The Overdue Life of Amy Byler

by Kelly Harms

I only know that in this month, when I have gotten time with friends, time for myself, positive attention from men, and yep, a couple of nice new bras, parts of me that were asleep for far too long are starting to wake up. I am seeing my children with a new, longer lens and seeing how grown up they are, how capable.

And you’re going to remember me and never, ever sell yourself down the river to be some kind of perfect mom. Not for a second. When you feel the urge, you’re going to put on the well-fitting bra I bought you fifteen years earlier and leave your kids in the care of a moderately competent person and go do something that is only for yourself, and if you don’t know what that should be, then you’re going to think about it until you do.

I get this now. I get now that you can love what you have, love your kids and your life and your friends, and still want more. I get that it’s ok to go out and get more—more love, more friendship, more fulfillment—and still be a wonderful mom.