Motherhood

When I was a child,

My mother once asked me how many kids

I’d like to have.

Without hesitation, I answered three.

Three seems like a good number,

A new beginning, a change in direction, a final bang.

It seemed so clear then,

Married at 27, children at 30,

All set.

When I was 20,

I said to myself, maybe,

I’ll just have one child.

One should be enough to satisfy my maternal instincts,

I’ll put all my energy into making one good soul,

And skip the hurdles of sibling rivalry.

I’ll have to go through the teenage years once,

Then smooth sailing.

Seemed like a good plan at the time.

All set.

When I turned 22,

I looked at my body and I looked at my past,

And realized I never wanted to be pregnant.

People say it’s magical, feeling a baby kick,

But all I could think about were things like diabetes,

And high blood pressure,

And postpartum depression.

And one thing I didn’t need was to be more depressed.

Besides, there were so many children in the world,

So many children unwanted and unloved,

Surely I could just take one of them.

A good plan. A noble plan.

All set.

When I turned 23,

I was walking to my car one day and it hit me.

I did not want children. At all.

I did not want my womanhood, my adulthood, my personhood

Tied to being a mother.

I was not a mother.

I was many things, other things,

Things I was good at.

But I was not a mother.

And I wonder now if I was ever meant to be one in the first place.

It is after all, one of the greatest challenges in life, being a mother.

And it was a challenge I no longer wanted to face.

Over ten years later, I know now I made the right choice.

It was a good plan. An honest plan.

All set.