I’m not a mom. By choice. I never woke up one day feeling like my life wouldn’t be complete unless I reproduced. I never once felt “maternal” instinct or drive or whatever it was that tripped that trigger that made people feel like they needed to go with the norm and have kids. I didn’t get it. Even though all my friends were getting married and having kids I never felt compelled to do the same. It wasn’t rebellion. Well, maybe at first it was, but sheer rebellion couldn’t compete with endless peer pressure and the ethnic expectation to make babies. No, it was something more. It was an innate knowledge that I just didn’t have what it took to hang in there for the long haul, to set aside my worries and fears that my own misspent youth would somehow transpose to whatever get I might create.
It’s ironic that someone so confident and self-assured would fear child-rearing. It’s not like it’s rocket science or anything. And it’s no reflection on my own mother and the job she did raising her family. I had a great mom! Not perfect, but without a doubt she was a great mom! And the older I get the more I see all the things my mother did right instead of all the things I was afraid of doing wrong. I miss my mother. And sometimes I miss what might have been. But not enough to wish I could go back and change things.
Happy Mother’s Day to all those Moms out there who are trying to get that shit right. You rock.