Thursday, July 7, 2011
Today, a mother of two revealed to me that she never planned to be a mother. If it hadn't been for the accidental first pregnancy altering her perspective, she was quite happy to not have children. This made me think about my own maternal feelings and how strongly I always wanted to be a mum. Even in my teens, I longed to have babies. I remember holding my cousin's baby when I was seventeen and experiencing an overwhelming, physical response to the little bundle in my arms. During a conversation with some school friends a few years earlier, someone had suggested that they couldn't imagine me having children (they thought I'd be too busy with my career...yeah, right!) and I was devastated by the remark. I went home and cried because to me being a mother was so great a part of my vision of myself and my future life. I've always said that I would like two, a boy and a girl (which I have), but secretly I harboured the fantasy of a bigger family, by which I mean three or four. I am an impulsive idealist and I don't think I ever seriously considered the practicalities of this scenario, or the sacrifices that are asked of us when we become mothers. Those were details and I'd work them out as I went along: more than anything else, I just wanted the experience of motherhood.