I Never Took to Motherhood Quickly

I never took to motherhood quickly. Even as a teen, I remember being handed the cutest baby I’d ever seen… and still, I wasn’t interested in the slightest. I wasn’t the “natural nurturer.” The one who cooed at prams or dreamed of baby names. It just wasn’t me.

Then something changed. I moved to Australia from South Africa and found myself needing work. The perfect opportunity opened up — aged care or childcare. Naturally, given my deep, lifelong love of children (read: mild panic at the thought of sticky fingers), I chose childcare.

Surprisingly, I learned to love it. I fell in love with the play, the joy of creating secure attachments, the imaginative nature of the job. The funny conversations. The challenge of building early mathematical and literacy skills — which I adored as a massive fan of books. I studied early childhood and primary teaching, taught kindy, and found real fulfilment in helping little ones get ready for school.

I loved building relationships with kids and families. But I have to say, even in all my years in childcare, I never truly understood what it meant to be a parent. I cringe now thinking about how quickly I judged a forgotten jumper or no spare clothes in a backpack. I get it now. We are human. We are not always competent. We are sometimes clinging on by a thread.

When I moved into primary teaching, I thrived in the classroom. I had time. I had control. I had the space to pour myself into creating the most meticulous classroom environment. I was proud of it. But then… life happened.

We lost our first baby. It hit me like a ton of bricks. But loss two — that broke me. It sent my mind into a spiral. Maybe we’re not meant to have kids? Couldn’t we just be happy without them? We had freedom. Friends. Spontaneity. We lived in Fortitude Valley — a baby didn’t exactly fit into that lifestyle. I couldn’t sit still. I needed adventure. I needed something exciting. But isn’t that exactly what the city teaches you to crave?

Eventually, a change of location brought a change of heart. A house that looked like a home. A life that could hold something… more. And then, our rainbow baby. A girl. A healthy girl. Everything I’d dreamed of as a Barbie-loving girly girl myself.

Having worked non-stop for as long as I could remember, maternity leave felt like a dream I never knew I wanted. Excuse me — I get to hang out with my baby at home? Go to yoga at 9am? Have coffee with my new mum friends mid-morning, in activewear, with babies babbling beside us?

There are hard days, of course. Sleepless nights, unexpected tears, and moments of absolute chaos. But motherhood — the real, messy, tender, terrifying version — finally made sense to me. It didn’t come naturally. It came in layers. It came with loss. It came with growth. But it came.

And I’m so glad it did.