I suppose it is around this time in my life when I start to think about the idea of being a mother. After all, Rohit and I have been together for about 7 years, and married for nearly one. It’s high time we got there, amongst all the other scare tactics we hear about fertility rates dropping with every cocktail you ingest (that one is fake, I totally made it up as I sit here and sip on my homemade mojito - rather delicious, point of fact). So I was rather intrigued about The Mothers, a book that takes the idea of the desire of motherhood to a whole new plane. One that’s hopefully miles away from where I am in my brain space.
The Mothers, by Jennifer Gilmore, is a heartbreaking look at what it’s like for a couple who cannot have children biologically due to the protagonist’s bout with cancer some years before, and their deep, sorrowful attempt to adopt. I say sorrowful because it seems that they are doomed from the outset: traveling hundreds of miles in one day to visit an adoption center, being strung along and turned down, and just truly wanting to be a parent, so much so that it hurts.