On Love and motherhood

I have always known that I wanted to be a mum. From the time I was a very little girl and I received my Cabbage Patch doll. Didee Marie (my Cabbage Patch doll) went everywhere with me for quite a long time. She truly was my best friend. It was during this very special time that I shared with her that I developed my maternal skills, and practiced the care and nurturing of a fully dependent individual. Although this seems silly to say now. At the age of 2,3,4.....8 etc, it really felt like this to me. All my beautiful babies were nurtured with meticulous care. The loss or damage to one of my babies would leave a scar on my heart. I remember a time (no doubt my parents will too!) that one of my treasured toys was left 7 hours from my home at a hotel. I was insistent that that is where Red was. The hotel told my parents that they had cleaned the room and that nothing had been turned up. I don't know how much credit the average parent would give the average 7 year old about the care of their possessions; obviously we were not average. I was absolutely certain that he was at the hotel. With further questioning I told my parents that he was in my bed there. My dad again phoned the hotel and spoke to the manager. He personally went to inspect the room. As it turned out, Red had been folded into the back of the fold out sofa that I had slept on. The manager expressed posted him back to me, and I had him the following day.

I always thought that I knew what it would be like to be a mum. When these other feelings are so strong and overwhelming, surely that is what motherhood must be like. It was not until I fell pregnant that my feelings and appreciation for the deep emotion felt in motherhood began to change. My belly started to swell, and my dear baby grew larger. He started to move around, respond to my pokes. Being a teacher at the time, I was in awe that all the mothers of the children that I was teaching had been through this. I felt that I was being let into a secret that until then had been closely guarded. I worked with numerous other women at the time that were also in varying stages of their own pregnancies. I sat at a staff meeting one afternoon, watching the heavily pregnant teacher present to the staff. Being pregnant myself at the time, I was astounded that this teacher could stand up in front of us and not tell us all about how amazing and wonderful pregnancy is. With all that was going on inside me, I was swept up in the miracle and joy of it all.

Now I was blessed with a very healthy and comfortable pregnancy. I was fortunate enough to reach the end of my pregnancy still in good spirits, and not wishing it away. I remember treasuring every little kick, every bout of the hiccups (in bub). I practically lived with my video camera attached to me. I remember in the lead up to my little one's birth the frequent Dr's visits. There were concerns over the baby's size (we didn't know he was a boy at that stage). At every appointment we did an ultrasound and a size projection. At our final appointment he was projected to be 4.3kg give or take 500g (4.7kg as it turns out). A caeserian was booked. I was shattered. I was facing a grief that I had never know until this point. My Dr knew that it was really important to me to have a natural birth. He weighed the risks with me, and agreed to leave me until Friday (I was due Wednesday) to go into labour naturally and without intervention. It was on the eve of my due date that my husband first saw me cry. I cried for the loss of my right of passage to being a woman. I felt that I really couldn't be full woman without having birthed my child naturally. I really don't know where this expectation came from, but it was very strong in me. Now that I have had my child, I have come to realise that the method of his birth is not instrumental in my identity or value as a mother or woman. I take nothing away from those women, who for whatever reason, have their child in any other way. Being a mother is so much more than a baby's entry into the world. I do feel that I would have held a sense of loss had I not been able to give birth to him naturally, but I think that this would quickly have been overshadowed by holding my child in my arms.