parenting

For Adalyn, Almost Three

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Adalyn, my wildflower bright,
You chase the wind, you catch the light.
With dino roars and spinning wheels,
You turn the world with how you feel.

Your smile is a spark, it’s sunbeams bursting,
It finds my heart and it quenches the thirsting.
You dance like storms and giggle like rain,
Then you hold me close through joy or through pain.

You roar like a T-Rex in the hall,
Then twirl and tumble, with your feet so small.
You lead with love, you leap with grace,
You are such a whirlwind in a tiny space.

Feral, free, and full of fire,
You climb, you jump, and you never tire.
But in your arms, the world is still,
It’s a gentle hug, such a quiet thrill.

You rally crowds for “dance mode” fun,
The party starts with just one run.
And in our group hug, squeezed in tight,
You shine with all your little might.

You’re kind, you’re strong, you’re truly you,
And every day, you’re something new.
I watch, in awe, as time moves on.
My sweet baby girl, my rising dawn.

So when the days feel far too fast,
I’ll hold these moments, make them last.
For in your eyes, I clearly see
The best the world could ever be.

Keep shining bright, my beautiful little firecracker.
I love you. Mean it. Always.
Momma 💕❤️

Who is Meighan? She’s just Momma now.

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The Lost Identity of Motherhood—and the Journey to Find Myself Again

I used to wonder what happened to moms after they had children. Where did they go? It was almost symbolic: they seemed to slowly disappear from their own photos, replaced by baby pictures, and for some reason, that used to straight piss me off. I’d find myself wondering: How could someone get so completely lost in motherhood?

Now, I get it. I really do.

There is a loss of identity when you become a mom. At least, that’s been my experience. You become consumed by things you never thought you’d care so much about—milk intake, nap timings, diaper changes, meal plans, teething remedies. The list goes on and on. And somewhere along the way, you forget yourself a bit. You forget how to talk about anything other than the endless cycle of mothering. The things that used to bring you joy—your hobbies, your passions, your interests—fall to the wayside. Slowly, your world becomes smaller, and your conversation more limited. Let’s be honest, it can get a little… dull.

But then, you find other moms. Women who, before motherhood, you might not have connected with. But now, you’re all in the same boat—rattling around in this lost property box together. And in some way, it’s comforting. You’re not alone in this strange, beautiful chaos.

I know deep down that I’ve gone AWOL since becoming a mom. I’ve almost forgotten that there’s a world out there, separate from motherhood, that I can still be a part of.

So, I’m slowly reclaiming my “me-ness” again. It’s a work in progress, but it’s happening. And when I do, I notice something beautiful: Ady enjoys it more, too. It feels more authentic. Now, instead of just playing “Ms. Moni” on repeat, we have little dance parties to the music I love. I’ve even started taking the time to look half-human again in the mornings—putting my old face back on. These small changes, as trivial as they may seem, are helping me reconnect with myself, and I’m pretty sure they’re good for all of us.

Motherhood is a balancing act. You’re helping this tiny human develop their identity, but it’s just as important not to forget your own. It’s okay to be both: a mom and a person, with interests, dreams, and a self that existed long before motherhood.

And every little step I take to reclaim that feels like a victory. Here’s to becoming Meighan again, instead of just Momma.