I’m Not Her and I Don’t Know If I Ever Will Be

When I held my great-nephew for the first time, it was like time paused for a moment. This tiny, new life, so full of possibility, nestled in my arms, and I felt love… an unshakable, overwhelming kind of love. I felt joy for my niece, for my family, for this incredible new chapter that was beginning.

But at the same time, there was something else lingering beneath the surface, something quieter, harder to name. It was like looking at a kaleidoscope of feelings: joy, awe, a touch of sadness, and maybe even a little fear.

I’m 38, inching closer to 40, and moments like this remind me of the questions that sometimes linger in the background. Questions about what I want my life to look like, about the choices I’ve made, and the ones I haven’t yet. Being there, watching my niece step into her new role as a mother, made me reflect on myself and my own life.

I thought about the beauty of raising a child, the deep love and connection it brings, but also the sacrifices. I thought about the freedom I currently enjoy and the ability to decide on a whim to take a nap, to sit in silence, to indulge in the kind of self-care that comes without asking for permission.

And as much as I love my nephew, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss. Not for him, but for the idea of a version of me who could so easily step into that life. I’m not her. I don’t know if I ever will be.

At this stage in my life, I’ve come to value my independence, to savor moments of solitude and the spontaneity of a child-free existence. Holding him in my arms made me acutely aware of how much changes when you have a baby. It’s not just the late nights or the endless laundry; it’s the shift in your very identity. It’s the part of you that gets restructured to make room for this new, beautiful, demanding life.

I found myself wondering: Would I even be good at that kind of change? Would I ever feel ready?

But I also realized something: I don’t have to answer those questions right now. Watching my niece, I saw her joy and her exhaustion, her love and her worry, all in one glance. She’s figuring it out, step by step. And maybe, if that’s ever my journey, I’ll figure it out, too. But for now, I can love my nephew fiercely and let myself be honest about the fact that I’m not ready for that kind of life and that’s okay.

This week has been full of life, literally. My great-nephew arrived, and with him came an ocean of emotions I didn’t expect. It’s beautiful, it’s complicated, and it’s mine to process.

Sometimes, life is about holding two truths at once: joy and uncertainty, love and fear, celebration and hesitation. And in that space between, I think there’s a kind of grace, a permission to just be.