We Existed Before Them and That's Okay.

A diary entry from our Editor.

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As my son approaches his first birthday, I am reminded that he has existed outside my body for just shy of a year. It's a strange reflection to have, given that becoming a mother is such an identity-defining moment. Not strange because it's uncommon - I imagine many mothers feel this way - but strange in its obscurity.

This feeling is obscure because just a year ago, he existed only in my belly and mind. Two years ago, he was merely a future thought. I had no idea who he would be, what he would look like, or that I would name him Ari. It's not easy to comprehend as someone who identifies so strongly with the label "Mother".

Who I am today is defined not entirely, but quite largely, by the fact that I have mothered. I have carried, given birth to, and raised a child. This is my experience of mothering, and this definition is certainly not universal. But this is my mothering.

I am someone who has dreamt of becoming a mother her entire life. From the moment I had the strength to hold a baby, I was carrying them around and offering my babysitting services. I was consumed by the idea of motherhood from a very young age, a thought many women today may be embarrassed to admit, but one I am proud of. Which means that, despite being a mother for less than a year, unless we include pregnancy, "Mother" has been my internal identity, my dream, for a lifetime.

Now, I bring this up because my entire life, I could not, and still struggle to, imagine my own mother before I was born. I am the youngest of four siblings, and the idea that they all existed before me feels somewhat unknown to me. Perhaps this sounds self-indulgent. Or perhaps, to others, it makes sense.

To Ari, especially in his current state, I have not existed before him. And to be honest, even to me, I struggle to acknowledge my existence prior to his birth.

Who was I before? A marketing head for a startup turned comms person. A bubbly, smiley, slightly overbearing but generally kind woman. Someone with a strong Christian upbringing. The youngest child of four, raised by a single mother. Grew up in a town outside of London. Loved horses. Loved dogs. Dreamt of being a vet until I was 16. A big reader. A lover of poetry. A wife. A friend. A daughter.

I'm thinking about this today because my husband is sick, and instead of being in the office, we're both working from home. Our son is at nursery. For some, this might sound ordinary. For us, this will be the longest period of time we have spent together - just the two of us, without friends, family, or our son - in nearly a year. Refreshing. A little strange. But also a reminder that we existed before him. That we have always existed before him.

A gentle reminder that we are not just Mother and Father. We are so much more than that. And we get to choose how we define ourselves, our relationship, and who we want to be. It's also a powerful reminder that I want my son to see me as more than his mother. I want him to see me in my entirety - who I was before and who I am today, as well as who I am becoming.

I am so interested in your thoughts and feelings about becoming a mother. If you have a story to share, please send to zoeemilybull@gmail.com.