Ten years ago, at this time, I was filled with anticipation mixed with trepidation. I was certain in my decision but was hazy about the consequences. In a few more hours we would set off, my parents and myself, a family of three. Of course I would be driving. But on our way back, I would not be driving. I would be otherwise occupied. And here I am, still otherwise occupied. I set out in the morning as a single woman with not a care in the world, came back a mother. As my daughter cuddled in my arms in the backseat of the car, while my father drove and mother navigated, it had not really sunk in. I smiled down at the peacefully sleeping face, more in accordance with textbook behaviour. Then we reached home, parked our car and I climbed out with her in my arms. My neighbour who was coming down the stairs asked, ‘Whose child is this?’ and I replied, ‘Mine!’. That is when it hit me, I am a mother! It is such an all-consuming, all subsuming identity. During these past ten years, I have wond...