It's Not Am I Mom Enough, It's Am I Me Enough

From the moment that my delicious son, Matthew, entered my life, he has been my world. In the really early days my entire being functioned around what he needed. I slept when he slept, I ate between his feedings. I changed diapers, ran to pediatrician's appointments and prewashed about a thousand items of clothing. When I factored in my own needs at all, they were always secondary to his. Through the last nine months he has grown, and the intense burden of the newborn days has been relieved a bit, but he is still the focus of most of my time.

I have never once questioned if I was "mom enough," as the provocative Time article has done. In fact, the question that I wondered more often than any other was if I was "me" enough. The life of a new mother is intense. It is incredible, but it is also all-consuming. I struggled, and still struggle, with trying to maintain my identity as I adapt to this new role.

Part of what made this struggle so profound for me is the total confusion of what my body, and all of its parts, are for. For the first 29 years of my life, my breasts had no other purpose other than to look pretty. They were ornamental at best, used to attract men and make tank tops look better. Suddenly, I give birth to a baby, and they've become the most functional, incredible, life-sustaining organs. It is a mind-boggling turn of events, one that I have not quite wrapped my brain around, even now.

I have very much enjoyed nursing my son. I still breastfeed him at night before bed and first thing in the morning. But I can say honestly that I will not feel that I am truly myself again until my breasts are my own. It is true that parenting requires sacrifice. There are many things I am sure I will give up along the way for my children. But my identity is not one of them. Three years is too long for me to be in the midst of this identity crisis. And truthfully, my husband deserves time when he is not sharing my body with our son.

I try very hard not to judge other mothers. We are all out here, fighting the good fight, doing what we can to give our sons and daughters the best possible lives. If you choose to nurse your child through toddlerhood, that is your prerogative. But do not suggest that if I do not that I am less of a mother than you are. I am a mother with every fiber of my being. Where I fear I may be lacking is as a wife. As a friend. Maybe as a daughter. But as a mother? Don't be ridiculous.