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The Joy of Motherhood

If I had not had a child when I did, I'd currently probably be confined to an uncomfortable bed, strapped into a white body suit and giggling at my own reflection.

I had my daughter, an only child, when I was 34 years. By 34 not only had I heard my body clock tick-tock ... I had actually heard it GONG! Every morning, every night it would gong like a huge, Oriental copper instrument (the kind we see in old Jackie Chan movies). The gong, felt in the base of my stomach, would make me weep with anger and confusion. I could never figure out why at 30 Something' I had not given birth to my fourth child, let alone my first. I come from a family of five, so I had always known I would have at least two girls, two boys (the substance of my teenage dreams). Yet there I was manless and childless, while my friends were having their fourth or fifth child.

Yes, that's right; I HAD TO HAVE A CHILD! I felt incomplete without one. I am not ashamed to admit it, I really do think I would have experienced more than my fare share of time in a secluded, heavily guarded "facility" if I had not given birth when I did. It was not that I felt societal pressure; it was my own inner voice that kept me awake at night wondering why I was not married, why I did not have a child, why the men I dated did not want a commitment with me. So on and so forth.

I remember one summer in particular when I traveled to New Jersey to visit a friend who had just had her fourth child. All throughout the baby shower, I showered in tears. I tried hard to conceal my envy by making mad, sporadic dashes to the bathroom and in so doing feigning a weak stomach. But the satin white slippers with delicate pink, lace ribbons pulled at my heart strings. The bright butterfly mobiles that would frame her child's cot made me want to flee. The ornate silver photo frames with angle figurines etched into smooth, round corners, made me want to fall on my knees in prayer.

So that's exactly what I did. That night and for every proceeding night for two straight years, I prayed that God would grant me my wish. I wanted a child. So I prayed to God to give me ONE. See, you have to understand it was not that I was settling for less than the four children of my youthful dreams. It was just a fact of life. If I was lucky enough to find someone who would stick around long enough to marry me and help me conceive, then, in all probability, I believed I only had enough time to give birth to one child (or so I told myself).

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