The Disappearing Mother

Brian and I got married in 1998. On a beautiful day in June that we hand-picked, we started our family, our future, our new life.

We had our first baby in 2000. It felt like we were the king and queen of the castle. OUR castle. For the next thirteen years, we added more babies and more babies until we had six! Six children!

Brian worked hard through all his medical trainings and job. I worked hard taking care of all the little ones at home. It was A LOT, and there were days where I wanted to run away, but most of the time, I loved it. I had my own little army, and I was their leader! For a bossy girl like myself, it was a dream come true.

Over time, I started noticing some things.

At first, our lives revolved around Brian and me. Our friends. Our interests. Our parties. But as our kids grew, that dynamic changed. All of a sudden we were very involved in the kids’ activities, and their lives.

Hmmm.

This is where things were getting a bit murky. After my last baby was born, I went from seeing my OB really often to never. She was more than a doctor to me, she was my friend! Yet I didn’t see her anymore. That part of my life—of me—disappeared.

Six kids also means A LOT of orthodontic work. I went to so many appointments over the years that I felt like the orthodontists and I were friends. Friends. I’ve begun wondering if that is true? When my youngest son completes his braces in a short while—are these people really friends? Will I see them again? Or was I always just the mother of a patient? It’s another part of my disappearing act.

Starting in 2018, my kids began leaving home to start their adulting. Of course! That is a mother’s plan from the beginning. What surprised me was how quickly their growing up was tied to my disappearance. When one kid left, so did their friends and the parents of those friends—my friends.

My six-man army that I adored and loved bossing around had shrunk to half its size. This was quite a change in itself, but when you took away all those kids’ activities and hobbies and demands and friends, the loss felt enormous.

I am disappearing.

In all honesty, I DO have three kids still at home. But two of those three can drive and can function just fine whether I am here or not. It’s difficult to exist as the same person in this place. I am a Nintendo Gameboy—something that used to be pretty cool, and is now irrelevant.

SIGH.

Is this a mid-life crisis? Must I move to Italy? Live in Tuscany? Buy an inn in the northeast and start a bed and breakfast?

HAHA.

Let’s not be silly.🤪

In all my thinking about the disappearing mother, I have decided to use some time trying out new interests. Maybe try a new hobby or two, or ten.

In the meantime, if you catch me tearing up, or think I look a bit lost, remember that a mother’s disappearing act is not easy. It is not for the weak.

I’m doing my best. And like I tell my kids—my best is kind of terrible.😜