ISSUE S


Reader round table


It takes a woman to make a baby – but a baby doesn’t make a woman


We asked women over 35 who had not had a baby, for whatever reason, to share their stories with us, particularly at this time when we regale mothers on Mothers Day. For some of these women it may be an emotional day. Perhaps the biggest issue they face is the expectation that they would or should have babies and that they are incomplete if they don’t fall into step with the majority.


the pain was too much to know what to do with. I still think about that moment of my evolution as a woman and wonder what could’ve been – did I make the right choice? Does any woman truly know that? Nineteen years on and I have regret for


that decision. The child would have been eighteen this year. Hindsight can be cruel – if only


I’d given it more thought at the time, but when you’re afraid… I did what I thought was right in that


Acceptance


by Annie Afrodite, writer, dancer and lover of life ALL OF MY LIFE I’d wanted and naively


just expected that one day I’d become a mum. I’ll be 42 this year and I’ve been pregnant once in my life. I was 23, partying much too hard for an expectant mother, and knew I wasn’t equipped for children yet. So the immediate choice I (we) made was to abort. The termination didn’t go without


consequence. Nobody had prepared me for the hormones. Soon after, I had a nervousness break down, teetering on the edge of suicide. In my youthful mind, I’d taken a poor, innocent, voiceless 12-week-old life, and


36 MAY 2015


moment of my life, but when I turned 38 and I was still childless, something happened to me – an overwhelming sense of desperation and urgency. I found myself irresponsibly acting


out my unconscious fears; having unprotected sex with careless thoughts of ‘if it happens… whoops’; secretly willing it along, planning sex around ovulation time, phantom fooling myself into thinking I felt morning sickness when my period came a few days late… All kinds of madness. I found myself struggling to be around


children and mothers because it triggered all my failings as a woman. I even went to the lengths of posting


a couple of my toddler photos on social media with the hope that some friend- of-a-friend might see it and think, ‘I want to procreate with that woman because she’d produce the cutest offspring.’ Ridiculous! There was grief around having the gift of a woman’s body, yet


an inadequacy of never having used it to its fullest potential. Heavily weighted thoughts that somehow I’d failed my role as a woman, questioning the reason for my existence if I didn’t have children, all took me a couple of years of therapy to overcome. The fact that it may never happen for


me became an incredibly dark place to operate from. There was shame in telling people I was going to therapy about it all, because no one ever spoke about these issues openly. It’s a suppressed truth suffered in


silence, which warrants a voice when this is a screaming reality for many of us. When I finally stopped comparing


myself to everyone else and surrendered to the idea that what is meant to be will be, everything suddenly became okay. Once I’d embraced that faith, I found


I could finally function from a place of acceptance as a ‘complete’ woman again – one whose life has taken an altered path – a path that is fulfilling and purposeful in other ways. Sure, it’s still not too late, but I’m not certain I have it in me any more. I’m blessed to be a surrogate aunty to


all of my friends’ children, whom I adore and would do anything for. And then, when they’re having a tantrum,


I can hug and kiss them at the door, wave goodbye and gladly walk away … And I’m really okay with that!


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