Alternate title: Lost.

That’s how I feel sometimes—like I’ve lost myself to this person people keep calling Mom. I’m no longer Heather—I’m Mrs. Sokol, Stacia’s Mom, Brenia’s Keeper, Lorelai’s Milk Jugs—but what about me? Am I still in there somewhere?

Last year’s piercings were a half-hearted attempt to reassert myself as an individual. I can do this because I want to. It was something that wasn’t wrapped up in my children, wasn’t dependent on s0meone else’s schedule or approval—it was all mine. Last week I died my hair red for the same reason. It almost turned out purple and I think I might have enjoyed that even more. It’s finally settled into an auburn of sorts. Clearly not natural, definitely unique—it’s all my own.

Next year, maybe I’ll get a tattoo—just kidding, Mom!

I feel like a caterpillar. I’ve spent the last 8 years cocooned in motherhood—nursing babies, changing diapers, cleaning bodily fluids, driving carpool, cheering at soccer games, filming musical performances—that I sort of got lost in there. I can’t even remember who I used to be or what it was I did. I know there was something—I didn’t spend my first 20 years waiting to be a mom. It just sort of happened.

I came out the other side completely transformed. My interests became their interests. My life became theirs. My happiness was suddenly dependent on the well-being of these little creatures who call me Mom. Yet, I don’t feel like a butterfly. I just feel lost. I keep searching for me. Waiting for things to go back to normal, whatever that may be.

Becoming a parent changes you. That much I knew going in. What I didn’t truly get was that the change is permanent! I think somewhere in the back of my mind I thought I’d get the kids in school and go back to being Just Heather. Except, I don’t know her anymore.

If I could just glimpse a few pieces of who I used to be, maybe I’ll finally see the beauty of it all.