Margaret admits she never wanted children. In truth, she never even liked them. She married at 20 and had a child at 30. But why?
She isnt quite sure herself. Thats just what people did in those days. Her mother drilled it into her: “No one expects you to have a brood, but you must have at least one. Otherwise, the family isnt complete. Everyone has a child, and so should you. After that, you can live as you pleaseno one will pester you.
Throughout the years of her marriage, everyone chattered on about Margarets supposed path to motherhood, as if it were a rite she simply had to fulfil. The poor woman felt besieged by their words, almost bullied into submission.
She often heard people saying that children were the flowers of life. Nobody could make sense of her hesitation and pressured her to take the leap. Some even warned shed regret her decision in old age, mourning what she never had.
Eventually, Margaret relented and had her son. Yet the overwhelming love everyone promised her never came. No miracle occurred; she remained indifferent to her child. The chubby-faced baby didnt stir her heart, nor did the little boy brandishing a huge bouquet after his first day at primary school. Even when he grew into a successful young man, Margarets feelings remained unchanged. She tried desperately to awaken her maternal instinct, searching for answers, but nothing seemed to work.
She often distanced herself from her son. She found solace in her work, throwing herself into the least pleasing jobs. Whenever she could, she escaped to the kitchen to cook or busy herself cleaning the flat, anything to avoid spending time with her boy.
One of my friends would send her daughter to her grans for the summer and always complained about how much she missed her. Shed say her house felt so empty, she could hardly bear it. I always struggled to understand that. How could you miss your child? Personally, Id feel relief. I only wished I could send my son somewhere, Margaret recalls with a hint of sadness.
Still, it must be said, Margaret was a responsible mother. She never blamed her son for her own reluctance, recognising he wasnt at fault for her giving in to others. Shed brought him into the world, so it was her duty to raise and educate him. She did her best, reading stories to him, playing games, talking, and taking him to funfairs, zoosdoing all she could to give him a normal, happy childhood. She dealt with his worries, knew who his friends were, and ensured he had as ordinary a life as possible.
When her son turned twelve, Margaret divorced his father. She continued to bring him up on her own while her ex-husband, though not much involved, sent some money for support now and then. Luckily, her son proved clever, polite, and independentshe never had trouble with him.
Margaret paved the way for him to study well and later helped him secure work at a respected firm. She even helped him pay part of the mortgage.
Thats when I realised I was free. My son was grown, stood on his own feet. He needed nothing from me anymore! For the first time, I could live for myselfsomething Id secretly longed for, she says, smiling quietly.
Her son, now 28, is married with two young children. Her daughter-in-law cant quite believe how distant Margaret is from her own family. Margaret doesnt ring and doesnt enquire after the grandchildrennor does she wish to visit. The truth is, having no contact suits her just fine.
Margaret reflects, Its odd how my daughter-in-law tries to twist my arm. She says if I dont do as she wants, she wont let me see my grandchildren. I wonder if she realises that isnt a punishment to meI dont want to see them. Ill do whats right for me. When she finally sees I really am indifferent, that contact means little to me, shell stop trying. The only time we see each other is at Christmas or Easter, and mostly Ive no desire to.
By now, Margaret has found ways to rationalise the distance. She says her son doesnt call because things are going wellif ever he had trouble, hed let her know immediately. Truthfully, he devotes himself to his work these days, and Margaret doesnt wait for his calls.
They live separate lives now. Margaret has a dog called Alfie and keeps a small vegetable patch. Her days are full; she doesnt dwell on her son. Whos to say if she was a good mother or a bad one? After all, her son turned out well and landed a decent job thanks to her steady hand.
Sometimes, life doesnt unfold in predictable ways or fit the mould people expect. Not everyone finds fulfilment in the same places, but the most important thing is to act with honestytoward others and oneself. Instead of living to meet the expectations of others, its kinder to acknowledge your own truth, and recognise that love and duty dont always wear the same faces.
