Motherhood

My thinking about motherhood evolved over the years. When I was in my late teens, I blithely declared that I wanted a brood of three or four children. I think I came to that number because I have two other siblings and we were a happy bunch together (even though we had lots and lots of squabbles). I did not consider just how much four children would cost and I had no concept how hard raising four children would be. When I was in my twenties, getting married and having children was something I really wanted. I wanted to love a child and I believed having a child is the only way to accomplish two seemingly contradictory things at the same time: grow up and experience childhood again. The former because once one becomes a father or a mother, one takes upon oneself an awesome responsibility that requires sacrifice, patience and selfless love. Life becomes something other than activity to please oneself only. That is the growing up part. The latter happens because I expect that when my child asks me why the sky is blue, as all children inevitably ask, I too will ponder again why the sky is blue and remember that once upon a time, the sky was new to me and that I did not take for granted that the sky is blue (why not pink? why is it a boy color?).

In my imagination, I would be the kind of mother who gets down on all fours to show my little one the miracle of an ant. I would show her the wonders of this world. I think I had a very romantic - and almost fantastic - idea of parenting and motherhood. It was not baseless fantasy. I met great kids during my travels in Nepal and Kenya. Emily, Christopher and Nicholas were a pleasure to be with - enthusiastic and thoughtful about what they were seeing, polite and considerate to others - and they inspired joy and hope. They shaped my imagination.

Then, in my early thirties, I started to rethink my wish for children. I think I started to think that it is a selfish act to bring another child to life just because I want to experience motherhood. After all, life, though sweet and triumphant at moments, involves lots of pain too (A very Buddhist concept: Life, Age, Illness and Death. Each stage involves suffering). Then, I was doubtful of my ability to provide for my child as well as my parents provided me (I assumed I would end up marrying a man who earns a middle-income). It is not just about material things and holidays and college, it is about a somewhat worry-free existence. In my imagination, I wanted these things for my child/children and I felt that if I can't provide, I shan't have any. I told my mom about this and she had only two things to say: 1. "if your father and I thought like you, we would never have had any children. You just have children and then you make the money." 2. "You have the cart before the horse. Why think of children when you have no husband?" (for the record, my mom never hurried any of us to get married or have children).

Then, I met Dennis. Not that the doubts have melted away, but the wish to have a child with him won over. Partly because a child is a continuation of our love, but mostly because I wish for Dennis to have in his old age the joy of the friendship and love he would share with our child, the pride of knowing he - us - raised such a fine person. I'm assuming that our child would come home, be our friend, and would become a loving, wonderful citizen.

So here we are. Like it or not, whatever my thinking about motherhood and parenthood, we have a little one. A very fine little one. I only hope we know how to raise her so that she will be equip to be happy and that she will be happy.

Finally, since Zoe came into our lives, I feel such tenderness towards babies and children. I - and Dennis too - wish so much that no child in this world would ever feel hurt or pain or deprivation. And so now I understand why some people adopt, and why it is something I would consider doing if I have the resources. Not so much because I want to enjoy motherhood, but because I want to protect a child from feeling uwanted and unloved.