I’ve been a mother most of my adult life. The oldest friends I have have never known me without children. The thing is I don’t remember if I ever dreamt of being a mother but I certainly considered it a natural stepping stone in life.
I was in a long term relationship when I had my first at 24. We made an active choice to have my eldest, who is 13, in part because that’s what we saw around us and thought it was a natural step in our journey. We’d been together years and so it made sense.
We lived in a small Northern town which I moved to from London in order to go to university. And he was from a large, family oriented environment.
A few years after the baby was born, I’d lost who I was, our relationship ended and we both moved to London – separately – spending over the next decade or so co-parenting. For the most part it’s been pretty amicable though not without its challenges. We defy most stereotypes which I’m proud of.
May 2020 I became a mother again. This time a cousin had died leaving her newborn. My son was 12 and had had a great life. I knew I could do it again. Plus that’s what you do for family though I’ve been told repeatedly people really wouldn’t. I realise now I had always talked about adopting but was never sure how it would come about, if ever.
With the agreement of my own mum and the baby’s dad who knew his baby needed solid female figures in his life, I inherited a bonus son who was around 8 months old.
So here I am 37, with two children, co-parenting with both their dads and running a thriving business. And we jumped straight into it. No real maternity leave. A baptism of fire yet again into sleepless nights, nappy changes and all that comes with it. I always joke “all of the responsibility, none of the fun of making him.”
I was lucky that my mum already lived with me and, to be honest, no matter how big and capable I am, I don’t know if I could do it without her.
We’re not totally alone. My eldest’s dad is invested in this new little one and we’ve essentially become a blended family with my youngest and his dad.
I have to be honest and say I knew it would be hard but didn’t anticipate the levels. Sometimes I do kick myself as my eldest is supremely self-sufficient – like he was practically out the door – so to start again from the very beginning with potty training and chicken pox to inevitably come fills me with some dread.
But I knew I, and ultimately we, could do it. I knew we had to.
Making the decision to become a mother again did come with some acceptance that the outside world who didn’t know our story would pass judgement about me. The narrative always assigns blame with a Black woman if you see her with multiple kids and no partner. She is considered to have ‘baggage’. I always thought it quite an arrogant stance to have as there’s an automatic assumption that a woman with children is looking for Mr Right. It never occurs to the man in question that they’re Mr Once Every Two Weeks and you have zero interest in them meeting your children. There’s been no one I’ve met who I really wanted to meet my eldest, and if they have it’s typically because the person I’m seeing has complained about it. (Sorry…)
I knew it would have implications for the relationship I had with my son – my biggest fear – but I trusted that his Dad was a stable, consistent force for love in his life so he would have a place of sanctuary. I also understood I may lose him to that dynamic, and something I hoped didn’t forever cement our relationship.
I also had to accept there would be implications for my business. Having had clients breach boundaries and blaming my being a parent, I was blessed to have had that experience first time round so I was prepared for how I would have to operate. As a dear friend said to me “We can never have our kids around when there’s a meeting because it’s unprofessional.”, another layer of consciousness we have to take on when navigating the work place. And I haven’t always won at that. Some days I have to introduce my “assistant” for the meeting – though I’m circumspect about who that happens with – or I manage to get him down for a nap in time, arriving at my virtual meeting mentally ready to go, proud I’d ‘made it’.
I’ve never worried too much about marriage as I felt I had achieved a greater purpose in becoming a mother but the transition from one to two has made me wish there was someone else alongside me. If for nothing more than the companionship and a place to escape to when it all gets much. That would be their primary purpose rather than to step in as a father figure as they already have dads who play active, regular parts in their lives.
But I have to be honest and say there are moments it can be hard. Even as I write this – with a lot of trepidation – I am physically exhausted from all that comes with being an entrepreneur with a great business preparing to scale because motherhood made me hungrier for success and never dulled my desire to do and be more.
Transitioning from one to two particularly as I am older has not been easy but I know it will undoubtedly get easier. Where I need to be is to become that compassionate companion to myself. I’ll be using my new status to make double the effort to have massage days. To take quarterly weekend breaks. To find even the little things that give me joy.
I’m not going to lie: I haven’t done the best job of making all those things happen yet – I’ve never been good at putting myself first – but I hope with all I’m learning I will.
