MUSING ON MOTHERHOOD

I never really prepared for motherhood. Didn't read any books before hand, read none during or even after. It could have been plain ignorance, self belief that we would do it...or that I was just young. Whatever the case, there I was, four weeks before my twenty first birthday with a baby.

I never thought to count his fingers and toes---I think part of me knew someone would tell me if something was wrong. I remember looking down at him, seeing how perfect he was. It felt so surreal...to be holding this small piece of humanity that we had created.

We took him home, placed him in the cane basket on the floor in our room...then wondered what on earth do we do next?

We muddled along, became used to the nappy changes, the feeding, listening for the -I-want-to-be-held cries. At that stage I had two main fears, not to stab him with a nappy pin (and yes both my children had cloth nappies- disposables were for 'special occasions)- and to bathe him without dropping him back in the water. I never knew bath time could be so scary....and babies so slippery.

Two years later his sister came along. We had our pigeon pair. We had thought of having more, but somehow two seemed ideal. They don't out number parents and I had a pair of hands to catch each one. Besides we had moved into our first home, a small cottage and there was no room for more. Two it was.

Motherhood took on a new meaning. I no longer had babies, they were toddlers discovering the world. I still had no 'idea' what I was doing, but we both wanted our children to have the values we grew up with. We also wanted them to experience what we did. We fished and hiked, blackberried (often in the back yard), yabbied in the creek over the road, we went for long country drives and picnicked,  we baked our own cakes and biscuits, handmade as many Christmas and birthday presents as we could.

Before too long they went to school and came to realise I didn't know it all. Their world became larger, and as a mother it was my job to let them go. To be there for them when needed, but to allow them to fall, to scrape that knee. Let them make mistakes. And that is one of the hardest things to do, it still is. To hold your tongue and let them make mistakes.

Now they are adults. Both with great jobs, partners and homes of their own.  And often I am amazed that we have produced such wonderful people. I am so proud of both of them....but as all mothers do, the guilt still niggles.

What could I have done different? Should I have been more loving, more demonstrative, more strict, more understanding, more....

I tried to give my children some of the happiest parts of my own childhood...and perhaps that is all you can do. Do your best, repeat.

Perhaps this sums up motherhood.... photo of my mum Essie,  my grandmother, and her sister Gwen.
The smiles say it all.