’ve become “MOM!” “MAMA!” “MOMMY!” and occasionally, with a dramatic flair, “Mother.” This isn’t quite the version of myself I remember. Once, I was a bold, fiercely independent woman who didn’t ponder crib bumpers or car seat regulations. I went to bed whenever I pleased and enjoyed uninterrupted sleep. Rearranging my living room was a spontaneous activity whenever I needed a change of scenery. I spent my free time socializing with friends, diving into novels, and binge-watching my favorite films, making decisions solely for myself.
Now, I’m a mom who worries about screen time and finds herself teary over lost teeth. Each night, I face a bedtime battle with my three children, as they seem to think bedtime is a form of medieval torture. Time and energy are scarce, so the thought of tidying up is often pushed aside. Free time? What’s that? The choices I make now are carefully weighed against the needs of my little ones.
These delightful little rascals have truly taken my identity. Yet, I find it amusing that I don’t really want to reclaim it. Okay, maybe that’s not entirely accurate. In moments of exhaustion, surrounded by the chaos of motherhood, I sometimes reminisce about my pre-mom life. But those thoughts are fleeting. I wouldn’t exchange my current identity for anything.
However, I do yearn for a semblance of privacy. Since the moment my first little one was conceived, my body has been a shared space. Despite the fact that I cut the umbilical cords (which I distinctly remember), an invisible connection seems to tether them to me throughout the house. If I rise early for a moment of solitude, they wake up too. If I step out for a phone call, they follow me like little shadows. I used to find peace in meditation—HA! The days of enjoying a bathroom visit alone? Those are just distant memories. My kids have seen me in various states of undress so often that they may have some Freudian revelations later in life, and it’ll be all their doing.
People sometimes inquire about my privacy concerns as an online writer. Yes, I have them, but they pale in comparison to my daily struggles for privacy at home. And who can I turn to about these frustrations? “Well, Ma’am, that’s simply part of motherhood,” they’d say with a shrug. Thank goodness these little ones are so irresistibly cute!
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In summary, motherhood has transformed my identity in ways I never imagined. While my private moments seem to vanish, the joy these little ones bring outweighs the chaos.