Full-time mum: «A lot of joy and a lot of sorrow»
Beryll, 33, a photographer, and Gian, 37, a teacher, have three sons Jimmy, 15, Nanook, 12, Darwin, 10, and daughter Meadow, 5.
I was 17 and doing an apprenticeship as a businesswoman when I got pregnant. At 18, there were no more parties, but a lot to do: moving out of home, living independently, looking after a baby. And yet, family life soon felt normal. The following year I went back to work, my husband stayed at home. When he started university, we hired a childminder. I found it difficult to leave Jimmy with her. There was no familiarisation, the little one cried every time we said goodbye. I suffered.
As a full-time mum, my brain turned to mush. I was forgetting words, getting my tongue out of place, barely having adult conversations.
After my final exams, I wanted to be there for him. It was clear to us that we wanted our family to grow. I have four siblings and always wanted to have a large family. I was pregnant for the second time when I finished my apprenticeship and was looking forward to being a full-time mum.
Doubts pushed away
Children belong with their mother, that's what I was taught. Our mother kept our father, who was an entrepreneur, free and devoted herself to us - that makes a woman happy. Even with my first child, I had my doubts: On the one hand, I found everyday life with a baby boring, on the other, overwhelming: why couldn't I manage something as mundane as running the household?
My mum tried to cheer me up - «A baby makes up for all doubts» - but my friends had other things to talk about. There was no one to tell me what would have helped me: that these feelings were normal. Why did I still consciously become a mum for the third time? On the one hand, the desire for a large family remained unbroken, on the other hand, I believed that my life would be easier with three children, because I would be so busy that there would be no time to brood.
The hustle and bustle - two dogs came along - actually helped. Children bring you a lot of joy, but being a full-time mum also brings a lot of grief. For example, my brain turned to mush. I forgot words, got lost in conversation and hardly had any adult conversations. I was at home for eight years, and taught the children myself for several years. Accompanying their learning was fun. And yet: I wanted to get out.
Regaining autonomy
When Darwin was three, I applied for a temporary job as a waitress - out of fear that I would end up like my mum. She had sacrificed her own interests in favour of the family, and when we moved out and my father separated from her , she lost her purpose in life. Waiting tables gave me back a bit of autonomy.
For thousands of years, raising children was the task of an entire clan, never before were individuals responsible for it.
I took photos again, organised shoots and learnt more. When I became pregnant again unplanned, there was the anxious question of whether everything would start all over again - but there was also a plan: I wanted to make photography my profession. I prepared everything during my pregnancy and said to Gian: I have to make it, there aren't many other prospects. Today I am well booked as a pregnancy, family and baby photographer.
My life has taken a U-turn. My husband and I are often at each other's beck and call and have to make sure we have time for each other and the family. I no longer want to be a full-time mum. The model, like the micro-family, is not species-appropriate: for thousands of years, raising children was the task of an entire clan, never before were individuals responsible for it. This knowledge helps me to be more lenient with myself as a mother.
