Three weeks ago, I walked into my house to find my parents sitting in the living room couch chatting, as they always do in the evening. My mother calls me over and tells me “Nina just had her baby!” I stood quietly, squinting my eyes to remember who she was talking about.
She sighs impatiently. “You know! Nina, Hisham’s wife!” she exclaims excitedly as I continue wracking my brain trying to recall this person.
Then it dawned upon me.
And the first thing that came out of my mouth was the word “Why?”
My mother’s face changes from excitement to annoyance. “What kind of person hears about the birth of a baby, and says ‘why’ instead of feeling happy?” She says angrily. “That's not how a girl should react”
I subtly roll my eyes and try and look at my dad for moral support. He’s busy catching up on emails. Now...I usually don’t let anything that the older generation says, faze me or bother me, but I decided to get a word in this time.
“Nina, whose wedding we went to nine months ago?” I say in disbelief. “Nina who is only 23 years old and is basically just starting her life?” I continue.
“That’s it” I say dramatically “Her life is over.” My mother’s eyes narrow, as I continue to ask passive aggressive rhetorical questions.
She haughtily replies: “Some girls want to have their kids early, so they can be young mothers. It’s nice being a young mother.” I could sense some fear in her voice. She was worried that I didn’t want children. She was also worried that young Nina managed to ‘snag’ a husband at 23, while I, at 26, am still enjoying long days by the beach, trips away with my girlfriends and a social life in one of the world’s best cities. I am not exactly anywhere near having any children.
“I do want kids mom” I tell her kindly and softly. “I just can’t imagine doing anything like this right now, or in the next five years.” She then goes on to tell me about the biological benefits of having children at a young age, while I go on to tell her about how Nina’s life will never be the same again.
Don’t get me wrong. My mother isn’t one of those women in Jane Austen novels, whose sole purpose in life is to get her daughter married off. She has a career, she is smart, sharp and logical. Additionally, I have complete independence in my life. My parents have encouraged me to think about my career and my travels. They raised a modern woman.
Most of the time, there is peace in our home. A happy family. However, there are small moments, where I think mom forgets who she really is, and her desire for a grandchild, takes over. I then become stuck in hour-long arguments that end with her being ‘not mad, but disappointed’ at me not having my ‘life figured out’.
We live in the year 2017. Women should be able to do as they please with their life. It’s bewildering how so many mothers and so-called ‘aunties’ continue talking to us about finding a husband and having children.
Out of the 80 to 100 years that we are alive, we only get to spend about 25 of those years alone and in peace. After 25 (and for many girls even earlier) the pressure to ‘find love’ begins.
Suddenly you are plunged into a life with a boy, who doesn’t fold his clothes, or put the toilet seat down. You can't just have cereal for dinner, or re-heat day-old mac and cheese anymore, you have to make real food. You have to be a responsible adult. You have to tell them where you're going and who you are out with. You have to live together. All. The. Time.
The later the better, no?
I do look forward to my eventual participation in the institution of marriage, but should I just ignore all the people quietly telling me “Don’t do it ... it’s a trap”?
