In a world of neatly organized paperwork, a stack of forms sits on my kitchen counter, color-coded and waiting for my attention. With just a couple of weeks to submit them, I am quite sure that it won’t take more than a day for me to tackle them. My youngest child is about to enter kindergarten—the last of our four boys—and this momentous milestone has been a source of anxiety for me. The thought of no more babies at home and each of my children embarking on their own journeys has taken some getting used to. Yet, as I sit here preparing to fill out these forms, I can’t help but envision the endless opportunities that lie ahead.
I know I’m not alone in recognizing that a new phase is unfolding for me and my family. Friends, family, and even casual acquaintances have asked, “What will you do with your newfound time?” My response often comes hesitantly, as I scramble for an answer. “I’ll have more time to volunteer at school” or “Maybe I’ll get my teaching credential and work as a substitute.” I murmur these responses while trying to convince myself that I will figure out how to fill my days.
The knowing nods from those around me suggest that this is the expected path for mothers once their children are in school: volunteering, organizing class parties, and participating in school activities. While I acknowledge the value of such commitments, I have no intention of diving into them frequently. Sure, I plan to contribute to the school community—perhaps twice a month—yet my aspirations extend beyond that. My vision involves a quaint coffee shop nearby where I can explore my dreams, but I hesitate to admit this to those curious about my future plans.
Part of my reluctance stems from a fear of failure. The thought of pursuing a writing career, only to have it falter in front of the PTA and my family, is daunting. However, I suspect there’s more at play. My responses seem to reflect an underlying expectation that having devoted a decade to raising my children obligates me to continue making sacrifices. Society often implies that once women become mothers, they should channel their energies into motherhood, leaving little room for personal ambitions.
Over the past ten years, I’ve navigated the challenges of motherhood, from pregnancy and nursing to managing the complexities of raising children with diverse needs. While it has been a privilege, it has also been one of the most demanding periods of my life. I’ve managed to find pockets of time for writing, but my original ambition was to write full-time. With all my kids now in school, I finally have the opportunity to chase that dream, and I intend to seize it.
I deeply respect those who find fulfillment in supporting our schools, and I’m in awe of their generosity in enhancing my children’s educational experiences. Their contributions are vital and commendable. However, I believe it’s crucial to reject the notion that motherhood should inherently lead to self-sacrifice. This perspective perpetuates a damaging narrative that suggests women can only pursue their ambitions until they have children.
I want to tell my sons a different story—one that embraces ambition and dreams. It’s time to show them that women can be both nurturing and driven. Yes, women can aspire to achieve great things. Yes, women can pursue their passions. Watch and see.
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In summary, as I navigate the transition into this new chapter of motherhood, I am determined to pursue my dreams while still being present for my children. The journey may be challenging, but it’s time to redefine what fulfillment looks like for me.
Keyphrase: Finding fulfillment as a mother
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