With every ounce of my being, I love these two little people. I made them with the love of my life, and we made them from love, and I love them. I would not trade them for all the tea in China.
But maybe that’s because I’m not a huge fan of tea…
At the moment, they absolutely define me. One is five not far off six. The other is one. So life is all about them right now. It has to be. And it should be. And day to day, that fills me up.
But I have just been looking at an old friend’s Facebook page. Years back, we worked together. We clicked instantly. Time marched on, I had a couple of kids and she is still hugely proactive in building her career as a an actor and dancer. As rightly she should. She is extremely talented.
So I just watched a video clip sowing several minutes of her recent performance. And it was brilliant. She’s gorgeous and fabulous and very talented.
I was happy for her.
As well as feeling like I had a giant emptiness in my belly, as though someone had just socked me. Even now, as I type, I feel it creeping up into my chest.
I am filled with….what? Envy? Longing? Regret? I don’t know. All of it.
I was thinking about dreams recently. Not the kind you have while sleeping but the kind that grow like a seed inside you. In my twenties, I was good to my dreams. I believed in them, I fostered them and nurtured them the best way I knew how.
I have fulfilled a few of my dreams which makes me happy inside. But what of the other dreams?
Having kids doesn’t kill your dreams. It buries them alive. With a mobile phone that keeps sending you text messages – ‘Hey, remember me? I’m not dead! Help me – I NEED to get out!’
Not everyone feels that way. Some people were born to be a mother and in becoming so, they fulfil their greatest dream. They are content.
For me, becoming a mother is a dream come true, too.
But I am, and have always been, a person with lots of dreams. I want to do EVERYTHING.
Ticking the mother box is awesome. A blessing.
But there are still so many other boxes.
So, I was happy for my friend. And overwhelmed by a sense of longing to be back in that world even in some small capacity. But dreams don’t die unless you want them to. And with the acting, dancing, entertainment thing the truth of it is that until I am dead, that dream can continue to have the potential to be fulfilled. The children will get older and both be at school and I will have more time.
So, there ahead in the tunnel, a light.
Of course, I experience residual guilt after these ‘episodes’. My kids are little gifts from above. Little pains, too, sometimes but gifts. Treasures. And it’s hard to reconcile the overwhelming love I have for them, the joy that goes with being their mother, with the competing desire to be someone else, too, someone separate.
There is no answer to any of this. Tomorrow, these feelings will have subsided and I will still be a mum to two of the most beautiful little girl and boy on the planet. And my dreams will be tucked safely away in my soul, waiting for a rainy day.