…than resting your head on a pillow and drinking in the sleeping cherubic face with heavy eyes and hot breathe from gently parted cupid’s bow lips, just two inches from your face? Continue reading Is there anything lovelier?→
For the first couple of months after Pip was born, my body and mind were on a spiritual high. My cells and my consciousness still could not quite believe what an incredible experience giving birth had been and for a very long time afterwards my body screamed at me “again, again, go again”. Every ounce of me wanted to have another baby straight away.
Nine months of sleep deprivation* beat that out of me and by that stage, the idea of having two small babies completely dependent on me filled me with horror. What if they both didn’t sleep? What if they woke each other all the time? What if I’m awake and dead on my feet for the rest of my life? My heart would palpitate just thinking about it. But the longing for another child was still there, just whispering in the background for a while.
Pip will be 18 months soon and I find that whisper starting to get a bit louder again. I seem to be surrounded by expecting mothers and tiny newborns at the moment and I can feel the strength of the oxytocin just swirling around trying to draw me in. What a wonderful stage of life! When everyone around you is on that exciting and magical journey of creating the next generation.
But I find myself asking what exactly it is that I desire? Do I want to be pregnant again? Do I want to experience birthing a baby again? Do I want a nurseling? Do I want a small baby again? Do I want another child? Do I want a sibling for Pip?
I loved being pregnant I must say. Or maybe I eventually loved being pregnant. I found the first 12 weeks very difficult emotionally. Having waited so long to finally get pregnant, I was crippled with fear that I wouldn’t make it to the end of the first trimester. Even now, I find it hard to use the “m” word here when I’m writing as if I’m still holding on to some of that fear. Frankly, this is ridiculous because I was lucky enough to have a perfectly healthy pregnancy in the end when many don’t. Of course you can’t help what you feel, particularly when you’re stepping into the unknown and your body is changing and functioning on a completely new level.
I also had some pretty terrible morning sickness that I wished down on myself in those very early few weeks as a sign that I was definitely pregnant. Foolish me, it came in good time and stayed for longer than the books promised!
I would love to give birth again. Nothing prepared me for the life-changing, exhilarating intensity that was labouring and birthing my son. If I’m honest I think I could probably be pregnant and give birth far more times than the amount of children I’m prepared to raise. But you can’t have the first bit without the second bit…and there’s a world of difference between babies and children.
How many children do I want? Before, I firmly held the number four in my head, being one of four myself I suppose, and seemingly incapable of imagining life with less or more of us. My new philosophy – inspired by reality – is “one at a time” and we’ll see how it goes.
Yes, I want another child. At least two more, maybe (see above motto). I picture myself and my husband with our teenage children out for brunch in a local eatery somewhere chatting, laughing and solving the problems of the world (too Pollyanna?). At the very least I want to have a sibling for Pip. I fear for him as an only child smothered by the overwhelming and undivided love of his mama. I’ve also seen the burden of the only adult child when it comes to caring for ageing parents and I’d like to avoid that for him, if I can.
If, if. That’s the important word in all of this really. It was three years from when we decided to have a baby until we held one in our arms and we had to be helped along the way.
And one certainly doesn’t guarantee another but I am optimistic.
There’s plenty of time for dark thoughts when there’s definitely, absolutely no chance of another baby but even then, there’s no room for negativity. I’m already blessed with the most amazing, beautiful, loving, happy little boy and the memories of a great pregnancy and a magical birth. Everything else is gravy.
So it’s marrying the heart with the head. Who am I kidding? I’d love another baby, a child. My body has always known that, it’s just my mind that’s had to come around to the idea. I think it’s there now though.
*and the incredible power of Mother Nature. An exclusively breastfed baby who ate A LOT at regular intervals meant my cycle was definitely on hold so no extra babies for me, even if I wanted them!
I spent all of my teens and early twenties being horrified at the concept of motherhood. The idea of getting pregnant and having a child was alien to me. Alien enough, that when I was in college I always had enough money set aside to make a trip to England just in case such a scenario should arise. I know that’s probably upsetting to a lot of people but it’s the truth. Motherhood was so alien to me that I fleetingly contemplated the idea of getting my tubes tied while I was still sensible and clearheaded and not overrun with irrational hormones and the relentless quickening tick of my biological clock. Of course this was ridiculous youthful, inexperienced idiocy at its best but it provides a good example of where my thinking was.
At some stage my opinion changed where having a baby didn’t seem so unreasonable but that was for other people and I lived my life is a child free zone, interested solely in reaping life’s benefits for myself, living one hedonistic, free-spirited day to the next, not particularly interested in the future outside of trying to climb up the career ladder. (Incidentally, I’ve misplaced my ladder. Have you seen it?).
Then one day I wanted a baby, and boy did I really want one. I couldn’t and can’t explain the overwhelming desire, a need almost, to have a baby. This eventually turned to desperation as months went by without any success. My daily life and my decision making was deeply affected by this waiting and wondering as to why nothing was happening.
It took us exactly two years to conceive, a passage of time that was long enough for us as a couple to think about, discuss and make important decisions for where our life would go if it turned out we couldn’t have children unassisted or indeed at all. One of the light bulb moments for me was realising that if we weren’t going to have children, then I needed to radically change my life.
I looked at my job and where my career seemed to be headed. I looked at where we lived, how we spent our free time, what our ambitions and dreams were, the choices we had made and thought, well if there aren’t going to be any children in this picture, life has to get damn well more exciting and full and satisfying and meaningful then it is right now because right now, life wasn’t good enough. If there won’t be any children, then these…compromises, let’s call them…that we’ve made to faciliate starting and having children need to go. And that’s what they were, compromises. A lot of life and living is compromised and sacrified when you have children. Listen, when I did finally get pregnant, I was more than happy to compromise and sacrifice – and would have compromised and scarificed a very great deal more – but that doesn’t downplay that you do have to make trade offs when you have children. You have to limit yourself to create a limitless world for your babies.
Since I have become a mother, my life has been enriched and I have felt love and received love in ways I never thought possible. It has been the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done. But at the same time, it is the hardest thing I have ever done, or will do, in my life. I wanted it more than anything and still it has at times pushed me to the edge of reason. This experience all by itself has convinced me that motherhood is most definitely not for everyone. If I suspended two years of my life and put literally everything on hold while we tried to make a baby and still struggle with the challenges of mothering and parenting my son, what must it be like for a woman who finds herself with a baby when she never wanted to be a mother in the first place or circumstances have prevailed where she felt pressured to have a family?
Given the stage of life that we’re at now, with a toddler and moving in social circles with other people who have small children or babies on the way, myself and my husband often find ourselves engaged in conversations about responsible or acceptable fathering with horror stories of men’s reactions to having children and their adaptation to their new life. Stories of selfish, self absorbed, hands off, unsupportive fathers are regularly churned through rumour mills and usually end with “some men just aren’t cut out to be fathers” as if that’s a pefectly acceptable reason for a man to shirk his responsibilities. We NEVER hear the same phrase being used about women. Women are not allowed to be described as “not cut out” to be mothers. It’s like we believe that every women has an inevitable destiny to be come a mother. Because she has the biological potential, it must be realised unless something physiological prevents it. Society does not allow a woman to not be a mother because she doesn’t want to and yet the many reasons not to be are vast. Who can deny that the world is your oyster if you don’t have children? You can pursue any dream, goal, career, passion, adventure, fantasy, anything that you like without having to take anyone else into consideration. There is nothing holding you back. This is a very attractive option for your life.
If it is acknowledged that some men are not meant to be fathers and we know that there are incredible fathers in all walks of life also, surely we can deduce that some element of fatherhood is personality based? A man can have a personality and a set of morals and values that are inclined towards or inclined against being a father. Obviously, it’s the same for women. Our own experiences, our communities, our families, society and the media tell us that there are many mothers out there who should never have become mothers and have done unspeakable harm to their children because of it. One of my mottos for life – of which I have quite a few – is “just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.” This can apply to almost anything. Just pick something that you able to do, and ask yourself if it’s the right thing to do. All women can be mothers, be it biological or otherwise. There’s compelling reasons for many not to be.
I admire women who look into themselves, recognise that motherhood is not for them and choose not to be a mother. Maybe more women need to do this and know that it’s okay to make that decision. I applaud women who are brave enough to tell people that they don’t want any children because we certainly don’t make that easy for any woman. We tell her she’ll change her mind when she meets the right man. We tell her that her biological clock will ring too loudly in her ears and she’ll come around. We call her selfish. We assume she’s infertile and must secretly be dying to have a baby.
She doesn’t want a baby. She’s knows herself well enough to know that having children and being a mother isn’t for her. Being a mother is a life choice, as legitimate as any other choice, like getting a mortgage or travelling the world for a few years. Let women make their choice and then leave them alone.
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