I love my children deeply but I must confess that if I went back I would choose not to be a mother
And I still remember it, that heartbeat comparable to nothing else in the world, that tightness in the stomach and that pain mixed with the happiness of seeing and holding my children in my hands for the first time. Because I, my children, I really wanted them, I wanted and loved them from the first moment I felt them growing inside of me.
But I have to admit it and not with little difficulty: if I went back I would not do it again, I would not choose to become a mother. Does that make me a bad person? A mother not worthy of being called such? In the opinion of the society in which we all live yes, I should be ashamed for having thought, even for a moment, that without children my life would be better.
But the truth is this thought has not touched my mind only once or twice, I am firmly convinced that I am not brought to be a mom and if I go back, my choices would certainly be different. Mind you, I love my children deeply and immensely and it couldn't be otherwise, they are a part of me.
And with them, I must admit, I spent some wonderful years, perhaps the most wonderful, authentic and intense moments of my entire life. And if as a mother, day after day, I always felt a little more proud of everything I did, as a woman I was disappearing, almost completely.
Over time things have not improved and to be with my children I gave up on small and big things: my career, aperitifs with friends, my favorite books, my passions, time for me. Now you will think, how can love for children be compared to these things? I understand that in your minds lies the germ of judgment, unquestionable and fiscal, and I do not blame you for it, but I assure you that nothing in the world can be worse than losing your essence as a woman. At least that was it for me.
And becoming a mother, I lost her. I am not the only one, I am aware of it: we all make sacrifices and give up something, many things, for the sake of our children, but I cannot deny you that this weighs on me more than anything else in the world.
So I did it, I took some time for myself, asking for the support of my partner, and that of my children to do what I always wanted to do. Dedicate myself to that photography course, resume my studies and why not, even go out with friends.
But the truth is that despite the apparent understanding of those who have always been around me, I couldn't help but notice those looks of disappointment and those veiled criticisms behind the usual digs. To everyone else I am an ungrateful, indecent mother, terrible for having confessed that I don't feel happy just because I am in this role.
Repenting motherhood today is still a taboo, because I'm sure I'm not the only one, I'm sure that many mothers are exactly in my situation. And I would like a little understanding to replace this fierce judgment.
Because never in life could I harm the well-being of my children, I could never harm them or put their happiness in the background. But I admit, I am tired and also sad because I have given up so many things over the years and I cannot deny that if I went back, I would choose not to be a mother.