At 30 years old, there was a wrinkle in time and I fell in deep.

Everything changed.

My life truly began.

I had had a full and interesting life up until that point. I’d traveled to numerous continents. I’d followed my passions and created a successful career for myself. I was married to a wonderful man. I was filling my time effectively—so it would seem.

From the moment my first child (my “little little”) was born, that I was done and I severed ties with the previous version of myself.

With the cutting of the umbilical cord, I was born anew. She arrived in the world, but it was the day I was born.

My Birth Day.

The old version of me was now outdated; I would never be the same again.

I had been the woman who had gotten by, by living my emotional life on the periphery—engaging superficially with others. The one who had merely flirted with “real life” meaning and purpose.

I had been the woman who did what she wanted when she wanted—I could sleep in for hours every weekend if that’s what I wanted to do.

Originally posted and published on Elephant Journal. Read more —> https://www.elephantjournal.com/2015/03/the-birth-of-a-mother/