I was accused recently in an article I wont give credence by linking to, of being ‘gag worthy’ for a post I wrote when my daughter was four weeks old, in which I took a humorous look at the things that have changed in my life since becoming a mother.
This person went further and said that I ‘perpetuated the myth’ of all the tough times being worth it, and that I was toeing the party line.
Once that faded, I felt a little ashamed. No, it wasn’t my best writing, it wasn’t even close. But four weeks post partum, it was how I felt. And for that I don’t apologise.
After a few weeks of mulling it over in my head, however, I no longer feel any of that.
I am a mother. I have wanted to be a mother for years. When I walked into my GP’s office and had tears well up when I asked about ivf sydney treatments, I wanted to have my own baby. When I conceived before our first appointment, I was blown away.
When I peed on that stick, three times, I cried. When I bled from weeks five to twenty of my pregnancy, I cried every time I went to the toilet. I held my stomach and begged my baby to fight to stay. I begged my child to live.
When I was more sick than I’ve ever been in my life, I was scared. When I was hospitalised, I was terrified.
When I gave birth, my whole life changed in the moment our eyes locked. That’s not a party line. That’s a fact.
She pulls my hair, scratches holes in me with nails that grow faster than seems possible and spits up on anything clean I happen to put on. She wakes when I’m in the middle of typing an email and falls asleep when I’ve walked all the way to the park to show her the ducks.
I’m sure there’s a lot more I can say about the things that are ‘bad’ or ‘frustrating’, but I can’t think of anything else right now. Because, party line or not, there is nothing about this little girl that isn’t worth every sleepless night, every pulled out hair or every change that’s come my way.
I adore my baby. She’s everything I dreamt of, everything I prayed for, everything I cried bitter tears for at the thought of losing. I might not have much else to talk about, might not have some major contribution to society and might be misleading other women into thinking motherhood is as amazing as I think it is.
And if I could sincerely apologise, I would, but I can’t.
The fact is that I am unashamedly, unreservedly, unreluctantly, without fail, head-over-heals in love with my little girl and grateful to her for the amazing gift of motherhood that she has given me.