A bed of one’s own: short notes on co-sleeping.

I lie in bed at night, drifting off and hear the feet approaching, steadily pacing along the landing. Shortly after, a small, hot body climbs over me and takes her place between myself and her father. She wedges herself against me, claiming the pillow as entirely hers. It’s funny how a four year old can take up seventy percent of a super-king sized bed.

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She is four. Or, do you think I don’t love my children because I moan about parenting?

I’ve sometimes wondered if I could write one of those powerful emotional posts I see other bloggers write about their children. Where the love seeps through the page, and the words claw at your heart. Making you remember all the reasons you love being a parent; making you want to eat the chubby thighs of your newborn once again.

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Whether childfree or regretting motherhood, we all deserve the freedom of ambivalence.

I read an article earlier this week about women who regret having children. I’ve also just read an article by a woman who is childfree. The thing that struck me as the common theme in the two pieces was ambivalence. You can be a mother and be unsure of the rightness of your choice, just as you can choose to be child-free and sometimes be uncertain. There are no absolutes on either side – apart from the child itself presented as either a burdensome presence or an ever present absence.

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