Broodiness and Other Ills

Good afternoon to ya!

For as long as I can remember, probably from around age seven or so, I loved mothering. Forget barbies, I played with baby dolls. I would save all my pocket money to spend on baby clothes and toys for my dolls. Whenever I saw a lady with a baby, I was compelled to hold it. When I was eight, my niece was born, and I loved 'looking after' her when we visited. In my early teens, I began to consider my future career choices, and I felt that the obvious course was childcare. So from age fourteen I volunteered, and later worked, at a local preschool. I was in my element. I loved doing the tasks that other teachers despised, like nappy changes and feeding times. These were opportunities for me to spend one-on-one time with the little ones, and I grew extremely attached to them. I got to see their first teeth, witness their first steps, hear their first words, watch all the little milestones that their parents were missing out on. When I finally left the preschool, I began doing babysitting in my free time, and I enjoyed every minute of it. 

So, I was sure, for as long as I can remember, that I wanted to be a mom. I connected well with children, I loved nurturing, and I felt that when I had children of my own, I could provide them with everything that I didn't have growing up. I could do a better job than my parents, and give my little ones a stable and loving environment in which to grow and flourish. 

You may notice, I used the past tense. In the last year or so, my longing for motherhood had waned. This saddens me somewhat, for it was always one of the things that defined me. I was the mother hen, even amongst groups of my peers or elderly people. This having been said, I have come to realise why this change has occurred. 

I have been very unwell for the past year and a half, which I will discuss in a later blog post. But these days, I find it difficult to even look after myself, never mind a family of my own. I need assistance with everyday tasks, as I am chronically fatigued. It is quite obvious that childcare requires a great deal of patent effort, and is exhausting for the strongest of women. Children are full of energy, and their lively, boisterous activity now simply exhausts me before I even begin to interact with them. And the thought of long, sleepless nights in the care of an infant, is now, quite honestly, traumatic.Also, as I have matured, I have come to a few sobering realisations: 

1) I will repeat my parents mistakes. Okay, perhaps not all of them. But as an adult, I have noticed that I have a similar attitude towards the raising of children, that my parents had. I catch myself shaking my head at an unruly child, and thinking, "My parents would never have let me get away with that" or, "When I was a kid, I would have got a good smack for doing that." I see in myself the tendency toward the same attitudes of my parents. And that realisation puts me off the idea of being a parent.

2) I will make my own mistakes. Quite frankly, I have come to believe that anyone who says that they feel totally ready and prepared to be a parent, or who thinks that they would do a great job as a parent, is either too young or too immature to have children. I say this, in part, because when I was eighteen, nineteen, I believed just that. It took me a while to realise that we are all limited by our imperfections and upbringing, and that once we are in a situation where we have to decide what is best for another little person, we will undoubtedly mess up, at least some of the time. Do I really want to subject an innocent little human to all the mistakes that I haven't made yet?

3) This is a cruel world. If you haven't realised that yet, I guarantee you that it is just a matter of time before you do realise it. Every child that is born must live amongst crime, violence, death, and instability. No matter what you do as a parent, you cannot shelter them from all the dangers and corrupting influences around us. In school, your child will face drugs, sex, alcohol, weapons, bullying, racism, and much more. Now I, as someone who does not have children, can choose not to bring a precious baby into this world and let it go through all this suffering. A little melodramatic, you might say, but a legitimate line of reasoning non the less. 

I still love children, and every time a friend has a baby, I get broody all over again. Children are a precious gift from God, and if I ever did end up with a child, I would view it as such. But it must be said, that all too many young couples dive into parenthood with the selfish notion that it will somehow right the wrongs of their childhood, or fulfil their own need for something to nurture. To be a parent is not a light or short term responsibility. So, for 
now, I content myself with looking after my pets and cooing over other people's lovely littlies :) 

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