The Whitney That Never Was

It is common knowledge that a baby (like the iPad) changes everything. But a month into this lifelong journey called motherhood, I am just starting to realize what everything means. It means there is a version of me somewhere out there that maybe never was and certainly never will be again. This hypothetical Whitney started disappearing the moment I met Ben. Marrying at 20 meant I would never have the opportunity (or curse) to look for potential mates at bars and go out clubbing with my friends. Strangely enough, I was okay with that. Ben and I still had our date nights. We could go out late and sleep in the next day. I could even stay out late without him and have almost the same experience I would have if I weren't married. Life was good.
But all that was about to change. Nine and a half months ago, a little pink line told me life would never be the same. But knowledge and experience are two radically different things. Last night, we got home from a long day out in DC and a large dinner and all I wanted to do was go right to bed. I never considered going to bed a luxury until now. Now, before hitting the hay, I feed and change Mina and put her to bed first (or ask really nicely if Ben will put her to bed). I go to bed knowing I will be up in a few hours to feed her and I could be woken up anytime before then.
Making a quick trip to the store with just a wallet and keys is no longer an option. Going anywhere requires packing an overnight bag that pushes the limits of airplane carry-on restrictions. I could always leave Mina with Ben and go out by myself, but I have about two hours before my body reminds me I need to feed my baby. It is even less time before I realize that terrible sour smell is coming from the spit-up on my right shoulder. It seems there really is no escaping the fact that I am a mother.
So goodbye youthful Whitney who stayed out late and went to bed as soon as she arrived home. Adieu city traveler who ran down metro escalators stroller-less to catch a train. Farewell one-item shopper who went to the store mid-recipe to get more eggs. Au Revoir. I'm sorry I never appreciated you, but I'm not sorry I moved on. One look at my beautiful baby reminds me that this "Whitney that never was" was never meant to be. I am a mom. The "Whitney that is" is exactly what I want, interrupted sleep and all.