As motherhood is the greatest and most natural God-given gift for women for posterity, it would seem that the birth and rearing of children, in the way which to us seems most ideal, would be the most satisfying and the most rewarding career for a woman.
I’ve never been the clucky type. In fact, other people’s babies give me a unique feeling and i wouldn’t say it’s a good one. I find myself overwhelmed by a nervous sensation that’s half way between a fear of dropping them and a deep desire to squeeze their cheeks so hard that they will bruise – before promptly handing them back. Around me, friends and acquaintances are creating families – ‘lives’ and I am left with an unsettling feeling of inadequacy – that even with a successful progressing career as a Project Manager, being fit and healthy- and knowing that i’m breaths away from achieving that milestone of buying my own property, I know I will still have this weird feeling inside of me that I can’t put my finger on – that i’m not good enough as a woman.
As I embark on my mid thirties, I find myself becoming more and more aware of the purpose- the core function of a woman in this world to procreate another human. And it scares me to my womb. My early thirties didn’t go as planned. I suffered the breakdown of a marriage to the man that didn’t want a family to embarking upon a roller-coaster romance with the first man in my adult life that made my ovaries slightly tingle. Amongst numerous break-ups with him, I have found myself wondering about my fertility, my core desires and my ‘truth’ – whether or not I want to be a mother and if that is something that will fill me up to the brim. For sometime now, I’ve been waiting for my ‘maternal instinct’ to kick in and to suddenly want to declare loudly to the world that I want to be a mother!
… But it hasn’t happened. And as I delve deeper with myself in my journey of self discovery and through learning to harvest my femininity via various practices including embodiment, this is one emotion that I haven’t quite managed to fully move through my body. Even as a woman that has spent around fifteen years on the pill to avoid my body’s most primal function, I am aware of a pressure to fulfil this void as a woman. But how does one discern between fulfilling what’s ‘normal’ or ‘expected’ by society, natural instinct (hormones or lack thereof) and genuine desire? While I understand completely that all big life decisions come with a perceived fear attached, this is the one that rattles me the most and the fears aren’t vague.
Firstly, the concept of the stereotypical mum. There is no internal part of me that labels herself as a mum the way society sees her. Becoming that stereotype – going to mother’s groups, giving up my career and independence to push around a pram and bitch about other mothers new botox procedures over almond lattes makes me feel sick to the stomach. I’m more a strap on the chest, hike up a mountain alone kinda girl. On that note, is it politically correct to strap a baby on during a spin class? Maybe he/she can act as extra kilos on the stair climber? I rest my case. I can’t actually see myself feeling content with the fact that I have to tend to another screaming, needy human, rather than go to the gym, bake cookies in peace or earn a living for that matter.
Then there’s the body. At 35 the chances of getting pregnant are around 15-20% during each monthly cycle. Then at 35 it’s downhill. According to google i’m headed downhill. Supposedly the chances of the body bouncing back are around the same. I already have some loose skin from fluctuating weight and It makes me very nervous to think what could happen to my body as a result of growing another human inside in my late thirties. But who cares about that, right? Mummy scars etc etc. They say your man will still find you beautiful regardless, but say that to the wives of the two in five men that are rejecting their wives for porn, extra marital sex or massages with a happy ending. Ok Ok, but what about those insta mums, you ask? The one’s plastered all over instagram holding their babies stretch mark free with their perfect tans and tiny bikinis? These women are not the norm. A combination of good genes, good camera angles, tucking in loose bits, cosmetic procedures and being 24 years young does add to the whole yummy mummy look. And hey, if you’ve got the cash, vaginal tightening cosmetic procedures are on the cards now too. That’s if your husband values you as a piece of arm candy and earns enough to invest $50k annually in cosmetic procedures.
So what about sexual desire? Oh, sex. Such a taboo topic! Combined with the inevitable changes downstairs resulting from childbirth- which i’ve had conflicting feedback on, desire will undoubtedly shift. One of my honest girlfriends told me that things just changed down there; that sex became like throwing a hotdog down a hallway and that she never quite enjoyed it the same. My other mate told me that his friends wife has her uterus just drop out when she’s at the supermarket and basically can’t enjoy sex at all. I don’t know about you but the only thing i want to be dropping on the floor at the supermarket is my car keys. While I’ve heard both ends of the spectrum- no desire to increased desire, the ballpark seems to be that sexual desire shifts and your core needs and hormone production adapts to caring for another human. Humor me. Where’s the complete appeal in this? I get it, but let’s be honest, sexual intimacy is important. If most of you aren’t doing much of it, i’d suspect that even if you won’t admit it, you wish you were doing it more. Yes, I have a strong sexual appetite for a woman. Most days I’d be more than happy to embark on a sexual venture. If I had to make a split decision whether to film a porno or make a baby I know which would excite me more. If i can’t get my man into bed frequently enough now, then why would he desire me more when we are sleep deprived, my stomach skin is sagging and my vagina is fit to park a mini cooper? Oh how incredibly shallow of you H.V.G! As if sexual desire matters when you’re staring into the eyes of another human that you created yourself! Call me shallow, but it really is a genuine fear and I am likely speaking a truth that many women are afraid to voice.
And then there’s the stuff- oh the stuff! One of my girlfriends said, ‘oh but you get used to having all of the stuff’. Well… i’m not so convinced. I have such structured dreams about styling an incredible home. Picture Arizona meets Canadian log cabin. My dreams don’t involve placing jungle gyms and rockers in my living room and the thought of the constant mess and soiled clothing is enough to make me have kittens. And if you know me well, you would know I’m not a cat person… Moreover, having a tradie boyfriend that thinks that screws and concrete are washing machine friendly is enough stress for a woman like me. And as a career woman who has only recently experienced my first taste of non working life, I am also torn between some weird blurry desire and my innate need to work, have a career, earn money, earn my possessions, travel, buy property and not rely on another person to support me or fulfil my core needs. There is so much more to accomplish in life and I am shit scared of taking the wrong turn and experiencing regrets, whatever they may be.
And yet, even writing this article, I keep looking back at the statistics. My actual chances of falling pregnant aren’t incredible. So, given my apparent aversion and apprehension towards the topic, why does reading these statistics make me feel sick to the stomach? Surely this should only bother me if I have a deep core desire to be a mum? But for me it’s about allowing myself to enter the safe realm of choice. I want to be in a position where I am able to make the decision consciously- knowing that I am supported emotionally and financially by my man should I choose to sacrifice my body and knowing that putting my career on hold will not be the worst mistake of my life. My inherent nature – my learned behaviours from childhood is to work hard, earn my possessions and to make my own way in life – and that children are a burden. As I approach 35, the anxiety attached to the concept of motherhood is all-consuming.
But I can’t run away from this. One of life’s greatest decisions- life’s biggest opportunities for choice – taking one path vs another will shape a woman – for better or worse- for the rest of her life.
High Value Girl 