A young man I know in his thirties was talking to me recently about the huge responsibility of having children. He believed that in these times of political upheaval and change, it was unwise to bring another being into the world. He certainly couldn’t justify doing it.

I had a great deal of sympathy and respect for him. He’d thought it out and had considered his reasons. Fair play.

Compare that to Adelle Roberts who says of herself, ‘I am a mother, a wife and a long-haul airline pilot. In that order.’ For her, being a parent is a priority and comes before everything, but she is still a working mother.

Times have changed where working parents are concerned. When I was expecting my first child, thirty years ago, I was the first mum at my place of work- a secondary school – to take maternity leave. No-one quite knew the rules, nor did they know how quite how to respond. There were no opportunities for toilet visits or morning sickness breaks. That wasn’t allowed..

And once my children arrived and I was back at work twelve weeks later, there was very little concern for the practicalities of juggling childcare and work. As far as the school was concerned, I worked alongside everyone else with the same responsibilities and the same constraints. There were no concessions fr parents. If a meeting was called ad-hoc, (and there were lots of them), I had to be there, and I had to make arrangements that would fit my children around my job. People said that I was lucky to have a job, being a mum. I was told several times that I was ‘taking a job from a man,’ and therefore I was expected to be twice as good. I could never use parenthood or children or tiredness to justify being less than 100% fit for purpose.

That was pants!! Thank goodness times have changed.

I recall standing at the top of a flight of steps, 8 months pregnant with my first, talking down an angry teenager who was waving his arms and threatening to murder another student.

I remember being called out to the primary school that my seven-year-old daughter attended, because she was ill and distraught. It was five miles away and I was in the middle of teaching a 90-minute GCSE lesson. A colleague on a free lesson kindly fetched her and she sat in the back of my lessons for the rest of morning wrapped in a blanket. By the afternoon, she was joining in the practical work with year 9. It was good for all involved.

During a lot of my children’s time at primary school, into early secondary, my partner was working a long way away. Leaving home early in the morning, often at six, coming back late, after seven. For a while he worked in London. He’d come home at weekends. It was down to me to make sure that my kids didn’t suffer and my professional work didn’t suffer either.

There wasn’t a thought for my wellbeing, but that was what I’d committed to. We’d have great evenings, me and the kids, three in a bed, me telling stories, the kids acting them out, singing, laughing. I did the best I could for us all.

In those days there wasn’t the expectation that ‘Dad’ would do what ‘Mum’ did in terms of childcare, even though we were an equal opportunities household. And Big G was a great dad. He was doing his best too. He’d even go to the supermarket for groceries while the rest of us were asleep. My eldest thought food arrived in the cupboards by magic.

And now, thirty years on, I have two grown up kids who are the most incredible human beings. Very different in their choice of life path, because they are different people. We as parents provide the DNA and the nurture, but the rest is up to them and the lifestyle that beckons. I love them both equally and wouldn’t change a thing.

 We’ve had all the rites of passage stuff, as every family does – tears and broken hearts and exams and graduations and wonderful holidays, driving lessons and leaving for uni, and house moves and new jobs. The reality of the empty nest. Feeling a 2% parent in terms of my personal success. Having no help with childcare: it was my fault for having them. No parents to babysit and read bedtime stories. No encouragement or praise, or anyone to say ‘You’re doing a good job.’ Plenty of inferences otherwise.

But it didn’t hold me back. What doesn’t kill us makes us strong.

We have two adult kids who are friends with us and with each other and fabulous human beings. I couldn’t be happier with who they are, and I don’t regret a thing.

But parenthood is a very personal choice; it’s not for everyone. And anyone who takes the leap of faith will find they give up so much, but gain so much more. It’s the most rewarding thing they’ll ever do. And the most steep learning curve, but one they’ll never regret.

As Ewan McGregor said, “The thing about parenting rules is there aren’t any. That’s what makes it so difficult.”

And didn’t someone else say, ‘“Being a parent is like trying to fly a kite in a windstorm – exciting, unpredictable, and always an adventure!” 

That’s so true.