by LEE SANDWITH
Before I became a mother I felt compelled to somehow disassociate myself from any involvement of being like other mothers – or those mothers, as some of my friends referred to them.
“Lee, if you become one of those mums who starts a ‘mummy blog’ that goes on and on about being a mum or uses every form of social media to share stories about their kid’s poo I will never speak to you again!” one childless friend threatened me, apparently teasingly.
“And don’t even think about becoming one of those mothers who parks their pram in the middle of cafes either,” stressed another kid free wanderer.
“Oh I won’t!” I assured them confidently as though the worst thing I could become was an actual mother.
This idea of motherhood and children being viewed as annoying was driven home early on when, at dinner with friends a few months before our baby was born, one of our dining companions asked if we could talk about something else as he grew tired of all the talk about babies. I was beginning to feel guilty about being a mother before I had actually had a child!
The truth is that I didn’t truly comprehend the realities of life as a mother until I was actually drowning in the day to day drudgery of life with a newborn. I felt ashamed to speak out about my experiences as a new mother because I had actively participated in the collective scorn the childless sometimes direct towards the breeding masses. This former contempt I held was something I deeply regretted as I had accidently become one of those mothers; the ones that pushed their pram into cafes with a screeching being tucked up inside it and posted photos of their baby on the internet.