Momnesia

I'm back at work today.

Walking into the parking garage, using my badge to take the elevator up to my floor, putting my things in the break room, turning on the lights in my office, signing into my computer . . . all these things that once felt so normal to me suddenly felt so . . . alien.

My maternity leave with baby girl was an exercise in adaptability and endurance. I went through such profound life changes with her, changes that I had a hard time adapting to, that my return to work, while difficult, was still a welcome break. It was a return, for me, to the person I had been before. It was reclaiming a piece of my identity that I needed to reclaim, that I needed to hold onto to avoid losing my sense of self completely in the new world of motherhood I'd been submersed in.

How different my leave has been . . . or rather, was . . . with my little man. With him, I didn't go through an identity crisis. I already was a mom when he came along. He simply added to my role as a mother. I didn't face any of the struggles I'd endured the first time around with things like coming to terms with the birth, struggles with breastfeeding, never knowing if I was doing the right thing as a parent, wondering if I was constantly making a mistake. With him, I knew from experience that everything would be okay. If he nurses poorly for one session, if he misses a nap, if he cries inexplicably . . . I knew that all of these things were temporary blips that were bound to happen and then be gone. I was more relaxed. I was more confident. I was able to let go of all that anxiety and just enjoy being a mother to a teeny tiny newborn. To a teeny, tiny, incredibly easy newborn. I had time to snuggle him and play and visit with my friends and run errands and work out and cook dinner and do chores. Yes there were bad nap days, and days I looked at the clock to make sure that my husband would be coming home soon to give me a break, but those days were so few and far between. My leave with my little man has been 12 weeks of reveling in life with my baby.

And somewhere along the way, I lost myself.

The old me.

The professional me who valued my career and relished the intellectual challenges it gave me. The athletic me who found clarity in pushing myself farther or harder. Even the wife-me, the me who values my relationship with my husband above and apart from our kids, from our roles as parents.

For the last 12 weeks, I've sunk deeper and deeper into the mom-me. And I've loved it. The feelings of fulfillment and joy a mom gets from her kids is unmatched. It became all I needed. I started thinking about myself only in terms of my role as a mother. I started identifying myself only in terms of my role as a mother.

I don't remember who I was before.

Which is why walking into my office building this morning was so dissonant for me. This is a place the mom-me didn't rule. I have pictures of my kids up, decorating my office, of course, but this is where the other parts of me got their fair attention. This is where I continued to nurture and develop the other parts of me that had nothing to do with my role as a mother.

And this morning, I couldn't remember what those other parts were, much less why I'd want to spend my time and attention developing them when I could be at home, snuggling my baby.

It's a strange feeling to know that you have forgotten who you used to be.

But the thing is, I know that I'm not so far gone that I have no interest in remembering.

I know it's important to have other aspects to my identity. I know that rationally (while on my emotional level, all I want is to pack up my stuff, go home with my kids and never look back). Being here will help me remember why. Being here will help me rediscover the other parts of me, the other things that used to be important and that likely still are, somewhere deep inside, buried underneath 12 weeks of newborn snuggles.

Going through emails, seeing the names of coworkers and old projects, already have started to help me remember who I was. And as I get a new project to work on, new goals, new tasks, new challenges, those will all help bring out the old me, too.

But it will be a new-old me. I'll remember my old priorities and identities (yes, plural), but those will be tempered with my new priorities and identity as the mom of two, just like what happened when I became the mom of one.

And someday soon, I know, I'll emerge from this cloud of momnesia a new, old, better, stronger, more complete woman.