I will let you go... but later.
When the baby comes, it's all happiness. Five minutes later it's paralyzing shock. It's the shock of the expected unexpected. You knew everything would change, but this? It's beyond exhausting, it's not humanly possible. Please, take this baby back, I can't do this. As it turns out, I am not a mother after all. Oops, my bad. I'll think about it next time, now please, release me from this house arrest and take the little one with you. The diapers are on the dresser.
Then a few months pass and things settle. Mother gets better at mothering and baby gets better at being mothered. You still dream of escape but more on a part-time basis, sort of like a part-time mother. And then one day someone asks you if you like being a mother and you say yes before you had time to think. Uh, I do like it. I can't get enough of this child. I look at pictures of her when she's taking a nap, I want to plan her birthday 5 months ahead of time, I can't wait for the teeth to appear... I feel proud. I see her happy and thriving and I feel satisfaction. I like the job, I'm an accomplished mother, I have something to show for. My daughter will be a great person, a wonderful human being. She will owe it all to me, she will be grateful, I will be her best friend, she will never want to leave me. All my hard work will be returned thousandfold and I will have her all for myself forever and ever...
You are surprised to find that those feelings that tell you, you could die for your child anytime the worst possible death, those same feelings tell you to hold on to your baby as much as you can. Do not let go, they say. You fed them, you gave them life, they are yours, plus where would they go? You know their favorite food, you tuck them in at night, you drive them around, you make them birthday cake, you wipe their butts, you eat their soggy leftovers. YOU! They wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. It's all about you and the enormous sacrifice you made and still make every single day.
It's a trap. I don't know how I will get out of it, but I can not let this happen. It sounds like the parent from hell. "Oh, but I love her so much, I can't bear the thought of not having this love returned in just the same amount." But then you remember the times you were growing up and felt that grip, the heaps of guilt your parents could mount on you at any desired moment by implying your ungratefulness, or your non-compliance with their expectations. You remember the joy you felt at the prospect of being your very own person, just the way you decided to be, free to give and to love without the pressures to adapt the way you dress, censor the music you like and submit your dreams to someone else's idea of what they should be.
"But I know what's best for my child! I've known her since her very first day, what could she want that I don't know about yet?" It's incredible what sense of power motherhood will give you. It will twist your mind and make you think that you are being so selfless giving it all, while all the while you are doing it for yourself, trying to keep this baby around to return the love. It's a fine line between giving and demanding. It will be my biggest exercise in honesty yet. Is this a gift or is it a little bit of obligation put upon my child, an advance payment for services never offered? A question I will have to ask myself over and over. Maybe I wasn't cut out to be a mother after all. Anyone wants a cute little girl? The diapers are on the dresser...
Posted at 10:58 AM on April 14, 2004
"But I know what's best for my child! I've known her since her very first day, what could she want that I don't know about yet?"
Time goes much more quickly for us than it does for them. The 11 years my dd has been around is literally a lifetime to her-it is just 11 years to me. It was not that long ago she was literally a part of my body, and less time I had to pickout nutritious food for her, and so on. Little by little they break away, but the process happens a little too quickly for us in order for it to sink in. It amazes me how this person I carried for nearly 9 months, who I nursed who was a part of me cannot stand my favourite colour (pink-she likes blue) and does not like pretty dressy clothes like me, but likes jeans, sneakers and T-shirts.
Schwesterherz, du beeindruckst mich! Ich liebe deinen Schreibstil ( und was du schreibst!)!
Dora
P.S. Ich will ein kleines Mädchen...;-)