And Now We Have Everything: On Motherhood Before I Was Ready

by Meaghan O'Connell

Sometimes it felt like I spent my whole life trying to tell the difference between fear and circumspection. I was always trying not to want things.

A willing suspension of disbelief seems to be required.

That was what I always imagined to be the worst pain: having a limb chopped off. I saved ten for that, out of respect.

This was really hard at first, as anything spine-related, in my book, should be.

Finally someone was concerned with justice.

They wanted everything all set up and covered up and hidden before he came in. Must be nice, I thought, but also: Why spare him?

They whispered so that I wouldn’t hear. What were they whispering? She’s bleeding out, what should we do? I don’t know, but look at this gigantic tumor here. Wow, is this woman fat. I mean, I know she’s pregnant, but still.

We were in the middle of what felt like an ongoing emergency. Like someone was playing a practical joke on us. Endure the car crash of childbirth, then, without sleeping, use your broken body to keep your tiny, fragile, precious, heartbreaking, mortal child alive.

Imagine, this was how everyone came into the world. It seemed so extreme. I

The pump looked just like I’d imagined, like something you’d use to masturbate a farm animal.

I couldn’t figure out whether motherhood was showing me how strong I was or how weak. And which one was preferable.

I knew it was all internalized misogyny and guilt and bad public policy but I still couldn’t really get around it.

I just wanted a baby, I thought. I don’t want to be a mother.

I tried playing out the worst-case scenario in my mind, hoping that confronting it would sap some of its power (nope).

What if I couldn’t be trusted? What’s neurosis and what’s maternal instinct?

Think about other things. Stop thinking about all the bad things that could happen. Not because they can’t happen but because it’s the only way to calm down.

He was vulnerable but resilient. Human. Wasn’t that the problem, in the end? He was going to walk around in the world where there were a million different ways to die. One day something would kill him. And I loved him too much for that. And yet. What else is there to say?

If only I had the sort of spiritual stamina to stay in profundity longer, to not find it oppressive after ten minutes.