I was 5 years old when the preparations for my future began. However, I thought about becoming a mother or a teacher: the only two roles I had seen women take on.
I didn’t realize, in theory, I could do whatever I wanted. Even after I realized, there was still an underlying caveat that I would be a mother one day.
I sat in class, trying to understand how I could make some sort of career for myself, but still be able to pick up my future children from school. As I attended a Catholic school during my elementary years, motherhood was synonymous with femininity and what it meant to be a woman. It wasn’t until seventh grade that I realized this wasn’t necessarily true.
Growing up surrounded by traditional gender roles made me feel somewhat inadequate for wanting to pursue a career other than motherhood.
Throughout high school, I began to fully reject the idea of motherhood. I detested the idea of having children and my aspirations began to revolve around becoming a physician. I began to see traditional female roles as something that could hold me back.
After that epiphany, I have since thought about how intense expectations breed resentment.
The expectation of motherhood plagued the perceptions of what I was supposed to be. So, with that, I rejected the very prospect that I would ever have children — let alone ever become a mother.
The issue for me now is that I feel like my perspectives of motherhood have been shaped through the lens of expectation, because I never had time to form my own thoughts on the subject.
Through my relationships with women, especially my mother and grandmother, I have grown to treasure the idea of a bond between mother and child. It is through the continuous, dynamic and ever-growing relationship with my mother that I find beauty and empathetic love.
Conversations with my mother about her life before me and the dreams that she has fulfilled always left me longing for a comparable type of relationship — a desire I only recognized when presented with the privilege of choice.
The female members of my family jump started this outlook, but my female friends and their own mothers have further accentuated it.
The optimism that motherhood can bring seems so much more valuable when viewing it from the age of 19 than when I was just 5 years old. The plan laid out for me when I was young seemed so daunting, like a twisted prophecy I was predetermined to fulfill. So, I only focused on the negatives of motherhood.
Fast forward, and I have grown fond of the idea that I could, one day, become a mother. However, it feels taboo to want to become a mother and have a steady career. The two feel exclusive from each other. Becoming a mother is a betrayal of everything I have worked for in my short life. It feels contradictory to me to be attending university with big aspirations, and to even toy with the idea of having children.
I can’t ignore the disagreeable feeling I get with even thinking this way in the first place. Why does higher education and motherhood seem to clash at times? It doesn’t seem to hold such a contradictory nature for men. If anything, the male career and family life seem to go together perfectly.
It’s disappointing how in today’s world, I’ve noticed that motherhood can be a detriment on both sides.
Women who decide motherhood isn’t necessarily for them — a completely respectable choice — are seen as not fully living up to their biological potential.
On the other side, women who choose the more “traditionally feminine” route are judged for not pursuing a career. It seems as if the cons outweigh the pros.
In times like these, I look to my aunt, who worked a very high power job for about a decade while raising her three daughters — in a wonderful way I might add.
I also hear stories from my mother about my grandmother, and how, even as a single mother, she was able to form beautiful memories with my mother. Later, when she quit working, she did the same with her grandchildren.
Finally, I think about my mother, the woman who tells me how it was her dream to have children. It was not something that she felt compelled to do out of necessity or expectation, but simply pure desire.
Ask yourself: Do I think the possibility of motherhood while balancing a career is unheard of? What does it mean to want to be a mother for yourself? What does it mean for you to want both kids and a career, or nothing at all? I’m not sure that I have all of those answers for you, since motherhood is never going to be a universal choice, experience or plan.
I can only offer my two cents: look at the lovely women of your bloodline or community, and your outlook may change. Motherhood: to be or not to be? I think dissolving that ingrained binary yourself, may be the start.
