First I want to say that I feel much admiration for all the posters here for their honesty. I've read through the posts and feel very moved by the stories and struggles. I'm 45 (in November) and have never had children for various reasons. I've sometimes wondered if I should have gone ahead and had a child. From about 38 to about a year ago, I really tried to find a nice guy who I could have kids with, but I was never convinced by the men I dated that they'd be supportive enough, and I didn't want to be a single Mum - not for any moral reason - just because I didn't think I could handle it without the right support!
Reading these posts makes me feel less of a freak because I too don't have much of a maternal instinct.
One thing I've always thought, is that maybe it's not natural for a Mother to be isolated and by herself with her baby. When I look at so called 'primitive' societies, the women seem to all hang out together sharing the responsibility collectively, and the babies and children know they can find support from women other than their own Mum. This must make it possible for Mums in this situation to have 'off' days, or weeks, or months even! It's like our society has overly sentimentalised the whole baby making thing. There's a hypocrisy at work here though, because if as a society we really were committed to bringing up children, there'd be more breaks for working Dads and more free support for women (work creches etc)
I agree with the posters who feel that although having babies has turned out to be un-fulfilling, they know they have to make the best of the situation, but there's so much brilliant advice here about how to make that bearable. Having suffered bouts of depression, my heart goes out to Mums here who are going through that exhausting and draining time when it feels like nothing will get better and something has been 'taken' from you
Here's a few lines from DH Lawrence's 'Shadows' written when he was suffering from incurable TB - (substitute 'man' for 'women'!)
'And if, in the changing phases of man?s life
I fall in sickness and in misery
my wrists seem broken and my heart seems dead
and strength is gone, and my life
is only the leavings of a life:
and still, among it all, snatches of lovely oblivion, and snatches of renewal
odd, wintry flowers upon the withered stem, yet new, strange flowers
such as my life has not brought forth before, new blossoms of me
then I must know that still
I am in the hands of the unknown God,
he is breaking me down to his own oblivion
to send me forth on a new morning, a new man'