Yes, we all have mothers, but my mother was well, unique. A few years, she wrote this poem about how she never wanted children and dedicated it to me. I know that may sound, well, un-motherly, but I think she captured something important at a time when women were only expected to be wives and mothers.
It is one of the reasons I love and respect her even more.
For Carl
I never liked children
I thought they were annoying
Eating at a restaurant became annoying Carl Kurlander
when a child with a dirty faced and stained hands
beat a drum with his spoon on the high chair
at the next table.
Having pictures shoved at you of little tykes in various poses was very annoying. Oohing and aching when you could care less.
I was married three years and never wanted children
It was major annoying when well-meaning relatives said “Is something cooking in the oven?”
That was very annoying….
Finally, though we gave into the pressure and I was with child although it was annoying to admit I was like any other pregnant woman so I stayed as thin as possible.
Although in the ninth month I popped out and on one rainy day, picking my way carefully in high heels, slowly on the slick sidewalk, was annoyed that my boss questioned me about arriving late.
I shook my umbrella at him and said, “Can’t you see it’s raining and I’m carrying a baby.” He shrunk away. You don’t mess with a pregnant woman, especially in her ninth month.
The next morning, early on, I got up and after two steps, water poured down my legs, gushing all over the floor and on the new rug. It was annoying. It wouldn’t stop.
My young husband, the doctor, ran circles around me, not knowing what to do. He was nervous. It was annoying.
Somehow he managed to get me to the hospital which was across the street and I arrived in a soaking wet maternity dress. He was too hysterical by now to let me change. It was annoying.
The baby was three weeks early and in no hurry to arrive. I was in labor for 17 hours. That was annoying.
When the baby was born finally I was sleepy and groggy and when they placed him in my arms, I was exhausted. And his dad was more interested in him than me. It was annoying.
Later that evening when I awoke, I saw them bringing the baby for me “Where’s my baby boy, I asked?” The nurse was too busy to answer at rst. I was annoyed.
Finally, “your baby is up in the special unit. He’s having respiratory problems.” “Respiratory problems, what do you mean?”
“He’s having trouble breathing….”
“My baby’s sick…”
“It’s just a small problem.”
Carl Kurlander
“A small problem….” It wasn’t too small to me. How annoying.
Suddenly something came over me.
A feeling of terror. An all engulfing feeling. My baby is sick. I could lose him.
I wanted desperately to hold him. Feelings flooded over me, around me.
There was only one thing I could think of.
My son. My child. The most beloved thing in the world. Then I discovered what love was.
I became a mother.
— Jeanne Ruth Cohen Kurlander Wechsler
