Motherhood

I don’t think I would be a bad mother. I mean, I worry about being too self-obsessed, having high standards and about (unsuspectingly and unconsciously) transferring my own neuroses onto a child. But, I wouldn’t hit them, I wouldn’t berate them, I wouldn’t begrudge their existence. I would love them. I expect I would anyway. It is rare to meet someone who regrets having their children. Sure, I realize there are times when parents wish they could lie in on a weekend. Could watch television without interruption, or have a night out occasionally with friends. But, when I look around I mostly only see love. I only see parents who would give everything they have, including their own lives, for their children. I am sure I would be like that.

So why is it that some people don’t want me to be a mother? I don’t think they imagine I would be a bad mother. So, is it fair that I am unable to be a mother because I have no man to love me, to share my dream of parenthood and to impregnate me?

When I imagined my life it wasn’t like this. I wasn’t a single mid-level public servant spending her nights with books and television, paying off a mortgage single-handedly. I was married (or at least partnered, though most likely married in my young fantasies). I had an adoring husband and I had children. I probably also had a fulfilling career – of sorts. Though as a youngster I was never ambitious career-wise, other than teenage dreams of modeling, acting or writing.

But here I am. Forty-one years old and single. Forever single. After a lot of travel (and self-loathing), in my mid-thirties I decided to make a conscious effort to meet someone. A man out there also (even if unconsciously) looking for me. I went out to the pub only to find a few drunken win-ons (well two actually!). I went speed dating. I went to a couple of singles’ functions. I tried online dating. And yet. Here I am. Forty-one years old and single. In my darker moments I despair that I am unloved and unwanted. That I will always be. That I will never experience being in love, and being loved. I will forever yearn for intimacy – not just the physical type, but the more important type. The kind you get from someone who loves you and knows you. The real you. Again I want to ask if that is fair. It isn’t, but I am a contributor to that. I cannot feel rejected, because I have not met someone who I thought I could love, who I wanted to love.

But here I am. I have been waiting for love to find me. I have proactively sought it out. But now I am tired of looking and thinking about it.

But there was more to my dream than that. There was a family. I have never imagined that I would not have children. I have always loved children. I have waited, patiently, for the rest of my dream, so that children may come too. Of course, I realize it isn’t always that easy. For many women and families, children may never come – no matter how much they are desired.

I may sound like a petulant child. But, I don’t think it is fair that I cannot be a mother, that I cannot have a child, just because I have no husband. No partner. I have contemplated this for many years. I didn’t think it would come to this. But I have to make a decision. I am 41-years old. It may already be too late.

I have contemplated the financial implications. A single woman, working to pay off her mortgage. Can I afford to have a child? Can I even afford to get impregnated? What it keeps coming back to for me is…. cannot I afford not to try? Can I afford to reach 50, 60, 70 years of age and live constantly in regret of lost love. Love that was never experienced, but was there to give.

I cry as I write this. But the decision is no longer an emotional one. I have thought about this constantly. I have stressed over taking a 3-month old child to daycare at 7am; working all day. Picking them up at 6pm, tired and exhausted. Only to have the child cry through the night. Perhaps it would not be like this. But I expect the worst. My niece did not sleep through the night until she was 2-years old, so I suffer no delusions about a 2-month old child sleeping through the night. Perhaps I can take 6 months off work. I can downgrade my home. I can budget accordingly. After all, people with far less than I, make it happen.

So, despite everything, I have started the process. I now need to make some final decisions. How far am I prepared to go? Emotionally and financially, to make my dream a reality?

I am saddened by the lack of support from those who are supposed to provide it unconditionally. I have doting parents. My only valentine’s day card is from my mother who writes, “I am sure (and hope) that you know how very special you are to us. May your year be a special one and may you find joy and much satisfaction in all parts of your life.”

But, my mother has been unfailingly negative about this since I first raised it several years ago. I know she will come around. It isn’t ‘how’ I am doing it. But that I am doing it at all that worries her. Last night she told me that she hoped I realized that I would get no support from my brother and sister-in-law, and that my brother in fact asked her at Christmas to talk some sense into me on this issue. I am not sure whether their concerns relate to me being able to manage financially, or is about the burden of being a single parent. I cannot believe they would think that I have not considered these things in making my decision.

I had already decided not to tell my brother and sister-in-law anything until there is no going back. I am occasionally surprised by their support, but unlike my parents, they are rarely there for me on an emotional level. I never tend to count on them for that type of support. And, my brother is perhaps the one person in my life who I can love and hate with equal passion.

My friends, however, are unfalteringly there for me. They were surprised that I went through with the research and even made appointments. I am typically apathetic. But, this is different. This is important. This is my life.

The next step is the key one. It is the one where I take that leap. I don’t know what will happen after that. Perhaps nothing but disappointment and devastation. There will be no going back. But, at least there will be no regrets.

Benching the B-team: Eli, Army Wives & Gossip Girl

It happens all of the time in sport. The star players get injured, or have representative duties and it is up to the ‘second string/ to suit up and keep the momentum going. They often do a great job and give some of the stars a run for their money. But, inevitably, the star players come back and the b-team are benched – often with little recognition for having carried the load for a while.

It just isn’t fair. The bench-warmers have kept everything chugging along; have earned their stripes; have given their hearts and souls; but like the bridesmaids – it isn’t about them – they should know their place. They are there to keep the seats warm. Like I said, it isn’t fair.

I am similarly aggrieved at the disdainful treatment of off-season television shows.

Always concerned at what TV Executives might foist upon us unsuspecting viewers during summer (here in Australia), I await the non-ratings viewing offerings with skepticism. Of course, sometimes I am surprised. Last summer, for example, we were treated to the quite watchable Women’s Murder Club. This summer, along with the inevitable re-runs of the tried and true favourites and a myriad of reality shows about police, customs officers, surf lifesavers and doctors, we were offered Eli Stone, Gossip Girl, Army Wives and (very briefly) the Ex-Files –to name but a few.

Like previous years, we were inundated with promotions for these shows and sucked in to their storylines as they appeared, slotted in between cricket, tennis and golf. Like previous years, we came to care about these shows, the characters and then they were unceremoniously ripped from our lives as TV Execs return from their overseas holidays and as critics and pollsters wipe the sleep from their eyes and stretch, awakened from hibernation. Summer has ended. The ratings season has begun.

But what about us? What about Eli and his tumour, the Army Wives and the Gossip Girl? We are left hanging. Sure, we have the old favourites back. And, I do say “Yay!” for new episodes of House, Law & Order SVU etc, but… what about the B-team? What about those the bench-warmers who comforted us through those (stinking hot) summer nights only to disappear when the first string returned?

Those of us who study the TV Guide closely each week (ie. who have no lives) are able to track down some of these shows. Eli Stone (promoted obscenely over summer) now features at 10.30pm on a Tuesday. Women’s Murder Club can be found on a Friday night at 10.30pm. As for Army Wives, it is now on twice a week at the witching hour (favoured only by insomniacs and University students) of 12.30am.

So I say, “What about a duty of care Mr TV Executives (assuming they are – in the majority – all male… after all, how else do they justify the number of motor racing events we are subjected to on weekends)?”

Are they sadists? They dole out the opiate, addict us, and then cut us off cold-turkey without any consideration to the angst it can cause.

I mean, does (the chick whose name I don’t remember) track down the ex-lover who is her true love, as foretold by the clairvoyant in the Ex-Files? Whatever happened to Geena Davis’ Commander and Chief? And, if I couldn’t ‘google’, how would I know if Gossip Girl's Serena and Blair ever become besties again? I mean, does this torture know no bounds?

Sadly I suspect I have no sway with TV Execs or those who decide what we watch on television and when. I am but one voice, in a sea of others (who apparently watch cricket, A Current Affair and morning television). Instead I will remain comforted by the return of House and Dexter, but I refuse to be sucked in again. Next summer I will boycott television completely. No way am I going to be tempted by TV-offerings of some yet-to-be-made show, only to be forced into mourning its demise two months later.

Breaking up…

Is hard to do – or so the song goes. But what if you aren’t breaking up with a lover? What if you have to break up with someone else. Someone for whom you feel some sort of commitment or loyalty. Is that any different? Or is it any easier?

These are questions I am pondering, because I need to break up with someone. My hairdresser.

I feel quite a lot of angst about this because my hairdresser, Susan*, has been with me for a while now.

Don’t get me wrong though… I am no stranger to playing the field. I am no lilly-livered innocent. I have strayed before.

Several years ago, Susan and her husband moved away, and I loyally remained at the salon for a while before tiring of the constant turnover of staff. Fortunately for me at the time, her absence meant I didn’t feel traitorous when I moved to a handier trendy inner-city salon. Priced similarly to the old place, it came with a lot of bonuses – fabulous robes, great food, alcohol and a few minor celebrities. However, it was almost impossible to get into – even weeks in advance – and I have to admit, I didn’t feel sufficiently important enough to be remembered from visit to visit and often felt like I was supposed to be grateful to be allowed to even set foot in the door.

So, I decided I would find somewhere closer to my home and less expensive. There were a few hits and misses before I found a great place nearby that cost about half that of the earlier hairdressers.

I went there for almost two years. It was fairly small, but I appreciated the price and proximity. I ended up pretty much sticking to one hairdresser, who was good, though every time I left the salon he styled my hair in some frumpy middle-aged type bob. Despite my pleading each time, he kept doing it. Finally, on what became my last visit, I sat there and realised that he was pretty much just humouring me – feigning interest in my life. I know that for him it was just a job but I realised that he was actually the sort of guy who wasn’t terribly interested in what anyone else wanted or thought.

In the meantime I had received a letter and text message from my original hairdresser that my much-beloved Susan had returned. So, I decided that I would as well.

It was wonderful. As I opened the door bright and early that Saturday morning, she greeted me like a long-lost friend. Each time I visit she recalls what I said the previous visit and remembers aspects of my life – as I do hers. Now I am pretty sure she is like that with everyone (and I have in fact seen her in action), but it makes me feel ‘welcomed’ and comfortable with her. With her there, I belong. So what is my dilemma, you may ask?

For more than one year now, my hair has been very short. This means I have to visit the salon every 4-6 weeks and frankly – the hundreds of dollars it costs can sometimes be a bit of a strain and is a bit hard to justify as others tighten their belts. So, despite my feelings of loyalty and devotion to Susan, I need to break up with her. I need to go somewhere else!

I know the options seems obvious. I can: 1) let her know that I am going elsewhere and why (and I am sure she would understand; or 2) just go elsewhere and hope I don’t run into her at some point in the future (and live with the guilt!).

Easy really – cos obviously I would take option 2. But – and herein lies my problem – I don’t actually want to leave her.

The guy I disliked from the nearby (cheaper) place has since gone. I know I someone else there could probably to do as good a job as Susan. But, will I find someone who makes me feel as welcome, as appreciated and as loved.

So, this is what it all boils down to. While there is some loyalty and guilt at stake, I am dazzled by Susan’s effusive greetings and seemingly caring and attentive manner. The big question is – will I choose that sense of belonging, that attention, over my hip-pocket?

* Name changed to protect the innocent