I Thought Motherhood Would Be Purpose Enough and I Was Wrong
Prompt #50: A sense of purpose
I’m ashamed to admit it, but I lost my sense of purpose when I became a mother 30 years ago.
I lacked sufficient self-awareness back then to describe how I felt, but that’s exactly what happened.
I kept my confusion hidden of course. I’d anticipated being so crazy about my baby that I’d care about nothing else.
That’s what was supposed to happen, right? — especially if you came from a traditional Catholic family.
Never mind that up to that point, my unexamined purpose had resided in me, me, me: My pursuits, my values, my efforts, my passions, my day-to-day, week-to-week, and month-to-month.
Sure, other humans had always figured in my sense of purpose. But every relationship I’d had — daughter, sister, friend, wife, neighbor — had evolved over a lifetime and outside of my body.
No human-to-human experience had prepared me for motherhood. None had shaken my sense of control over my life like it.
Perhaps I wasn’t generous enough, or the hormones that trigger maternal instinct malfunctioned when my breasts became so engorged that nursing, instead of being the bonding experience I’d read about, felt like a prolonged…
