In baby dance class today, I was lamenting the fact that Eva is such a mommy’s girl and doesn’t like to be held by anyone but me. The teacher said relish it, because soon enough she won’t want you to hold her had when you cross the street (age 8 apparently) and she’ll tell you to drop her off a couple blocks from school so as not to be seen anywhere near you (age 9?). Right now I can’t even fathom this. In the same way that it is impossible to describe what it is like to be a parent to anyone who is not one, it is impossible for me to imagine a time when Eva and I aren’t completely devoted to one another.

To be a mother is to be caught in some in between land. You are not and never will be your old self. For me, that is the woman who said “No problem!” to casting directors who asked me to be a reader at the last minute, or “Absolutely, I’m available!” to my agent who called at 6:00 p.m. with a Law & Order audition for the next day at noon, or who was always the first to respond to the “First one who responds get this free ticket to a Broadway show tonight” e-mail or who, every fall, stood in line for hours to see SAG screenings followed by Q&A’s with famous people. I yearned for that person when Eva was first born, but slowly I have stood on the dock and wave goodbye to her and she takes her long boat ride home. Eva and I wave goodbye to her, I should say.

I’ve had a handful of auditions in the last 7 months since Eva was born. I’ve only been called back for one. I’m not my old self. Not that I was ever a great auditioner, but at least some of the time, I could get out of my own head and be free and confident. Now, when I go into the room and the direction is “Just be yourself”, I am not really sure who that is. I just want to scream, “I am MOM now. EVERYTHING is different.”

To be a mother means that your brain is perpetually split in two. I think not only for myself, but for Eva too. And if I’m not too tired, I’ll occasionally remember my husband. That’s why moms forget words. Lack of sleep is only a part of it. My brain is physically part of me, but it is not my own. My body isn’t either. When I’ve gone into auditions and I watch my headshot being examined, again I want to yell,” That was BEFORE. This is me NOW. My body is completely different! Cut me some slack!” No one wants to hear that. You are supposed to be the answer to their problems. You are not supposed to complicate their lives with your complicated life.

I recently waited for over an hour at an audition and got ravenously hungry because I’m breastfeeding. I went through all my snacks and my blood sugar got so low that when I was finally called into the room, of the two lines I had to say, I messed up one of them and said the other to the wrong person. Another time I had a callback out at the Brooklyn Navy Yards, so it took me a while to get out there, then I had to wait for an hour and a half to go in, and all I could think about were my boobs which felt like they were going to explode I had been away from Eva for so long. Another time, I left Eva with a sitter to go to an audition and she was so upset at my going that she was screaming as I walked out the door. As I waited outside the room, I had to keep repeating to myself “Don’t text the sitter. Focus on the sides. Don’t text the sitter. She’ll be fine.”

My lovely agent said to me a while back that motherhood will bring a deeper quality to my acting. I hope she’s right. I certainly can cry more easily now than ever before. But I wonder if my brain will ever be able to be fully on my acting again. Perhaps in the same way that I have waved goodbye to my old spontaneous self, I will wave hello to an actress that finds greater depth in ever word she has to say. But will my brain allow me to go?

I am pulled to Eva every day. A game of peek-a-boo I initiate elicits barrels of laughter from her tiny body. I dance with her in our apartment and she cries when I put her down. She holds her arms out to me and babbles “mamamabamamama” and I babble back and we have a conversation intelligible only to us. Sometimes I long to escape this; to not be the one she relies on wholly and completely. But on the rare occasion we are apart, I feel naked and I miss her desperately.

So when the direction is “just be yourself”, how exactly should I interpret that? I am myself, but not myself. I am myself, but I am her too. And she is me. I might have just blown that audition, but I can make my daughter laugh! She reaches out to be held by me and in this moment I am the only one on the planet who can calm her. I can’t imagine the day that will end. When I go to take her hand and she recoils in disgust, she’ll snap my heart in two. I might not be a very good actress right now, but I know that I am a good mother.

An actor friend called me the other night very excited and said, “Hey, I have the greatest surprise for you!  You and I are going to be VIP guests at our friend’s live taping of his TV show. We get there at 5:45 on Friday and it gets out around 10. So just get a sitter and come with me. It’s going to be great!”

 I went into my agent’s office the other day and she said, “Oh, you’ve got to see the Christopher Durang play at the Public. My partner can get you staff rate tickets!” I used to see about a play a week, but now the idea seems impossible. In Eva’s three months on this earth, I have been away from her for about 3 hours total.

That is the toughest adjustment for me. I am pretty much used to the lack of sleep and the crying, but in my former life, B.E. (Before Eva), I saw plays and movies all the time, often last minute when friends would e-mail and say, “I’ve got a free ticket. The first person to respond gets it!” and I would.  Or I’d use my out-of-date student ID and stand in line for rush tickets. Friends still send me invitations for things all the time, free movie or play tickets, plays or readings they are in, etc. They don’t know how it tortures me. I love to always be doing things, out and about. It feeds me creatively. And now I have to slow down and just be with my daughter. The quiet can be deafening.

The other day we were in a cab and passed a line outside the Film Forum and I swear I saw my life flash before my eyes. My husband would say I’m being hyperbolic, but it is a kind of death. The old me is dead. The new me will forever be responsible for another human being and anyone who doesn’t have a child cannot understand the immensity of that. The loss and the gift at once. True ambivalence. It’s not like I’ll never see a play or movie again, but the freedom to just go is gone. It has been replaced with a beautiful, unique, loveable, lovely little dictator.

I did see a play two weeks ago. My friend’s husband was in  “Around the World in 80 Days” at the Westport Country Playhouse. We went up for a matinee and my friend watched Eva while Sloan and I saw the show. I nursed Eva right before we went in. I ran out at intermission and nursed her again, during the second act I checked my watch at least 5 times and when the play was over, I ran out because I missed her so much I couldn’t stand to be away from her any longer.  Nothing will ever be the same. 

Well, it’s an ongoing discussion I have with myself. I have also talked to some really sweet fellow actress/moms who are making it work.  Which has opened my mind a bit. Musical theater actresses are all right!!!  I was close-minded on the subject before, but the ones I have spoken to could not have been sweeter.  I thank them.  They gave me hope.  But they also said that it’s OK to just BE with my baby.  To watch her grow and become who she’s going to be. To care for her and bond with her.  And to not feel like I have to return to work immediately.  I know they are right, but when you have been GOING GOING GOING for ten years, it’s close to impossible to slow down.  Today’s lesson: slow down.  I’m going to go make my daughter smile. She’s going to do the same for me, I know it.

After the play, we stayed at the theater and were joined by our friend and “As Far As We Know” director, Laurie Sales. AFAWK is an original play that I have been involved with for over three years. Various incarnations have been workshopped through the Drama League and performed in the 2007 Fringe and Fringe Encores. This latest version is very different and seems to be headed in a really great direction, if not almost finished as a result Laurie’s hard work. The name has been changed as well to “Missing: Captured.” I have helped develop the character Captain Evans since the start and read that part again on Sunday with Kelly and several other  actors Kelly and Laurie know. It was great to do a little bit of acting again. It’s been a few months! My husband took care of Eva who made it to page 95 before she needed to be fed. Thanks, Eva, for letting mom do her thing! I’m not sure what is next for the play, but I’ll write more when I know.