My Realization

I don't have a bachelor in English, or journalism nor a diploma in writing. I am no longer a teenager but not quite an adult (in my eyes) . I do not have a life plan nor any great academic achievement. 

I am a girl who has gone through the natural process of life in order to discover myself. I had attempted (with not much success) achieving a bachelor of nursing, I have attempted a year of the traditionally well respected office job.I have attempted to pay my way through life earning a students salary waitressing. I have by no means found myself. Although i  have come close to finding a version of myself that I took a liking to.

But through all this I have found dreams. I have dreams, like anyone else, of being successful. A dream of finding a life and a means of income that give me the kind of pleasure that makes me bounce out of bed in the morning.

Most of all I have found my dream of being a mother. And although it seems almost historic in its lameness, since a child i have had  a yearning for completeness that motherhood appears to bring. 

I had yearned for the beauty of creating life, the dedication to devoting every inch of my being to a little person. Admittedly as a child the responsibility seemed no more then that of having a puppy but the love seems ten fold greater. I had been by no means naive about my dream to become a mother, just somewhat greatly unaware. 

I found myself at 19 going on 20 looking at where my life was going and had the urge to create the wholesomeness that I had for so long craved. When before I knew it, at the ripe age of 21, my hearts biggest dream had come true. 

In the space of nearly two years my ideals on life, my independence, a lot of what made me who I am (including my figure) had been turned upside down, inside out, 11kg heavier, rounder, and clumsier. But it had come. 

 

                                     

After a relatively unproblematic labour of 8 hours sucking on nothing but gas and oxygen I found my self at this one particular moment that changed my life, the one moment I like to go back to and let all the emotion of the day consume me.

 My not so tiny 9.1lb angel of a daughter was curled in my arms her big brown eyes frantically gazing around the room while she nuzzled into my chest for her first feed. 

Soaking in an abyss of hormones and emotions, as my long blond hair fell down my shoulders my plump breast being punished by my new daughters suckle. It was at that moment I became a mother. Although nine months had prepared me, in all the ways I could comprehend, to be a mother it was right then at that moment I became one with my every being. I had nurtured her for 9 months, given her life and was now providing for her, as my adoring parter gazed over eagerly, with an expression of overwhelming love I had never witnessed before.

                                            

  After a few shorts months ( that seemed to travel at a somewhat blurred speed of light) reality began to sink in. A reality that 2 years earlier,when I could have sworn I had discovered my calling and found confidence  in myself, had been deceiving. 

It had deceived me in so many ways, good and bad. I had not been anywhere near prepared for the overwhelming love and dedication I would feel but most of all had no where near any idea how much of my self I would have to give up to be this idealistic, wholesome, well rounded mother, I had so fondly thought I would be. 

For a whole year I tortured myself with this idea and with the determination of being that, to the point where a few days before my daughters first birthday It suddenly dawned on me; I had loved her so completely and dedicated myself in all my entirety that I Couldn't remember who I was anymore. 

I had already given her my womb, my un-streatched tanned skin, my figure, and everything that I thought made me physically beautiful. Only to look back and find that in the space of a year I had given her what made me, me. I had given her all my love (my poor partner), all my attention, all my conversations, all my thoughts, my every breath. Every inch of my being.

I had discovered I had given her too much. Given my daughter, my most prized possession too much. I had given her myself. 

                                         

With this realization I have began a journey, a journey to once again find myself. To find a balance of who I am and who I want to be. A journey of learning to accept that being a good mother is not measured by sacrifice but rather the love I have to give. That is not how much of my life is hers but rather how much of my life I share with my daughter.