CHAPTER EIGHT



The Burden & Guilt of Motherhood
(Navigating Motherhood in the face of Resentment, Bitterness and Anger)


I trudge through the streets of Mofolo, Soweto, taxi fare burning a hole in my pocket. Another day, another rand spent on transport while my husband drives comfortably to work. The injustice festers within me.
As a radiologist, I was once driven and ambitious. Now, I’m just driven to madness by the constant demands of motherhood. My two tiny terrors, Nandi and Lungi, exhausting me since birth. Their father, Sipho, seems oblivious to the chaos they’ve unleashed.
“Mommy’s tired,” I hiss, as Nandi clings to my leg, begging for attention. Her big brown eyes, once captivating, now annoy me.
At work, colleagues tiptoe around me, sensing the volcano brewing inside. Dr. Mthembu, my superior, approaches cautiously. “Nomsa, your patience is wearing thin, so is everyone else’s for that matter. Perhaps take a break?”
“I don’t need a break, I need my life back!” I snap, X-ray images blurring before my eyes. I blink incessantly, just so the tears I feel rushing through my eyes wouldn’t fall.
“I understand, believe me I do. However we cannot have you constantly coming to work in a fetid mood, as this brings staff morale down and it has to stop. There is actually pressure from above, for me to haul you to a disciplinary hearing because of how you have been treating your colleagues, particularly those who report to you.”
“By the way, this is where I’m supposed to apologise right?” Dr Mthembu looks puzzled at my audacity, as I shrug nonchalantly. What was I hoping to achieve with my stance? I have no idea.
Perhaps I wanted to be towed to a disciplinary hearing and be suspended somehow. Then I’d stay home for some time, just so I could recuperate. But, will that even be possible? Home is the last place I’d like to be for longer than it is necessary. At least at work, I spend close to 10 hours of my day, extended on purpose. My husband doesn’t even know this fact. I prefer it that way.
Finally sense prevails and I rush to Dr. Mthembu’s office and as I step in, he is standing up and hands me a paper. What is this? A written warning! I never would have thought he’d seriously consider giving me one of those! We have a good working relationship and he is a really good person.
I guess even the good ones do get tired of walking on egg-shells where certain employees are concerned. He is my superior and is within his rights to call me to order. I have been insolent, perhaps deliberately but yeah, here we are – my first written warning.
I sign both copies and hand the other one to him for safe-keeping, I guess. He puts a stamp on it, leaving me embarrassed. His stern face refuses to budge any further, “dismissed!” he says coldly.
I step out of his office with my invisible tail tucked in and find colleagues and patients alike, ogling me like I have a communicable disease. I ignore them and call the next patient. My assistant chooses to not send any patients through to me. I knew then, that I had messed up – big time!

Taxi rides, hospital shifts and endless parenting duties consume me. Colleagues cannot stop but to whisper about my irritability, patients sensing my distraction. I’m slowly losing myself.
I’m not okay, I haven’t been for a very long time. Before children, I was Dr. Nomsa, a very confident radiologist. Now, I’m just “Mommy”. My body bears scars of motherhood – stretch marks, sagging breasts, exhaustion that just won’t go away.

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I arrive home very late, after 8 o’clock and find my husband having taken care of most things. He fetched our children from pre-school and primary school respectively. I’m inwardly grateful but I cannot help but to still think that he has it easy.
Aunty Pumla has already bathed the kids and fed them. The little one Nandi, is already asleep while Lungi is still awake, visibly tired, waiting to give me a piece of her mind. She is exactly like me – never minces her words.
“Mama, I don’t like your work! Why do you always come home late? Nandi has been crying non-stop. She has been waiting for you. She fell at school and has a gash on her lip. I hate your job! Why should daddy be the only one who looks after us when we come back from school?” The girl is brave alright!
“Lungi, why do you talk to me like that? What should I do because I’m working hard for you and your sister. I have always done this job, even before you and your sister came into this world. So don’t even try to get on my nerves!” I yell at her and push her out of the way. She cries and runs to her bedroom, while my husband is looking at me as if he sees a lunatic, arms crossed. I greet him and he keeps quiet. I repeat my greeting and he pulls his breath from deep within. “I heard you!” he snaps.
“Oh well…”, I roll my eyes and continue with my disrespect, as he blocks my path. “I want to check on Nandi.”
“Don’t even think of going in that room! Aunty Pumla is sleeping with Nandi because her mother was and still is AWOL. OUR BEDROOM NOW!” he barks, so loud I got a chill in my belly, as my heart thumps rigid beats. He grabs me by my arm and throws me on the bed. This time, I’m scared and don’t know what is about to happen. He immediately realizes my frozen posture and backs away, brushing his shaven head with his hand, his expression still hard. He then leans against the door.
“Nomsa, what is this? What is going on with you? Look what you nearly made me do woman!” No, he didn’t just say this!
“I’m sorry, I’m overwhelmed with work and everything!”
“Everything? What are you talking about? I hired Aunty Pumla to ease the burden but you’re still complaining. The least you can do is to stop coming home at this ungodly hour. You are a wife and a mother, and at least at work you do not work shifts. But you are still ungrateful!” he continues yelling at me.
“So, what do you want me to do? Leave my job?”
“That’s not what I’m saying, and you know that. You cannot leave your job as we need both our salaries to keep us afloat and live fairly well. All I’m saying is, let’s work together. You and I are married and I shouldn’t have to keep asking you to talk to me about what’s bothering you and why you have changed so much.”
“You didn’t expect me to change? Of course I have changed. What do you think? I don’t understand why it must only be me who gives up everything!” I explode. “You get to drive to work, while I’m stuck in taxis. Your life hasn’t changed, but mine is over! Your life has practically remained uninterrupted and you still look the same, while mine has become a perpetual sacrifice. I had to change my wardrobe because I’m now disfigured. But you don’t care about that, do you? My body no longer belongs to me,” I breathe heavily, ending my rant.
Sipho’s calm demeanour infuriates me. “Baby, I repeat, we’re in this together. There’s no one in this world who could ever replace you in my heart, irrespective of the changes in your body. Remember, we decided to have children…”
“Decided?” I laugh bitterly. “You decided; I was very busy building my career and you forced me to start a family when I wasn’t ready!”


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