My desire to have children was inspired by the women of my childhood. Their memory stays with me and beckons me again: I picture them fussing over the children, always doing their best. Enthusiasm permeated every gesture. Something fulfilled them. I watched, spied on them. They fascinated me: I wanted to be like them. So I learned to sew, iron, set the table, change diapers, and peel potatoes. I thought that herein lay their secret. Without knowing how, or why, I wanted to be a mother. But was motherhood only this?
Denise, Montréal, Québec
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I’ve been on my own now for tive months. I’m 27 yeras old. My relationships with men never work out for more than two yeras. I don’t know if I will have children. I’m afraid I’m too self centred, that I won’t be able to give to a child. I’m used to being alone.
I love kids. I have a little two year old nephew. I’m crazy about him. But at the end of a day with him, I’m exhausted, so I take him back to his mother.
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Why do we raise children? To have someone to love, and to be loved. We want so much for our children and our grandchildren, and as much for others, too. The choice to give birth is important, and consciously make the choice is even more so.
Marie-Claude, St-Côme (Québec)