By: Sarah Thompson
Updated: Feb. 21, 2023
Originally Published: Feb. 21, 2023
Recently, I found myself at a reunion filled with laughter, nostalgia, and a bit too much punch, as I celebrated a significant milestone with friends from my university days. This gathering, which occurs every five years, brought together over a hundred of my closest friends to reminisce about our beloved a cappella group—an experience that still shapes my identity.
From the age of four until I turned twenty-two, singing was my life. I intentionally chose a university where the music scene rivaled the Greek life, and my friendships formed during those years have remained some of the strongest relationships I possess. Traveling the country crammed into a 15-passenger van with 17 friends solidified those bonds in ways that are hard to explain.
During that magical weekend, we easily slipped back into our old rhythms, despite having not seen each other for 15 years, long before any of us took on the roles of parents or entered the workforce. We shared stories, good food, and, of course, sang until our hearts were content. The reunion culminated in a vibrant concert, after which we all parted ways, returning to our daily responsibilities.
I wish I could say that my return home was invigorating, preparing me to face the challenges of parenting head-on—like searching for my son’s missing Lego figure named “Morton.” Instead, I was met with a wave of sadness. For those fleeting days, I had reconnected with a vibrant piece of myself that seemed to fade since becoming a mother. Now, I’m just “Mom,” and the only songs echoing in my life are lullabies and shower tunes. It’s not just the singing I miss, but the intense friendships, deep conversations, and spontaneous laughter that rarely find their way into my current routine, especially during kindergarten drop-offs.
If I were to put on my psychologist hat, I’d advise myself to reignite that part of me. “Just start singing again!” I would say. However, in this stage of my life, it feels impractical. I can’t simply drop everything for a last-minute gig, and late-night laughter with friends leaves me exhausted for the early morning wake-up calls from my kids, who also have a penchant for singing at dawn. While community theater is a dream, rehearsals are often inconveniently timed, leaving little room for my family.
I know I’m not alone in this journey of self-loss among parents. We all face the reality of sacrificing pieces of our former selves when we dive into parenthood. It’s not just time that limits us; it’s the energy that seems to dissipate as well. For now, singing cannot take precedence in my life, and it’s frustrating to set aside something I hold dear. Yet, I understand that it is possible to cherish parenting while mourning the aspects of life that have changed. I feel deeply saddened by my lack of singing, but equally grateful for my two beautiful children who greet me with their own melodies every morning.
Perhaps in five years, when my kids are older, I can explore community theater or even start a band with a neighbor. Who knows, maybe I can even persuade some fellow moms to join me in forming an a cappella group. The “Mom-tones” has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? Northern New Jersey, prepare yourselves!
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In summary, reconnecting with lost parts of ourselves is a complex journey for parents. While we cherish our roles, the longing for our former identities can leave us feeling nostalgic. Yet, with time and perhaps a little creativity, we may find the opportunity to blend our old passions with the joys of parenthood.
Keyphrase: reclaiming identity after motherhood
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