Tag: working mother

Will you be having another one?

For years I thought I didn’t want children. The usual stuff – didn’t want to stop partying. Couldn’t imagine having to get up early EVERY FREAKING DAY. Didn’t want to compromise my toned stomach, or my favourite hobbies, or my bank account, or my career, etc, etc… But late in my thirties, having met the right person, I started to think it might be a good idea. With a bit of gentle persuasion from him indoors it happened.

As all mothers will understand, when my daughter was born it was a game changer. That word ‘love’ just doesn’t cut it. She is my world. And, suddenly, I understand why people have kids younger. I can’t regret my decision because, under any other unique set of circumstances, I wouldn’t have my amazing girl, just as she is. But I worry a lot about what it’s going to be like for her having an old mum. When she’s in her teens I will be in my fifties. Will she think I am SO out of touch? Will I still be fit and healthy enough to be useful? And will I ever see her children if she decides to have babies?

I take comfort from the fact that I’m surrounded by women who have children late. I work in telly which is filled with women who prioritise their careers over having children because it’s the best way to get on… or who delay it until their 40s for the same reason (just to be clear, I’m not talking here about women who decide they don’t want kids full stop). That’s what I did. I always suspected that might not be the best thing for me but I ignored that niggling thought as well as I could.

Now that my daughter is 21 months old and I have returned to some semblance of normality I find myself wondering about child number 2 (who knew that when you have a child people don’t ease off on the will you or won’t you questions… they just swap ‘a’ for ‘another’). Now I have my grandma (who I adore) saying things to me like ‘oh don’t have another… I don’t think it’s fair on the children to have ‘old’ parents’. Rationally I know the world is different to when she was young but she’s planted a seed of doubt in my head. If I have another child I will be ‘even older’. I will have two youngsters who have an ‘old’ mum. And another thing – I don’t have long to make my mind up. If I was ten years younger I could take my time deciding but now time is running out.

Will the questions never end….?!

Do I or Don’t I?

Before I had a baby I never appreciated one of the internal battles that you face when you go back to work. I’m not talking about the division between the ‘yay! I’m back at work! I CAN still do my job’ and the ‘oh God. I’m a terrible mother. I can’t believe I’m leaving my amazing toddler with somebody else’ bit of your brain. I’m talking about the weirdness surrounding admitting you’re a mother in the workplace.

In my trade, after the age of 35, women leave in droves. There’s a sort of accepted view that you can’t be a mother AND do my job. But I decided to give it a try and see how it goes because I kind of like my job. I also decided quite quickly that I wouldn’t give in to the pressure to deny the existence of my child because that would make me resentful. Why does having a child mean you’re no longer able to do your job well? Ok, I may not be able to automatically work illegal hours anymore but I’m a hell of a lot more efficient than I used to be. Anyway, I’ll illustrate the internal battle using a conversation I had with a guy who I think might be a bit of a wanker…

I met him for the first time at a work brainstorm. He asked me what I’d been up to and I said I’d just returned from maternity leave after having a daughter. He asked me how old she was and I told him – 14.5 months. He then looked me in the eye and waited. There was an awkward silence during which time I thought, ‘errr… say something then. I don’t want to tell you anything else about my daughter. We’re at work. I don’t know you. This isn’t baby talk time’. But the silence remained and I finally caved in and filled it with, ‘yeah. She’s great… but I shouldn’t go on’. His response? ‘I’m not really interested to be honest.’ I mean. What a twat. I wasn’t really interested in telling him. He was absolutely not my target audience for tales of my daughter’s brilliance. I wasn’t about to wax lyrical about her latest new words and hilarious personality. His response was like a slap in the face though. It really made me mull over this weird work conundrum. People should feel able to talk about their kids like they’re not dirty little secrets but I’m finding myself almost ashamed when I dare to utter her name. Are all work environments like this or is mine stuck shamefully in the past?