Once upon a time, I wanted to be a Mom. That’s how all the fairytales begin, right. With those four words, ‘Once upon a time’. So did mine. Married at 24 years, I had no big dreams. It was a simple life, married to a man in an arranged marriage setup, the idea was to live in the joint family, take care of in-laws, have babies and raise them as proper human beings, also to have a career which could be juggled in between all of this. And I was nearly there, except for the babies.
For a very long time, I would drown down the guilt that God must think I am a bad person or maybe it is my past karma because of which I couldn’t be a mom. My sister and I have married 4 days apart and she was blessed with Anadita within the first year of marriage whereas we (my husband and I) were not. The thing about Indian relatives is that from the very next day of being married, everyone will ask you ‘koi good news hai kya’ (Is there any good news?) and initially you blush, then after few months, you say ‘soon’ and then you end up avoiding them. We did not know when the ‘soon’ would arrive so only one of us would attend functions giving the other a respite.
Countless visits to doctors and after innumerable procedures, three operations and hundreds of hormonal injections later, we were standing at the same place, barren. Obviously, now the creepy questions of relatives pertaining to ‘good news’ had shifted to ‘helpful suggestions by naming different doctors’ and miracle stories of people who had children after 20 years of marriage. But, we had nothing. Every month I was disappointed to have aunt Flo visit me. The ovulation kits, the timing and then the sadness and depression when you see only one line on the stick, thinking that maybe the second line was visible (howsoever faintly).
The story from there was downhill, constant fights, door slamming, and then silence. That silence was engraved with sobs and tears. And then more of silence till we reached a stage where there was nothing to talk. We were civil and that was it, the civility survived but the relationship died.
This led me to this. I don’t want to be a mom. Not anymore.
You may call me selfish because you may think that I still have many good years ahead of me and then you will tell me the story of this friend of yours, who had a child at 40 years and is so happy and they have a perfect family picture. Or you may advise me, why don’t you adopt? You will give a beautiful life to an orphan child and do so much good for society. Or you may tell me that I can get married to a widower or someone who already has kids so you don’t have to have kids. Well! I say BLAH! I don’t want to be an old mom. If your friend had one at 40, good for her. I am happy for her. I don’t want to adopt a child because I am not sure if I will be able to do the unconditional love bit or be a good mom. I don’t want to be an absentee mom or adopt a child for the sake of adopting. And no I don’t think I will marry someone with or without a child, anytime soon. So, by all means, please call me weird or immature.
No, I don’t hate kids. I already had the names of my kids decided, you know! I had everything planned except that I did not have kids to fulfil those plans nor do I intend to have kids anymore to have those plans fulfilled. I love kids. In parties, you would often find me helping young moms with their kids. I attend to all birthday parties; I know everything that a mom is going through. I know about post-partum depression. I know how you should hold a baby, I know how to put them to sleep, which lullaby to be sung to them, I know how to prepare baby bottles, I know how to warm the milk, how to make sure that the baby burps. I know how to change diapers. I know how to take a girl to her ballet class, the best washrooms and I know how to get them to do homework or teach them their lessons. I can even today tell if Anadita has a fever by her eyes or just by touching her and I can tell if she is going to have bad cough a day in advance, just by the ever-so-slight change in her voice.
Yet, I don’t want to be a Mom. I don’t think I will change my mind. And yes I am scared of dying as a lonely old cat woman. I wake up at nights sometimes and think about my old age. I don’t like pets especially cats because what if someday I die and the cat ends up eating me!
Coming back to the point, I don’t want to be a mother. I have chosen it now. I did not choose it before, but at 36, I know myself fairly well. I am married to my work and my law firm is my baby. I like to mentor young people who join us, I want to set an example for young women to see that everything is achievable. You can be a first-generation anything if you are willing to put in hard work. And yes, it is completely OK to choose not to be a mom. You are not selfish or a coward or any less of a woman. You are on your own timeline and this is your life.
I come from a family where my great grandmother, my grandmother, my mom, my sister have all been working and have raised beautiful intelligent kids. I have seen them struggle and I know their stories. I have always felt that being a mother is a gift of God. And God couldn’t be present everywhere so s/he decided for all of us to have our Mom. I AM BLESSED TO HAVE A MOM LIKE MINE. She, who has believed in me, she who has stood by me every time I have cried, she who helped me to build myself back again, she who has loved me unconditionally and has had sleepless nights thinking how I will live once she is not there. I am blessed truly to have her. And I wish her Happy Mother’s Day! And I wish my sister and all the moms out there a Happy Mother’s Day.
To those of us who are similarly situated, you may or may not be a mom, and either way, it’s ok. You have to work on your timeline, you have to work on your life and you have to make choices that you feel are right and then take full responsibility for those choices. And yes! You can change your mind. Embrace what life has to offer you and make the best of it. You REALLY don’t owe anyone an explanation. I was told yesterday that writing something like this especially today will invite trolling. I guess it will. But, even if one person realises that it is OK to make your own choices, I shall be happy. My job here will be done. Please remember –
Your life, your rules.
Until next time.
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