Stolen moments

There are secrets about becoming a parent that few people really talk about. One of them is that you grieve your old life, even as you feel guilty about it. And perhaps I do that more because I became a mother in my late 30s--which means I had quite a few years of childlessness. So I might have more to miss.

Please don't get me wrong--I love being a mother. I can't imagine the world without my son now. But there are things about my previous life that I miss. Maybe there are those of you out there who yearn for these things too.

Here are some experiences I miss:

• Being able to decide, "hey, I'm going to the museum/the movies/out to dinner today," and just doing it. No need for a sitter, no need for an arsenal of baby supplies or scheduling around naps or bedtime. Just doing it.
• Sleeping in. At all. Ever.
• The luxury of a long heart-to-heart with a friend that isn't sidelined by a baby having a meltdown, or babbling, or doing something new, or just generally drawing all the attention of the people in the room.
• A long, uninterrupted chat with a friend on the phone.
• Possibility. Even if you might not do it, daydreaming that you could suddenly move to Paris, or join the Peace Corps, or work on a cruise ship, without immediately realizing the practical downfalls of said plan for a one-year-old in tow.
• Still being able to feel like the child yourself, even if you're a 30-something with a full-time job and a car payment.
• Having the full attention of your parents--being able to chat with them about something other than the grandchild.
• Having people notice you as a separate person, and not merely the child's mom.
• Your pre-baby body. Yes, it's OK to miss it.
• Being your own, whole, separate woman with interests and a well-rounded life. I know, that probably sounds horrible. But at least in the beginning, it can feel like that goes away, and it takes a while to get it back. Or so I hear--I haven't completely gotten it back yet.

Again, I love my son, dearly, unendingly, and I wouldn't change anything. I wanted to have him. I'm lucky to have him. But these are the truths no one tells you going in. You will miss your old life. You will grieve. You will yearn for it. You will yearn for those moments that seem like pure luxury now--those moments of being able to think for yourself, dream for yourself, be yourself.

I hear balance returns, and it has returned for me at times. But I'm still finding my equilibrium, and I'm still sad sometimes. And life will never be as it was before.

For now, I relish stolen moments to think, to be--to be me. Stolen moments like this one.