Maybe it is the visuals—everyone I grew up with now has a baby—or the cheeky reminder by some that my biological clock is ticking, but now and more than ever, I find myself thinking of being a mother and the changes that will bring.
There is no single feeling that overwhelms me when I think of it. I daydream of the joy, acknowledge and ponder the responsibility, fear the physical changes and wonder profusely about the possible loss my original self. As clichéd as it sounds, a baby truly changes everything, and it is that alteration, the depths and magnitude of which are unknown until it occurs, that is often terrifying.
Along with the many other pressures women must often face, with motherhood, society somehow manages to force the sacrifice of almost everything else that once defined us and further shames us into feeling contemptible for wanting to not sacrifice our entire selves. While a fraction of this is arguably true and necessary for the wholesome development of a child, being one’s true self should not be lost in the quest to raise a good natured being. It is possible to do both.
