When I was a little girl…

I wanted to be happy. I didn’t want to be a doctor, lawyer, nurse, mummy or anything specific. Just happy.

When I was in my early twenties…

I wanted to NOT have my own children and therefore add to the over-population of the world. I wanted to focus on my career, continue to spend my life living in countries other than Australia, contribute to help make the world a better place, find a kind and funny partner to love and then possibly adopt an unwanted child from a third-world country.

When I was in my late twenties….

I wanted to make my marriage the best marriage that had ever existed. I wanted to have babies and continue contributing my skills to those less fortunate than me. I felt blessed and almost guilty for being so happy.

When I was in my early thirties….

I desperately wanted to fall pregnant. I suffered miscarriage after miscarriage and felt that I had failed at the one thing that I was supposed to be able to do easily.

I wanted to fulfill my husband’s greatest wish as well. He SO wanted to be a father, and my failure to do that easily (yes, medical tests proved that it was all my fault, not his) became a fissure in our relationship.

When I was in my early to mid-thirties….

I wanted to die. I had failed at everything. I failed at being a wife. I was a hopeless mother. I was unable to work. I was convinced that I had had my run of happiness early on, and had nothing but sadness and difficulty in my future. And then…

I thought I was going to die. My cancer diagnosis threw me into a dread that I would leave my boys when they were too young to remember me at all. I wanted to shake their father into changing his priorities and becoming more involved in his sons’ lives. I wanted to live.

When I was in my late thirties….

I wanted my boys to know happiness. And I created a world for them which I hoped would allow them to develop self-esteem and confidence and a knowledge that they are loved. But I was very sad.

Now I am in my early forties…..

I want to be happy. Truly, deeply content. Without concern for the actions of their father. Without a stinging sense of injustice for the experiences I have had with him, with family court, with child support. Without a partner. Without depending on having financial security, but hopefully with a career that can support us without ongoing financial stress..

I want my boys to know that they are enough.