A Rebirth
Written by Alecs Kakon
Photos by Jen Fellegi
Up until recently, I would say I functioned at what felt like a deficit. I strived to be independent, yet I was financially beholden to others; I craved autonomy, yet I lived in constant reaction to the rules set by authority; I yearned for that feeling of governance, yet overlooked that that sort of agency could come from within and could be self-directed. Something had locked me in this perpetual Peter-Pan state, even though, ironically, I wanted more than anything to grow up. I moved out early when I was around 18. I held jobs from the age of 15. I walked around like I owned the world probably since I was 2, yet, all of it was my way of reaching, not attaining a sense of self and place in the world. The thought pressing against my mind’s walls was that I was a kid, a daughter, and to a certain point, everything I believed in is in deference to those who have raised me. It is an impossible feeling to live with that, sort of exogenous omnipotence, because it locked me in relation to values that didn’t belong to me, beliefs I didn’t always align with, and a general way of being or living that didn’t resonate with the woman I was (or was trying to be).
Something shifted in a profound way the day I learned I was pregnant. Part of me attributes my coming into myself to that precise moment. As Iain Thomas poignantly remarked: “Everything has changed, yet I am more me than ever before.” I instantly changed inalterably in a way I had been chasing my whole life. All of a sudden, I called the shots (well, my husband and I, but for the purpose of this piece, I’ll restrict myself to a first-person account). I felt as though I had spent the first three decades of my life trying to fit my square piece into that proverbial round slot, and just like that, the round slot squared off and I slipped right in.
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about why becoming a mother snapped me into alignment. I think a lot of it comes from restrictions placed on me growing up. That definitely played a role. But more than that, I think societal conventions trickled in as well. This whole notion of hierarchy in the home is something that has recently been called into question with new-age parenting levelling the playing field and equalizing the voices within the family, but for me, growing up, kids deferred to their parents. Anything less was anarchy. I was labeled a rebel early on, but the epithet never felt true. I was not that rebellious, I was just different from my immediate surroundings (which, incidentally, was quite homogenous). I caused a ruckus, that’s for sure, but that’s only because I questioned everything. I was curious and wanted to forge my own path, my own belief system, but the things that felt true to me went directly against my family’s traditions. What does one do with that sort of information?
Now, as a mom of three young children, I find myself constantly educating myself so that I can be an infinite well of information for my children. I have my values, I teach them to my kids, but I do not impose them. Becoming a mother allowed me to know myself in a way that clicked everything into place – but, it has also presented many turbulent time warps.
It is challenging not to live vicariously through our children. I don’t just mean in the simple way of forcing them into a sport you love because you never had a chance to do it and now, through your kid, you’ll get to live that dream out. I mean it more in the tethered soul kind of way. A being rebounded in time, it was just this year that I celebrated my eldest daughter’s seventh birthday. An age that marks my initiation into sexual trauma. It seems nearly impossible, even with all the therapy, education, and healing I’ve done, not to see myself at that age, bouncing around innocently, yet being inducted into the life that would seize me for years to come. I find myself trying to perpetually balance my fears, because although they were based in reality for me, they do not belong to my daughter(s). It’s a hard balance to strike, as that danger is not an imminent threat, yet it feels almost impossible to not be teleported and, in a way, see myself through her, and witness what I lost at that tender age. Motherhood has given me a front-row seat to my childhood.
Although motherhood has felt like a passport to freedom in many ways, there is also the flip side of the flight that has bungeed me to my home in way that doesn’t always feel so unencumbered. My husband and I had a short-lived romance, as our lived pre-children was but a year long. Then, within the span of three years, we had three kids and 2 miscarriages. My body changed, my relationship with myself changed, my time was constrained, my sleep was negligible, my hormones were whack, and my life had basically been turned upside down. I was no longer me in any way that I could recognize. Yet, there I was, complaining about the things that some people pray for. I had lived 3 miracles, and all I wanted was to regain Alecs back. I wanted to be seen, but it almost felt like I wasn’t even there. Sex weaned, romantic date nights were non-existent, and the more we tried to connect, the bigger the space between us grew. It’s taken about 8ish years for the current to calm, and now, I think partially due to the pandemic, our relationship is reborn. Forced to sit in each other’s company, no escape, 24/7, has afforded me the comfort in knowing that people fall out of love. But, to allow your relationship to work, you must hold space for that loss so as to allow yourselves to fall in love again. We had tried to get back to what we had before children, but so much had changed. Rather than viewing our relationship as permanently loveless, we worked on it, and are actively working on it every day. We acknowledge that falling in and out of love is part of what makes a relationship move forward and evolve. Alicia Keys was certainly onto something there.
I was learning to navigate motherhood amidst a community that wouldn’t outwardly acknowledge how freaking hard it was. All of it. The loss of my old self, both physically and emotionally, oh wait, and professionally, was the hardest pill to swallow. I don’t know that it’s like this for every new parent, but for me, it didn’t come in waves, it was tidal all the time. I had left my job in publishing and became a stay-at-home mom with a freelance writing side hustle. There was (and still is) such stigma about stay-at-home moms versus working moms – such judgment and shame. So many opinions. But, all I knew for certain was that I couldn’t wait to get back to work, find something I loved again and dive right in. Writing has always been my doorway to self-exploration, therapy, and growth. My Profile Projects 2020 was very much a step in my journey toward finding myself. Through each interview, I observed how impactful our relationships with our parents are and how forming they are to every little piece of our characters. Our parents shape us, influence us, guide us, show us the world, reflect our realities, define our boundaries, and help us become who we are. In my tour of over 52 women, I can say that each person brought forth examples of how their relationships with their parents affected them in an overwhelmingly profound way. I always knew that must be true, but there is comfort in speaking to people from all walks of life only to find out, we are all connected in that way.
