An anonymous e-admission by an unregistered user.
As much as I hate to admit it, I hate being a mother.
My own family was extremely dysfunctional and so, I always thought that when I had a family, I would break the cycle. I waited until my 30s to even consider marriage and kids, because I didn't want to be financially or emotionally not ready for them.
Days after my wedding, I found myself pregnant. My family and friends made me feel like I should feel nothing but blessed to be a mom at 35. But I was on the fence, going back and forth between worried and happy. Around the 7th month, I was 99% sure I'd made a mistake and desperately wanted an abortion, but it wasn't an option that late. The other 1% of me stayed hopeful that the mommy instincts would kick in once I gave birth.
They never did.
Seven years later and though I'd die for my son, at the same time, I wish he didn't exist. I've contemplated divorce and leaving his father to raise him but I would hate to cause him the same emotional scarring my own parents caused me.