Are You My Mother?

The imperfect intersection of motherhood and identity

Photo by Laurent Peignault on Unsplash

I’m taking a break from the pop culture deep dives to write about something else close to my heart: motherhood. I’ve said that there won’t be much parenting or motherhood content here, mainly because I wrote about all things parenting for five years, plus I now write about parenting for Autostraddle. I don’t want to use my free time writing for something I usually get paid for honestly. But as I was searching for something new to write about (I’m still getting used to this constant flow of content idea!) the idea stork dropped this idea in my lap. 

“Mom? Why do people call you J’s mom?” he asked as I was putting him to bed Monday night.

“Well, because some people know me as your mom, so it’s the easiest way to refer to me,” I said, tucking him in and smothering his face with kisses.

Earlier that day, we went to a friend’s house for a Labor Day pool party. When we got there, my son jumped right into the pool with the other kids, while Beth and I were introduced to the other adults. One of the other parents there asked which kid was our and said, “Okay, I’m just going to refer to you as J’s parents.” I laughed it off because yeah, that makes sense. 

Parents often identify each other by the names of our kids. I have all of my son’s friend’s parents names in my phone as “Mary (X’s mom)” or when I talk to my son or Beth about another parent, I’ll say “I saw so and so’s mom today.” My brain can’t retain the names of a bunch of adults who I will only talk to because our kids are in the same class or whatever. It’s how you differentiate between who is a friend and who is just an acquaintance really. There are times I will fully forget what the parent’s name is but remember the kid, even if we had a whole conversation. I am also notoriously bad at remembering names.

After I put my guy to bed, I went back to the couch and relayed the conversation back to Beth. I found it so interesting that he asked me such a question. I didn’t think he paid much attention to how other adults referred to me, at least not enough to ask me why. He seemed satisfied with my answer, but it led me to think more on it. Does he see me as someone other than his mom, and that’s why he’s confused that other people don’t? Or is it simply that he knows that I have a name and is confused that people don’t use it? 

“You know, I don’t think I saw my mom as her own person until I became a mom myself,” I told Beth.

I wish I was exaggerating, but I truly am not. So much of my mother’s identity was tied to being my mother that there wasn’t much room for me to see her as a person separately from that. The older I got, the more her time was spent being dedicated to being my mom. She was the PTA president through elementary and high school, she volunteered for all of my extracurriculars like school plays and dance in middle school. We spent so much time around each other or in each other’s orbits, of course I felt that she wasn’t her own person. How could I feel otherwise?

That’s why it has been so important for me to maintain some semblance of autonomy since becoming a mom. It hasn’t been easy, but my son knows there are times that my world doesn’t revolve around him. If I’m being quite honest, it doesn’t happen as much as I’d like it to, but I’ve also found ways to make it work. Sometimes I make plans during the day while he’s at school or now I will go out with friends and leave him at home with Beth.

For the first six and a half years of his life, we were an inseparable team. He was the Robin to my Batman. Even then, I tried to make sure that he knew I had a life outside of him. While he informed every decision I made, he wasn’t the be all and end all of my world. Of course, his existence impacts every facet of my life — that’s how a good parent parents. For crying out loud, my work revolved around him for literal years. I don’t make decisions without thinking about him, but I also put my needs above his sometimes. 

It’s so easy to get lost in motherhood. When they’re little, your kid demands so much of your time, and for good reason. They’re helpless and need you to teach them by example. During his first few years when I was deep in the throes of depression, it was easy to put my whole self into him. If I’m being 100% honest, he was the only thing I lived for. I didn’t see much value in my life other than to be his mom. He doesn’t know that of course, but it’s not a fair thing to put on a young kid who didn’t ask for that kind of responsibility. As he got bigger and I started to come out of the fog, I found small ways to get back to myself. Reading books, spending time with friends (even with him in tow) and even writing were the ways I got back to myself. 

Some days it felt like I was clawing my way through a thicket of thorns, but I reminded myself that it was important for both of us that I do the work. He needed a positive example of not just a mother, but a mother who is a whole person. The version of me that I was when he was a toddler wasn’t going to work forever. There was going to be a point in time where he was going to respect me less, or worse, pity me because I needed him more than he needed me. (This fear definitely comes from my own feelings) Plus, if it was going to be just the two of us, I needed that strength for when things got really hard. 

Identity and motherhood are such an interesting intersection. Forging your own identity feels like an active practice that you get good at over time. Motherhood is too in a way, but it feels like the total other side of the same coin. For me to be the best version of J’s mom that I can be, I have to be a pretty solid version of Sa’iyda too. Both things are a constant lesson in vulnerability and sometimes can bring you to the brink of freefalling. But you’ll know when it’s time to go over the edge or when it’s time to fight like hell to get back to yourself. You won’t always learn that lesson the easy way, but every time, you will come out covered in dust with a little more clarity. 

There are so many parts of my life that became clearer to me once I became a mom. I was forced to look in the mirror and take stock in my life multiple times. It was never easy, but I knew that every step forward was going to not only make me a better person or better mom, it was going to show my son that you are never done evolving, even when you’re an adult. Just because I’m a mom doesn’t mean I’ve stopped being a person — I’m a constant work in progress.

I’ve said this before, and I will say it every day until they put me in the ground: there is nothing I love more than being J’s mom. That’s why I don’t think twice when that’s how people refer to me. From the moment they placed him on my chest, I knew that he was the best thing I would ever create. I’m proud that my identity is intrinsically tied to his and will always be. He’s my favorite person in the whole world, even when I want to punt him into the sun. No matter what, I hope he knows that I will never accomplish anything as cool as making him. I also hope that he knows that the person I’ve become is because I get the immense privilege of being his mom and that he influences me in all the ways. 

Motherhood is a wild ride y’all.