Much ado about motherhood

Having chil­dren was once an ac­cepted fact of life. But today, it can often be a lifestyle decision as with three generations of wom­en share their views on the remarkable shift in social attitudes towards families

Mothers were quite hard when Lamide Akinrinade was growing up. It was wartime and there wasn’t time for softness and indul­gence. But that didn’t make her want or not want chil­dren of her own, because it wasn’t something that even occurred to her to question as nature made it in those days, was automatically accepted that motherhood was just what girls must eventually embrace.

However, after graduat­ing from university, the pressures to get married and have children became much and her mother was ready to give her guidance on how to go about fam­ily life.

“I was in my late teens when I met my husband Wale. I was very innocent and a green horn when it comes to relationship is­sues. After dating for more than four years, we even­tually got married. At the time, for me, marrying meant almost giving up my place as a trainee staff in a bank, which I had to do without question. I was later to find myself trapped and dependent on a man, which I never bargained for.

“Nevertheless, I had two sons with him, Joseph and Babatunde. I tried to stay strong but I almost regret­ted it because it almost wore me down to nothing,” she says.

However, when Lamide realised she was pregnant for the third child with Romoke, she almost went mad with despair, describ­ing herself as a caged tiger because she felt so trapped staying at home without working.

“When I was in labour with Romoke, it was my darkest moment. In be­tween contractions, I felt I was sinking down into an abyss. But when they put this little beautiful girl on my chest, I suddenly felt all my feelings and fighting spirit come flooding back. And I was happy to nurse a child again,” she recalls with a laugh.

For Lamide, there had been a few moments when motherhood had been fun, particularly when she had to run around the house with her kids. The age dif­ference between them makes it easier for her to raise them without much ado.

“But they were few and far between. It wasn’t until much later that I discov­ered how fun and freeing having your own children could really be. I remember chasing them around the house and making them shriek with laughter,” she says.

While Lamide is angst by motherhood, Racheal Akinlonu, a 42 year-old mother is happy about the joy of motherhood. Rache­al lives in Oniru Private Estate and works as an IT consultant for a telecom­munication firm on Vic­toria Island. She has lived with her partner, Peter for 25 years.

For a long time after marriage, she didn’t realise she never wanted children. She assumed her biological clock would start ticking, but it didn’t. It never did and she can’t imagine that it ever will. It was only af­ter giving birth to her first child that she was able to finally accept that this was as valid as wanting to have children.

“Then, I had the aw­ful task of admitting how I felt to my partner, who did want us to start having children early,” she recalls.

This has been the source of a great deal of unhappi­ness and stress. For a while, I became obsessed by my lack of maternal feelings. I thought there must be something wrong with me.

For her, it’s not a com­mitment issue as she would do anything for her partner but it’s very un­fair on a child to bring it into the world unless it is truly wanted. She believes children should be loved and cherished, and if one doesn’t have the urge to do that it’s not fair to just have one and hope. “You can’t give a child back if it doesn’t work out and I know there’s a huge likeli­hood I might end up re­senting any child I have, and that would be an ap­palling thing because I was building my career.”

But when she got preg­nant with the first child, she was happy and ex­pectant but she couldn’t describe how relieved she felt when her husband told her that if he couldn’t have children with me, he didn’t want children at all. That was the turning point for her.

“I’m confident there are many more people like me than are prepared to admit it, but there’s such a huge taboo in our society about admitting you don’t want children or that you don’t find motherhood an all-consuming joy that we’re very far from being able to have an honest public debate about this issue,” she says.

Ronke Adaranijo has a daughter and she never had a particularly tender relationship with her own mother, but she always had a rose-tinted view of what motherhood had the potential of being.

“I imagined it as some­one being dependable, reliable and always there. The trouble was that I was always so aware of my own insecurities and faults that I never felt I could offer a child that,” she discloses. But this feelings change when she and her friends started having kids and she realised she had to join the train, else she would be left behind.

“From the moment I knew I was pregnant, I felt more content than I’d ever felt in my life. I im­mediately mellowed and I suddenly knew I was ready to be a mum. Telling myself that I was able to be loving and secure was the first time I’d ever been really nice to myself. It was almost like I’d been given a blank canvas to do things right with Vicki that hadn’t been done right for me, through no one’s fault,” she explains.

She later explains that she never thought she could ever have felt this happy and complete with­out having kids. The close­ness, the bond, that sense of joy at every level of her daughter’s achievements gives her joy. She has seen how her daughter has de­veloped into such a won­derful woman and she is amazed. “She makes me want to burst with pride,” she adds.