Missing

I don't particularly like the popular "thing". In fact, I often resist the popular thing until enough people that I trust tell me they like "it". Then I'll cave in, and usually the result is good. Harry Potter is just one example of me being late to the bandwagon. I also react to what I perceive as silly, ridiculous, or unnecessary norms. Like feeling fat when you're pregnant. Why would you feel fat you're pregnant silly, feel pregnant. Or so I thought until I hit the 18 (or so) week mark. I didn't look pregnant. I looked chubby. And I felt fat. Oh. I get it now.

I had another one of these moments Saturday. We were at a memorial service for Ryan's great-aunt Leila who died recently of pancreatic cancer. Griffin's great-great-aunt whom he was blessed to meet Christmas Eve. Of course we brought Griffin to the service. It was a celebration of life service. Leila's life was lived full and well and there was much to remember and celebrate. Griffin took a great nap in the morning, I was hopeful that he would calmly enjoy the service too. (You're laughing already, aren't you?). The ride down to Seattle wasn't long but it was about 3 minutes too long and I couldn't keep Griffin awake. Which means when I took him out of his carseat he woke up. And wouldn't go back to sleep.

So I missed all but the first 5 minutes of the service. Walking a grumpy baby up and down the walkway of Roosevelt High school. In the rain. Until I got blisters on my feet from my fancy shoes. Until my straightened hair got frizzy again. Until I lost my necklace, a gift from my husband on our first Valentine's Day, because said grumpy baby kept pulling on it. So I took it off and put it in my pocket. Or so I thought.

And there, in the rain, with a grumpy baby and blisters on my feet, I "got it". How a woman can feel like she loses her identity in motherhood. I was missing the service. And no one was missing me. I wanted someone to miss me, to come out and say, "I miss you Sarah. Come inside." But no one missed Sarah. Because I'm not just Sarah anymore. I'm "Mommy". And mommy was walking a grumpy baby back and forth, back and forth. I was just a little bit hurt. A little bit resentful of this leech who had stolen my identity. And quite a bit bitter.

Don't worry, I got over it. I have a fabulous husband who puts up with my feelings and mood swings and somehow loves me back from the edge. I think most of the extended family could tell something was wrong, for their sake I chalked it up to loosing a sentimental necklace. But inside I was having a full-fledged idenitity crisis and desperately needed a safe place to melt down. Have I mentioned I haven't slept in 7 months. Oh, well, I haven't. I'm a little unstable at times:)

So I'm a little bit more understanding now. Of mommies everywhere who are wondering how they balance "insert your name here" and "mommy" without short-changing the husband or leech, I mean baby. What can I say? I'm a work in progress...I'll figure it out:)