Today, as I strolled through Times Square, a wave of nostalgia struck me like a bullet to the heart. Blood—no, memories—splattered across 46th Street, and in that moment, my pulse quickened, only returning to normal when my toddler’s small hand clasped mine tightly.
We were on our way to the carousel at Bryant Park on a sweltering summer morning. Fresh from the subway, beads of sweat dripped down my face at 11 a.m.—a typical New York summer scene—when I was ambushed by a flood of memories.
The trigger? The Actors’ Equity building at 165 West 46th Street, a place that once felt like my second home. Equity, the union for theatre actors, was where I spent countless hours auditioning in cramped rooms, reinforcing my identity as an actress during my pre-motherhood days. As memories of that life rushed back, I found myself caught in a whirlwind of nostalgia, confusion, and hope, causing me to sweat even more.
At 35, I was thrilled to land a role in a new play. A few weeks later, however, bedtime brought on sickness instead of excitement. A pregnancy test confirmed what my husband and I had longed for—a baby was on the way, due in November, if all went as planned.
During a meeting with the play’s director at a diner, I announced my pregnancy while balancing a soggy matzo ball on my spoon. I was set to portray a cancer patient, and the show was set to premiere just three weeks before my due date. Just like that, my path as a mother became clear.
In my first trimester, I attempted a few auditions, but the nausea and breathlessness made it difficult to perform at my best. I eventually surrendered to the reality of my new role. By 20 weeks, strangers were smiling knowingly and saying, “Any day now?”
When a casting director called about an audition for my dream show, I was already 36 weeks along and feeling enormous. I cried as I explained my situation. “But that’s wonderful news! Congratulations! We won’t forget you, don’t worry. Roles come along all the time, but babies don’t!” Her words, while meant to comfort, felt hollow.
I continued to cry, realizing that being a mother had forced me to set aside so many dreams—auditions, roles, and even my talent agency. Pregnancy had turned me into a liability.
With my career on hold, I embraced the labor of motherhood. My child is nearly 4 now, and I chose—happily—to stay at home during her formative years. If any child is worth every moment, it’s her. Parenting has been a paradox of rapid growth and painfully slow days. Time bends in ways that only other parents understand.
I’ve never worked harder or felt less worthy while navigating the early years of parenthood. Yet, I’ve also learned to appreciate these limits and how far I feel from the “real world.” I attempt to stay updated on politics, read a few articles, watch shows like Sherlock, and I’ve fought to keep reading despite the common belief that parenting extinguishes that passion.
Though I haven’t completely abandoned my career—I still participate in local readings, short films, and commercials—I’m not ready to take on projects that require long absences from home. I have no regrets, as I’ve been fortunate to witness my daughter’s growth firsthand, a luxury many parents would cherish. If only I could have another decade between my 30s and 40s.
Crossing 46th Street, I caught a glimpse of the shiny Equity lobby as my daughter pulled me toward the carousel’s joyful music. With preschool on the horizon, I pondered my own return to the stage. Would I gather my supplies, memorize lines, and prepare to re-enter that world? How would I address prospective agents? Would I mention my daughter?
Motherhood has taught me commitment and that new roles can be embraced at any time. Even when unprepared, necessity often leads us to readiness.
I will gather my supplies. I will stand at the ballet barre three times a week to prepare for the stage. Time may feel like it has taken me further from the acting world, but I realize I’ve been walking in a circle—my own version of Time’s Square. What’s five years, anyway? Those years can’t extinguish a dream, especially one enriched by such experience.
Memory serves me well.
I’ll see you soon, Equity audition rooms. I’ll see you soon, casting directors. I’ll see you soon, grown-up world.
“I’ll be back,” I assured Times Square. “I promise.”
With that, I pulled the bullet of nostalgia from my heart and sealed the wound.
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Summary:
In this reflective piece, Emily Carter explores the complexities of motherhood and its impact on her acting career. After becoming pregnant at 35, she grapples with nostalgia for her past life while embracing the joys and challenges of parenting her now-nearly 4-year-old daughter. As she navigates the transition back into the world of acting, she finds hope and determination in the commitment motherhood has instilled in her.
Keyphrase: motherhood and acting journey
Tags: “home insemination kit”, “home insemination syringe”, “self insemination”