I’ll never be a young Mum. At this stage I’ll be in my early 50s by the time my eldest child finishes school. That wasn’t really part of the plan I envisaged for myself long ago.
Back when I was young and naive enough to think these things could ever run to a plan, I had hoped to have at least one toddler by now. As luck and life would have it, the man I made this plan with now has two toddlers of his own, whilst I still wonder what happened to set me off course. Somewhat ironically it was probably him.
It was brought to my attention recently that I might be harbouring some subconscious anxiety that motherhood hadn’t yet joined my list of accomplishments. Had I already become a Mum I’m sure like most I would be swept up in all of the important things - loving the child, taking care of them, and of course ensuring that my child’s lunchbox creations were the envy of the other mothers. But I wonder if, up till now, I would have been the best Mum I could have been.
Since the man and our plan became a thing of the past, I’ve grown exponentially. I’ve discovered and visited countries I never knew existed, I’ve tackled challenges I never thought I would face let alone beat and I’ve learned how to make my own life and way in this world.
I’m now ready to talk to my children in multiple languages as they grow, sending them off to sleep with tales of the places Mum visited before they were born and if we’re lucky we can travel together to even more far-flung places. Being a mother hasn’t happened in accordance with my plan yet, though I can’t help but wonder if someone else has a plan that may work out even more perfectly in the end.
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This blog first appeared on Brooke's personal blog Babbling in the Desert.
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