There’s an elephant or two in this blog that need to be brought out into the open.
Though suemckay.com is barely 5 weeks old, I have already posted several references to my not being a mother. I did it again today in a post I wrote about children not being able to blow out candles on cakes. I’ve a feeling that won’t be the last time, so I want to confront this mother-of-an-elephant in an attempt to stop it swinging its trunk so blatantly in my face.
When I was eight years of age, I held my nephew Brett Leighton Girardi in my arms for the first time. Brett was just a few weeks old and I recall I was cradling him while sitting in the dining chair where my mum would normally be sat. It was symbolic really, that that was the first time I acknowledged I wanted to be a mother.
Brett is now 36. I’m 45 and I’m still not a mum. But I still want to be, I think? Or perhaps I’m saying that out of habit, because it’s what I’ve said for the past 36 years.
Now, I could go into the painful explanations of why I’m childless. This happened, that happened, bla bla bla, et cetera, et cetera. It boils down to the fact that I was a bit of a retard in relationships and it took me a long time to mature emotionally and recognise the pattern I was in, continually choosing the wrong partner. By the time I had it figured out, I’d dated, was engaged to and bought property with men who had gambling problems, abused various substances and then there was the pick of the bunch who stole my money. Winners!
I was 40 when I woke up to myself, falling in love with the right man, but by then it was all a bit too late. Long story short, it’s going to take nothing less than a miracle for me to give birth now.
The question is, do I care?
Do I still want to be a mum?
I’m pretty sure the answer is no. However, should God bless me with a miracle, I will cry tears of joy. And Dave will probably cry his 51 year old tears of sufferance!
The truth is, I feel a lot of guilt when admitting that I’m happy not being a mum. Life is really good. Life is really easy. I come and go as I please. I sleep all night. I don’t have to worry about being a role model 24/7. It confuses me, because I love children. I always have, ever since I first held Brett in my arms.
To this day, when I hear a baby or a child cry, my natural instinct is to go towards them and comfort them. I want to hear what they have to say. That’s how I know I am meant to be a mum. How is it then, that I am not? The optimist in me says that this is yet more proof that we live more than one life on this earth and I will be back, next time as a mother.
Dave and I have a very relaxed lifestyle and we both love his children very much. But they aren’t of my blood. I didn’t give them life and neither did I to my eight nephews, eight nieces and four god-children.
I am blessed to have the presence of very special children in my life, those to whom I am an auntie, godmother, stepmother and friend. I remain however, happily childless.
Now elephant, be gone.