Catalysts

Last night, as I was sitting in the bathroom, listening to RD narrate his nightly poop, I had that feeling of love overwhelm me.

You know the one, where your chest aches because it can’t hold the love you feel? That one.

Obviously, it wasn’t because of the conversation. But, it was because of the silly boy who was using gestures and changing the tone of his voice to match what he was saying.

There’s been a lot of conversations lately about my mental health, my struggle with certain aspects of our life, and how much of it started during my pregnancy with Roarke, the subsequent post-partum depression, topped off with the chaos of 2020.

In a way, Roarke seems to be a catalyst for change in my life.

Obviously, I don’t mean this negatively, and I’m not blaming the pandemic and the hell that came with it on my two year old, who hadn’t even hit one when it all started. I mean it more in a sense of…awareness, of overwhelm, of growth, of love.

Now, facing decisions and choices that are, without a doubt, life changing, I look into this deceptively sweet face, and again see changes coming.

I’m at a point in my life where this silly boy and his too-serious brother are the only things that matter.

Any choices I make, any movement in my life of any kind is because of these two. What’s best for them? What can I do for them?

Yeah, Roarke’s arrival rocked my world negatively for a hot minute, but even that made me who I am now. Stronger, wiser, able to love more than I could have possibly imagined.

So, maybe catalysts are positive.

Maybe–just maybe–the biggest challenges, the biggest obstacles we face, the mountains we encounter make us who we’re supposed to be.

Not that I’m there yet, I feel like I still have a long way to go before I get there, in fact. But, I do believe I’m on the way to being that person, and it’s all because of my boys: the one who made me a mom-the first major change; and the catalyst-who put the rest of our life into motion.

I hate using motherhood as the only definition of myself. I feel lost in the sea of who I am in terms of motherhood, being a wife, a teacher. I struggle to find myself in the mist of this stage of my life. Who I am, who I was. Because, let me tell you, their not the same person.

But, even though I don’t want to, feel lost in the idea of, being solely defined by being a mom, I also think that without the journey of motherhood, I wouldn’t have changed. I would still be selfish, and lacking the confidence to stand up for the things I want or believe.

I’m not just a mother-but I am who I am. I will become what I’m supposed to become-because of motherhood, because of my sons.

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