Yesterday my advisor came back from maternity leave to show off proudly what 9 months of serious bitching may produce. Her name is Katie; she's 11 days old and is an absolute mystery. The delicacy of her features; the size of her hands--it was as if she was too perfectly doll-like to possibly be real. It's amazing the instant love and affection we humans exhibit for the young of certain creatures, like puppies, kittens, cows, bunnies, lambs, etc. Soft, fuzzy delicate miniatures of the parents, so cute in such a way as to obviously show that they need our constant love and attention. But what got me most as I was sitting there, meeting Katie White for the first time, was the look on her mother's face. It completely floored me. As I sat there with the sleeping mass in my arms, Julie had this look of immense pride and unequivocal, unconditional love, a look I had never seen on her face. In that moment, around those women, I caught a bit of an insight into the mystery and power that women have in bearing children. For men, they do not go through a physical change to create this child, then afterward the marathon-run of the attempt to expunge the largest crap-like thing of your life; they do not have this random creature constantly attached to their chest for the next few months, as women do. They do something, then nine months later or so (long enough to forget it) this thing appears and then they have to do something about it. But this is not about knocking men, this is about childbirth. I guess I never realized that amazing initial connection between child and mother, and the burning love and pride that a mother has for her child. It's truly a secret club, one that no man could ever infiltrate, no matter his drive, for it is bound by an unspoken connection to that little alien creature that took over your body for a few months, punched you from the inside out and made your ankles swell.
I think I have a different opinion on mothers at this point--when does that pride and unconditional love fade into nagging and distrust? Probably around the stratosphere that is the early teens, I wager. In my own life, when did it go from that love to this distant casual behavior and disapproval? Motherhood is a great and worthy charge in life for any woman, unlike I have ever viewed it, I however never want to answer that call. I do not want my own children; I am just not the motherly type I guess. If I am happily married and get pregnant then I will keep it, but that decision does not come without its reservations about my abilities as a person and as a mother. The proverb, "Do not judge, lest you be judged" pops into mind when my own mothering comes to the forefront of a conversation. I fear that being so critical of my own mother's abilities has made me susceptible to my own pediatric critics.
And besides, I heard the yearly dues to stay in the motherhood club are KILLER.
Aunthood is soooo much cheaper, and the benefits package includes the "give them back to their mommies" clause.
