People tell you that “it goes so fast” when you have kids. That’s always the first thing they say when they find out you’re pregnant. “Cherish these moments because it goes so fast.” I have always been aware of the fact that life moves quickly, long before I had a child. As a kid, I remember hanging out with my family at a park or ball game and trying to remember every detail because I knew it wouldn’t be like this for long. I stayed up too late building legos with my brother because I knew he wouldn’t always think I was cooler than his friends. As I built relationships with friends, I did the same thing when we skipped school or went shopping or laughed so hard we cried. I treasured every year of college because I knew it was the most freedom I would ever have. I started dating my husband and I seem to have accumulated so many photos in my mind of how he looks in different lights. Backlit by the light pouring out of the coffee shop windows, a streetlight shining down and making his brown hair look blue, sunlight flashing across his face as I glanced over from the passenger seat.

All of these moments went by too quickly, but the moment time stopped was the night my son was born. He was born at 10:31pm and I was exhausted, but every minute of that night was at least an hour long. There was a terrible storm with bright lightning, pouring rain and loud claps of thunder right outside of our window. My husband held him close to his chest, swaddled in a blanket and a blue and pink hat. I remember this child looking at me, helpless and scared, with wide, gray-blue eyes in the dimly lit hospital room. For the next six months, life was slow. Those first 6 weeks were the longest I have ever experienced. Recovering from a C-section while sleep deprived and learning to breastfeed and parent amongst a steady stream of visitors made the days seem to stretch on like weeks.

The days after returning to work, longing for the moment when I could hold my child again while pumping in a chilly supply closet, felt like an eternity. Worrying over every cough and sneeze, milestones not yet reached, percentiles, vaccines, milk supply, formula supplementing, healing, losing weight, and new gray hairs consumed my thoughts.

These are moments I don’t want to cherish, or even remember. They are moments that make me want to put off trying for another baby. Thinking about trying to go through all of that again with a TODDLER?! HAHAHHAHA, just send me to the funny farm now. Anyone with 2 or more kids less than 5 years apart has suddenly become a saint in my eyes. Whenever I meet someone with a 6 month old, I want to say, “You made it! It’s okay. It gets better now.” Instead of encouraging them to “savor it” and “hold on,” I listen patiently, look them in the eyes and tell them, “it won’t last forever.”

I’ve been acting for 18 years now and theatre has been submersed into my soul and tightly woven into the threads of the fabric that makes up my life. I didn’t realize how complicated this relationship had become until recently. I performed in Almost, Maine when I was pregnant, then took a two year break from the stage. Working full-time meant I only had such a small amount of time with my son anyway, I couldn’t bear to give up any more of him. It felt selfish.

Then, one of my oldest friends, who has been on this theatre journey with me the whole time, had an actress drop out of a show he was directing. He turned to me with an email that started out, “I know you don’t act any more but…” I was shocked. When did this happen? OF COURSE I STILL ACT…it just hasn’t been on a stage for a few weeks…months…wait, years? Years. Where did I go? I talked to my husband, who was surprised that it had taken me this long. He was more than supportive and told me it was something I needed to do.

After a few rehearsals, I felt less stressed, less worried, less angry, less depressed and more…me. Funny to discover that I need to pretend to be another person in order to find myself. I went out with the cast for a drink one night after rehearsal and had FUN. I think I’ve been telling myself that the only time I’m allowed to have fun is with my child. That just can’t be true, your entire world can’t revolve around this tiny little being 24/7 without any breaks.

I’m not saying I need to go out every night, but I didn’t know how important it was to have my own life and continue to do the things that I love. I thought that because I loved my son, he would just become my new hobby and that’s really a lot of pressure for a kid.

I had an amazing childhood and it wasn’t because my parents hovered around monitoring everything that I did. They were on a bowling league, went out with friends, worked full-time and somehow, we still have beautiful memories and are all extremely close. I don’t know how I didn’t realize this sooner. Having a child doesn’t mean giving up everything else, it just means rebalancing the spinning plates on the pole. Maybe they’ll crash at some point, but it doesn’t mean I can’t start over, I’m pretty sure they’re Corelle.