Memoir

by Bianca Cooper

 

I was never one of those women with an innate need to have children but I met and married a man who had always wanted children so I knew that one day I would become a mother.  

Before meeting my husband I had made no secret of the fact that I was not the motherly type and had often commented that I just did not really like children. Everyone told me that I would feel maternal when it was my own child and having a baby and being a mother would just come naturally.

I wanted to believe them and I soon found myself getting caught up in my husband’s excitement and so six months after getting married, I was pregnant. I bought and read every book and magazine with pregnancy in the title and bookmarked countless websites to help me prepare, so I was more than ready to become a mother.

As the due date approached I became more and more excited and could not wait to meet my little baby. After a traumatic birth including high blood pressure (me), dropping heart rate (baby) and an emergency C-section, little Archie was in my arms and I was finally a mum.

Well imagine my surprise when it dawned on me that despite nine months of research I had absolutely no idea what to do with this tiny baby who was doing his best to communicate with a mother who had forgotten to buy the book titled Babies and how to understand them.

I second-guessed everything that I did and found myself wondering if maybe everyone was wrong and I just did not have the maternal gene. It was this wondering that started a silent panic and made the first few weeks of Archie’s life the most challenging and confronting weeks I had ever faced.

I had never experienced such self doubt in my life. I was good at my job, had a wonderful relationship with my husband and had generally experienced success in my life. This feeling of inadequacy was so foreign and very unwelcome.

I was a woman who prided myself on my organisation, who was sociable and who loved trying new things, suddenly I found that I could no longer control my day. I was proud if I managed to organise time for a shower. I craved phone calls, text messages and visits just so I could have a conversation and the only new thing I craved was a good night’s sleep.

I felt constant guilt that I was not feeling overwhelming love for motherhood as a new role. I loved Archie and I loved elements of motherhood but the whole package was utterly exhausting. I thought about all the gushing mothers I knew who would espouse the joys of motherhood and felt terrible that I just did not see it. When people asked me how I was enjoying it all I wanted to say was how hard it all was but instead I gushed like I thought I should.

I now wonder if other mums felt like I did and just pretended to make others feel less uncomfortable. The strangest part was that I was not depressed. I was just mourning a life I had known and loved for a new life of unknowns and challenges.

This story is not all doom and gloom.

With every day that I kept Archie alive I started to gain confidence. With every gram of weight he gained I started to think I might be succeeding, and when he started to look at me and smile I started to enjoy being his mum and started to gush with total honesty.

I still have times when I miss being able to leave the house in under 10 minutes, and when I miss wearing an outfit for a whole day without it getting dirty but I think I would miss having someone stare at me as if I was their whole world much more.

I am still unsure, still make lots of mistakes and still second-guess myself when faced with a new challenge but I think this is a normal part of becoming a mother and becoming responsible for the life of another. I wish I had trusted myself more and had given myself time to learn and appreciate the changes happening in my life.

I guess in the end everyone was right...when you are holding your own child in your arms it is impossible to not be a mother. I am a woman, I am a wife, I am a friend and now I am a mother...and I can do it all.

 

© Bianca Cooper