I’m not a mother and to be completely transparent I don’t really want to be one ever. Something struck me so deep in my poetry class last semester that probably pushed me farther into not wanting children, poetry about motherhood. It must be my knack for empathy and passion that connects me so hard to these poems, who knows. I really really love these poems. ‘Metaphors’ by Sylvia Plath and ‘the mother’ by Gwendolyn Brooks, to name a few. There was an especially hard hitting one about being a stay at home mother, but it’s escaping me in the moment. If I remember it I will come back to this. I have an inkling that fellow women in their 20s may relate to this, and if not I would recommend going down a rabbit hole. It’s existential but who doesn’t love that?