What makes a mother? Is it writing a list for a “big shop” on the back of an envelope? Is it birth? Is it milk? Is it love? Is it cooking dinner at 8.23am to “get it out of the way”? Carrying snacks? Holding a chubby thigh and looking into the eyes of an innocent, unknowing baby as a three-inch needle pierces their skin? Is it having a left shoulder covered in spit? Is it bouncing? The swaying side to side every time you so much as look at a baby? Elasticated waists? Forgetting to brush your teeth? Hips?
On my first Mother’s Day as one, I can tell you; what makes a mother is worrying. It’s logistics. It’s forward planning. It’s the ability to withstand physical pain. It’s leaving your body in order for another to be pushed or plucked from it. It’s love that stops you sleeping. It’s a leaking body and rock hard will. But for a large part, day to day and hour to hour, it’s worry. Read more
