Mother/daughter story

tryu

We are sitting at lunch one day when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family." "We're taking a survey," she says half-joking.. "Do you think I should have a baby?"

"It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral. "I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations." But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her.

I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes.

I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.

I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking, "What if that had been My child?"

That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her.

That when she sees pictures of starving children, she'll wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.

I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub.

That an urgent call of "Mum!" will cause her to drop a souflé or her best crystal without a moments hesitation.

I feel that I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell.

She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep her from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.

I want my daughter to know that every day decisions will no longer be routine.

That a five year old boy's desire to go to the mens room rather than the womens at McDonald's will become a major dilemma.

That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom.

However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.

Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself.

That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child.

That she would give herself up in a moment to save her off-spring, but will also begin to hope for more years, not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.

I want her to know that a Caesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honour.

My daughter's relationship with her husband will change, and not in the way she thinks.

I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.


I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving.

I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike.

I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or cat for the first time.

I want her to taste the joy that is so real it actually hurts.

My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I finally say.

Then I reached across the table, squeezed my daughter's hand and offered a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings.

Please share this with a Mum that you know or all of your girlfriends who may someday become a Mum.

May you always have in your arms the one who is in your heart.

Mrs JackDaniels

tryu wrote: »

We are sitting at lunch one day when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family." "We're taking a survey," she says half-joking.. "Do you think I should have a baby?"

"It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral. "I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations." But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her.

I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes.

I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.

I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking, "What if that had been My child?"

That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her.

That when she sees pictures of starving children, she'll wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.

I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub.

That an urgent call of "Mum!" will cause her to drop a souflé or her best crystal without a moments hesitation.

I feel that I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell.

She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep her from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.

I want my daughter to know that every day decisions will no longer be routine.

That a five year old boy's desire to go to the mens room rather than the womens at McDonald's will become a major dilemma.

That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom.

However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.

Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself.

That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child.

That she would give herself up in a moment to save her off-spring, but will also begin to hope for more years, not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.

I want her to know that a Caesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honour.

My daughter's relationship with her husband will change, and not in the way she thinks.

I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.


I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving.

I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike.

I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or cat for the first time.

I want her to taste the joy that is so real it actually hurts.

My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I finally say.

Then I reached across the table, squeezed my daughter's hand and offered a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings.

Please share this with a Mum that you know or all of your girlfriends who may someday become a Mum.

May you always have in your arms the one who is in your heart.

eh ok then

4zn76tysfajdxp

Then what did she say?

tryu

It's not my story - just passed it on - sorry I don't have the answer!

RHunce

dont be so selfish, your reflecting your feelings on to what you think your daughter will experience. she has the same right to have a family as you did. you love her right? then you will love seeing her loving her child. whatever insecurities you had doesnt mean that she will also have them.

that was quite the odd rant by the OP

Ah lads come on - it was obviously a cut&paste
and I think it was lovely actually



...god, I think something must be wrong with me if I'm calling THAT lovely *books self into crazyhouse*

C.D.

Mrs JackDaniels wrote: »

eh ok then

Lol, after reading the OP's post (and feeling very paternal and somewhat emotional), it is nice to be reminded that boards never fails to make me laugh.

4zn76tysfajdxp

bluewolf wrote: »

...god, I think something must be wrong with me if I'm calling THAT lovely *books self into crazyhouse*

*Processes booking*

*Admits bluewolf and shows her to her quarters*
























*Throws away the key*

tryu

Cheers Bluewolf - it was a cut and paste.

Gauge

It looks like you copy and pasted it from my grandmothers inbox

Needs more sparkly gifs though.

Jules

jesus guys you dont have to crap all over a nice post! next out of line comment will be followed by bannage!

asdasd

Yeah. I thought it was lovely.

Boo!!!!! . i am a macho man, I swear!!!!

Who was the original author, OP? It reads American, like New Yorker style.

The Sweeper

Aww. How sweet.

My mother, on the other hand, told me from the moment I was old enough to walk that when you get married and have children, your life's over. That you won't be able to go to the toilet without one of them looking for you. That every time you go to the shop you'll be asked to bring back something. That you'll never have a moment's peace. That you'll pass a shop window for years and never buy anything for yourself. That no matter what you imagine, nothing can prepare you for motherhood.

But hey, you know, for every pair of rose coloured glasses there has to be some bitter, negative aul cynic.

Joey the lips

Its a lovely story but would you change the feeling? Never! The one thing I always say "How did i ever manage without kids"

Crumble Froo

actually, this is pretty good. i've a good mind to print it out and keep it in my pocket/wallet at all times, and the next time someone makes an ever so subtle hint about me having a kid, i can show it to them and honestly say 'no thanks, very very little of this is in any way desirable to me, but i get how some people could want it'.

i think it's fair to say that most of that is quite true of my own mother and tbh, my goal in life since i was about 11/12 years old, is not to end up like her, and i know that if i had kids, i would.

Stargal

God, that's totally depressing.

Maybe I'm thinking about it too much - in fact, that's probably a given - but to me, it just rams home how your entire life is expected to change once you have kids, and that if you're not this uber-mum who is utterly devoted to her kids then you're a bad mother.

Stuff like this:

That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child.

makes me want to cry or hold my head in my hands or hit someone.

GirlInterrupted

Crumble Froo wrote: »

a
i think it's fair to say that most of that is quite true of my own mother and tbh, my goal in life since i was about 11/12 years old, is not to end up like her, and i know that if i had kids, i would.

I think its quite true of my mother too.
But I've always admired my mother and would be quite delighted to end up like her.

LouOB

Admired my mother
But (big BUT) not envived - now maybe with 3+ holidays a year and comfortable pension to fall back on.
Yet three kids, sounds painful in every language

I likes my sleep

midlandsmissus

I thought that was lovely.

I dont have children, my mum always says to me 'life is before and after children - you just cant explein what its like to have one to some-one who doesnt have one'

Im really excited that I have yet to experience something so great

midlandsmissus

Stargal wrote: »

God, that's totally depressing.

Maybe I'm thinking about it too much - in fact, that's probably a given - but to me, it just rams home how your entire life is expected to change once you have kids, and that if you're not this uber-mum who is utterly devoted to her kids then you're a bad mother.

Stuff like this:

makes me want to cry or hold my head in my hands or hit someone.

Thats funny cause I see that bit as a great thing. You stop worrying/obsessing baout yourself so much when you have some-one else to look after.

dara95

[I must remember to read the charter of this forum with regard to the acceptability of my rapier wit]

Majd

Dudess

Jules wrote: »

jesus guys you dont have to crap all over a nice post! next out of line comment will be followed by bannage!

Jules, surely people can give negative opinions on it?

Minesajackdaniels wrote: »

Aww. How sweet.

My mother, on the other hand, told me from the moment I was old enough to walk that when you get married and have children, your life's over. That you won't be able to go to the toilet without one of them looking for you. That every time you go to the shop you'll be asked to bring back something. That you'll never have a moment's peace. That you'll pass a shop window for years and never buy anything for yourself. That no matter what you imagine, nothing can prepare you for motherhood.

Actually, I think the self-indulgent ramble says pretty much the same thing.

GirlInterrupted

Minesajackdaniels wrote: »

Aww. How sweet.

My mother, on the other hand, told me from the moment I was old enough to walk that when you get married and have children, your life's over. That you won't be able to go to the toilet without one of them looking for you. That every time you go to the shop you'll be asked to bring back something. That you'll never have a moment's peace. That you'll pass a shop window for years and never buy anything for yourself. That no matter what you imagine, nothing can prepare you for motherhood.

But hey, you know, for every pair of rose coloured glasses there has to be some bitter, negative aul cynic.

I'm probably from an alternative universe, but I don't see any of those things as being particularly negative. Being needed by your child isn't a drawback as far as I'm concerned, and not everyone is going to be impoverished by the financial strain of children.

I don't see that as having no life, just a different kind of life, and personally its one I want.

My mother says something different, she says that nothing prepares you for the love you'll feel, the fun you'll have, the ways you'll develop as a person and in particular as a woman, and that although there'll be worry, although you'll never be as concerned for yourself as others again, its totally, completely, and immeasurably worth it.

Liquorice

tryu wrote: »

I feel that I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell.

She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep her from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.

...

That she would give herself up in a moment to save her off-spring, but will also begin to hope for more years, not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.

That was all sweet... but are these universal experiences? The thought of being psychologically unable to reach, or at least aspire to the top of any field because of having kids turns me off motherhood completely. Not necessarily for the sake of success in any mean or monetary way, but for the sake of making major discoveries and advancing human knowledge. Are all Nobel laureates bound to be either male or childless?