Who am I?

The response, “ I think she is having an identity crisis,” is fairly familiar. I have often brought myself to wondering who I am, what do I want, what is my purpose. I have considered myself as a photographer, outdoorsy, a handy-woman, woodworker, supervisor, and nurse. Strangely enough I have fantasied being a singer, screen writer/filmaker, Olympian, world traveling photojournalist, politician, and humanitarian. I have been described as a free-spirit, stubborn, walking to a different beat, whimsical, odd. How many times have I cried out to God demanding my purpose be revealed so I can feel important?

Then I latched sight on my daughter covered in blood looking fatigued and I was completely transformed and smitten. The more time I spend in my daughter’s company the clearer is the message. I am a mother. I am my child’s guide. I am once more in love. I have purpose.

My mother once told me she lived vicariously through me. As a recent college graduate the statement sounded pathetic thinking she had to live through me to make-up for her own shortcomings. Because my daughter is only one it may be different for me, but I feel the same way now. I get to experience life, first things, all over again through the eyes of my child. Watching her close her eyes as she enjoys the winds blowing her face. Trying to process the trumpets of crickets and frogs. Being wheeled through the forest spotting each passing tree. The enjoyment she gains as I play peek-a-boo showing all my teeth as I smile then receiving a giggled grin in return.

I feel like the luckiest woman and blessed that my husband can support us while allowing me to stay home. Sometimes I am asked, “But do you really feel fulfilled?” It seems the mentality is I am not complete unless I am receiving a paycheck to prove my worth. I absolutely feel fulfilled. I get to watch my daughter’s every accomplishment and frustration. I get to praise her or hold her close. She will probably take me for granted because I am always there, but I will always be there for her.

Besides, I am not just a stay-at-home mom. I have gained new roles and identities. Some are better than others. Janitor, housekeeper, farmer. I am learning teacher, guide, baker. I am taking on the role of defender. Defender of truth as well as my daughter's defender. I hope to challenge her to find the truth and and walk an exceptional life. I even get to practice my other skills as a nurse, photographer, and supervisor. And my fantasies of being a singer, filmmaker, and humanitarian are being practiced as well.

Its possible I will have a mid-crisis or be an empty-nester, but I have a feeling my husband will always have chores keeping me busy. I can say that so far producing my daughter is my greatest achievement and as she develops and matures I can foresee it only getting better. For one role I never envisioned myself playing is cheerlead, but I plan on being her biggest fan.

The way to Knob Creek

Lebanon Junction luncheon

New Haven's Train

I wish my torso was longer

Today I successfully cut my toenails with a great deal of discomfort. I am about six months pregnant. I don't think I look that extended in the nude. Now if I don't wear the right clothes I definitely look frumpy. Supposedly I have a uterus the size of a soccer ball, which I suggest you try bending over with a large mass tucked under your abdominal muscles. However, there are alterations that can be made to avoid grunting in a fashion that sounds like I am out of shape. So that your legs are not pressing into you abdomen at a 90 degree bend spread the legs apart allowing the stomach to essentially slide between the legs at the pivot. This is very useful and it also works out the quads. What I have still not managed is the perfect reclining position. I have varicose veins that are now developing a bulge. I am reluctantly wearing my anti-embolism stockings, but I am also suppose to be elevating my legs. Well, this is where I am placed in a compromised position again. Elevating my legs while sitting up to read or write means legs are pressing into my baby and I feel out of breath.

Today I decided I needed to accomplish cutting my toenails because I did not want my nails to rip through my beloved stockings. This proved very difficult. I tried to modify my technique of bending over and sitting indian style while slightly leaning back to use the lamp light. Only problem is this position set me up perfectly for clipping my large toe, but placed me farther from my smaller toes. Just when I sucked it up to pursue my last pinky toe my 50 pound dog decided it was time to cuddle on my stomach, which is a discussion for a whole other subject: My dogs do not sense I am pregnant and like the extra cushion to rest on. Also, my largest dog thinks she is a lap dog. I did complete my nail clipping, but I think this will be my last attempt while pregnant. My husband has offered to shave my legs. I think I will hire him for toenails as well. I think I trust him.