Freestyle Fridays: “Motherhood” by Alien Aura’s Blog

Today’s Freestyle Fridays guest post is by  Alienora Taylor of Alien Aura’s Blog: It’ll Blow Your Mind. I am somewhat new to her blog and I love it. She writes about a variety of topics with such eloquence. If you haven’t read her work yet, you won’t be disappointed. I linked to a particularly beautifully written piece that is fresh and raw and sensual. Enjoy!

I did not expect to become a mother.

My thirties inched towards the forties and I watched as two of my younger sisters brought beautiful children – five in all, at that point, between them – into the world. Auntie, I was, and proud of it: loved my four nephews and one niece. But, if I am honest, my feelings about motherhood were ambivalent at best.

I dreaded the mess I was convinced I would make of such an important role: was convinced that I was too screwed-up and neurotic to become a mother – and, as the months and years advanced, I told myself that I was probably borderline infertile anyway.

But, there was always a secret part of me which longed, with total passion, to conceive my own child.

I denied this little voice, the tiny proto-human waiting in the wings of my womb, for years.

But some things are stronger than our minds and moods, are they not?

Did I mean to get pregnant?

Yes. At some level, I think it was intentional.

It was Valentine’s Day 1997 – and my partner and I had sex. I lied, said it was a safe time – and, drunk, we did not use any protection.

I was thirty-nine years and two months old.

I did not wish to trap this man, but there were insecurities at play in the relationship.

I knew almost immediately that I had conceived: it felt as if a trap door slammed shut inside me – and, of course, there were other, more conventional signs: lack of period, sore breasts and intense weepiness.

At the clinic, three weeks later, I tested positive. Of course I did. I was never in any doubt that I would.

I knew that the child I carried was a boy well before that fact was confirmed via scan; I also knew that he was here to stay – that he would not escape before his time or be lost in a great rush of blood.

He arrived, this perfect tiny being, at 10.32pm on Tuesday 11th November 1997 – and I loved him straightaway.  I would have fought dragons and moved mountains for him. I would have protected him by giving up my own life had it come to that particular crunch.

It has not always been easy – for any of us. For reasons which are not relevant to this post, I had to go back to my full time job as a teacher when my child was three months old.

I have NEVER forgotten the heartbreak of that drive, taking my baby to a childminder for the first time, my breasts leaking the milk I should have been feeding him into inadequate pads all day, as I tried to teach adolescents about Shakespeare without bursting into sobs. The physical longing for that tiny scrap of humanity was so intense – and, when I picked him up at the end of the day, I just fell upon him, inhaling his milky head smell, his baby perfumes.

For financial reasons, I had to work full time until two years ago. I then took early retirement.

This has meant that I have never been able to take my little one to school or pick him up; it has meant (because my husband worked as well) that our boy needed to go to a childminder before and after school until he went to secondary school.

But, weekends, when he was two, he and I started to go to car boot sales in the local area, and stopped at cafes afterwards. This was a great bonding experience. We even had our own car boot song which we used to sing lustily on every journey.

As I say, it has not always been easy. Because we are older parents, the boy has suffered more than his fair share of bereavements, family illnesses and, in my case, breakdowns and anxiety/depression.

He is now sixteen – and has already been to more funerals than I had when I was in my mid-thirties.

But, he is a wonderful boy. He is able to assert himself when he needs to – but is a gentle soul at heart, and very perceptive, empathic. He is extremely good-looking – and talented: musical, a gifted writer, en excellent fencer and possessed of a fabulously dry wit.

He is moving fast into independence – as he should be – and I am having to learn to let go, to reel the umbilical cord back in, to give him his space.

But he is, and always will be, my dowd/doude – the gift from the Creator to my middle years.

And I shall always love him.

Alienora Taylor

Thank you Alienora for this beautiful tribute to a mother’s love.

If you would like to guest post, message me! Have a wonderful Friday!

17 thoughts on “Freestyle Fridays: “Motherhood” by Alien Aura’s Blog

  1. Thank you for your lovely comment, runningafterale; this post came from the heart and the soul – and expresses the love I have for my precious son. x

  2. Thank you very much, Kerry, for giving me the opportunity to guest on your blog. I hope you will be my guest very soon! x

  3. I have an aunt who had his son when she was in her 40’s and they both had a strained relationship. I wondered if it’s because of the age gap and my aunt is a little on the old school type. But it sounds like that’s not the casr with you and your son and that’s wonderful! Thanks for sharing!

    • Know what you mean, Kate: my youngest sister had her first two when she was in her teens! So my family has seen both ends of the spectrum!

      • I absolutely agree, Kate. There is no right age to have a child – and some children are just meant to be here! x

  4. Thanks, Kerry. And thanks Alienora! Lovely, lovely, lovely. I think I’ve found another kindred spirit. Peace and best, John

  5. Lovely writing, lovely shining smile in your selfie, and what a great story of love for your child. What a lucky boy, to have your full attention, all your love. Only children have a special bond to their parents. I had my third in my early 40’s and it was no picnic physically, carrying and birthing that late in life. Thanks for sharing your story and your smile. Cheers, Brenda

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s