Mother of an identity

by Felicity Chapman

 

When did I start feeling like a mother? Was it the moment I stared, open-mouthed, at the positive pregnancy test? Was it that first Mothers Day that I proudly posed, babe in arms, at the camera? Or was it the day I showed our little boy off to my former colleagues?

The truth is there was no ‘moment’, but a subtle mix of experiences that have indelibly transformed my being – like how tide and wind can gradually transform a coastal landscape.

It’s hard to believe that once motherhood was about as familiar to me as living in Cuba (and a Cuban jaunt much more desirable). Before those maternal instincts propelled me toward motherland I evaded, and was indifferent to, most things maternal. Cute baby at the supermarket? ...Whatever. 

But here I sit feeling like I have been a mother all of my life. As my youngest boy is about to start pre-school I wonder how my identity as ‘mother’ has become so strong.

When I first became a mother, it felt like I had just bought a fabulous pair of new shoes. I loved the way they looked but what I would do to take them off for a while!  One minute I liked my new world and the next I was gasping for air. The landscape was changing, and with it, my identity.

What were those defining moments that heralded this new identity? I wonder to myself. 

Perhaps it was that fierce protection I felt for my baby knowing that if a dog dared to threaten our leisurely stroll I would surely eat the dog alive. Maybe it was when I quietly acknowledged on the Census form  that I was no longer a ‘worker’ as they defined it – no longer feeling ‘valid’ in a world that prized paid employment. 

Perhaps it was when I felt numb and desperate as I pleaded for my baby to sleep; or when my heart would nearly burst with love (and relief) as I gazed at my sleeping toddler. 

Maybe it was the many moments that I unflinchingly changed a nappy or flushed the contents of a potty, or found (to my horror) that I was calling my children ‘Lovey’. 

I feel like a mother when I dress my youngest in the morning and tie his pants up around his little boyish tummy.  I feel like a mother when my eldest, who has Aspergers, looks at me briefly with big you’re-my-world eyes.

I feel like a mother when, while I’m wondering if I will ever find myself in this sea of unrelenting labour (and if feminism is just a joke), I realise that the old me doesn’t exist anymore anyway. 

Sure I can try and reclaim past hobbies and reinvent my professional life, but the ‘who I am now’ is not only different but deeper. Motherhood has not just added a dimension to my identity; it has changed it from a pretty watercolour to a rich tapestry of strength and tenderness.

Those fabulous looking shoes are now comfortable as well. Being a mum is now a big part of my identity.

 

© Felicity Chapman
This article is also published on Mothers Be Heard