The motherhood debt: Providing a safety I never owned
People ask why I’m not "glowing". They ask, "How can you not be excited?" as if joy is a default setting I’ve simply forgotten to turn on. But the truth is: I have been an adult since my childhood, and I am simply out of breath now. I grew up grey before my time. In my house, I wasn’t protected; I was the protector. As the designated ‘understanding’ child, I spent my days acting as a mediator, navigating the volatile tantrums of parents who were as emotionally unavailable as they were immature. While other children were allowed to be messy, I was learning to read the air for unpredictability, catching family drama and chaos before it shattered. I didn't grow up; I just moved into a larger skin. Because I spent my childhood parenting my parents, starting a family doesn't feel like a beginning; it feels like the second shift of a job I’ve been doing for ages. The closer I get to my due date, the more I realise I am heading into a future without a blueprint. ...