I’m on the precipice of turning 40 and feel that my grace period of delaying childbirth may be coming to an end. Don’t get me wrong, I love kids and have always pictured having them, that was never a question. I just got here so much faster than I could have imagined. I’m gonna say the thing that so many of you have thought but haven’t wanted to say for fear of sounding selfish or insensitive…I’m scared.
I swear to God, I was 15yrs old a few weeks ago, looking out the window in my parents’ house, dreaming bigger dreams for my life than you could ever imagine. And nearly all of them centred around my creative pursuits. I dreamt of singing on the world’s biggest stages, creating beautiful music, meeting new people, travelling the world, having mind-blowing sex like all those highlighted pages in my Danielle Steel books, and kissing in the rain like Gwyneth Paltrow and Ethan Hawke in Great Expectations.
I always knew I’d have kids with the love of my life one day, I just never spent time lying on my bed daydreaming about it.
For so long I was a child under the rule of my parents and teachers. Then I went into controlling relationships with older men who thought part of loving me was dictating my do’s and don’ts. The last few years have been magical, but my freedom was slightly hindered by the massive debt I was working 3 jobs to pay off. For the first time in my adult life; I’m debt free, I’m in a relationship that perfectly combines support & freedom, and I’ve rekindled lifelong friendships that set my soul ablaze. My mind is old enough to make good choices, my legs are young enough to cut some serious dance moves (anyone catch us at Marly Bar last Saturday?) and I have a voice that speaks my mind the way I always wanted her to (my greatest achievement to date). Without a doubt, I am living my absolute best life, and I just know that in years to come, my mind will revisit these days with much gratitude and nostalgia.
I’m so excited for my next chapter, but I feel something in my chest that I’ve felt before, in darker times. It’s grief.
To be able to embark on any new chapter: a new relationship, a new job, a new home, there had to have been a closing of an old chapter. It is in no way disrespectful to your new chapter to feel sadness and grief as you bid a fond farewell to something that was part of you for so long.
I’ve been Steph for nearly forty years. I wake up and think of my needs first. I meditate, I do yoga, I drink my juice, I put on a vlog and get ready, I go to the gym, I login to work, I go for an infrared sauna, I curl up on my bed and read a book. Perhaps not much of this will change when I become a Mum or perhaps most of it will. For a while, my needs will take a backseat. And as rewarding as I know in my gut motherhood will be, that concept is fucking terrifying.
For so many years, I lived a shit life. I felt really bad about myself, I had severe depression and many times contemplated ending a life that caused me so much pain. It was through sheer grit of working on myself and my needs that I clawed my way into an existence full of joy and purpose.
This is a hard thing to talk about because there are so many wonderful mums-in-waiting who have been struggling with infertility and miscarriages. I’ve had to be very careful who I’ve shared my fears with, to not be insensitive and cause them further pain. But I want you to remember that the severity of someone else’s struggles does not shrink yours. Your story is your story. Your feelings are always valid.
I know in my gut that I’ll be a great Mum. I adore my nephews and my niece like nobody’s business, but I’m really scared for the baby stuff. I never had babies around me and I have no freaking clue what I’m doing. I just wanna take a long nap after conception and wake up to a 4yr old who comes home from pre-school and tells me funny shit about their day. The stage where I can sleep through the night without toothless screams, where no one will shit on me and where I can be back in the gym every day.
I recently shared these fears with some close friends and how I’m frantically trying to fit in all the fun stuff before kids come along (singing gigs, nights out with friends, travel) and the husband of one of my besties said “Um, it’s not like you’re dying”. I literally heard my voice in my head reply “Isn’t it though?” All well and good for you Dads to say, your tits won’t be pointing to your shoes, your insides won’t be stretched open and you won’t have hormones forcing you to shed buckets of tears. When you travel for work, you won’t have keyboard warriors mum-shaming you.
I know, you parents out there think I’m being a dramatic bitch, but the truth is, Single Steph is dying, and this is her fucking eulogy OK, so sit down and pay your last respects. It’s been a hell of a ride.
Slight diversion approaching but stick with it, I have a relatable point…
I’m a HUGE tennis fan, and watching Roger, Raffa and Serena has been an absolute privilege. Do you know what really fucking irks me? When they’re winning streak starts to taper off as fresh blood comes in (after 15 years of absolute dominance) and these losers on their couch start saying; “oh just retire”, “just let go already”. You know when they’ll let go? When they’re good and ready to let go. On their terms. When I see an elite athlete having to bow out not because they want to, but because their body is forcing them to, it absolutely breaks my heart. For so many years I cared about nothing but achieving greatness in my creative field. I had horse blinkers on. I find it so incredibly sexy and inspiring when someone gives their craft their absolute all and can only imagine that having to step away from a life that is literally all you’ve ever known, must be excruciating. That, my friends, is grief.
I feel like I grew up in a time where I was told who to be and how to act. My aim is to take a different tack. I’m so excited to meet my kids to watch them flourish. I hope I make them feel loved and supported but I pray to God I never make them feel judged or suffocated. I hope I can give them good advice when they need it and shut my mouth when all they want is to feel heard. I hope we share experiences together and I pray they never feel the need to screen my calls. I hope they love themselves more than they ever love another and make good choices not because I tell them to, but because they know they’re worthy of that. And most importantly, I hope I don’t fuck them up.
To all my girls out there reading this and feeling seen. Please know, you’re not alone. I share your fears. And your feelings are always, always valid.
And to my future kids, don’t be offended by this, you don’t exist yet. I’m sure I’ll take it all back, as long as your first word isn’t Dad.
Now wish me luck as I embark on a 4 week adventure through Morocco, France and Italy. Overshare time: I’m ovulating in Paris so it’s possible I may not see as many museums as I would like…
