An old snapshot of mine and my son .... in 1960's:

My world was my baby's there.
No boundary between us. A sense of whole.
My consciousness, attention & energy would be devoted to him.
Every moment of mine would be dedicated to him.
As a mother, I would be for my child during 24 hours.
Tired out from a responsibility for him,
Feeling guilty when I recognized child care was annoying,
I accused myself of something queer or a lack of motherhood.
On the other side, I hugged my baby, being in an ecstasy of happiness & delight...
Days of antinomy.

Who is crying?
' I'm choking! Don't abandon me! Please... give life to me! '
No answer to "her" inside me.
'Why do you ....? ' I, Mother, still ignore "her".

After twenty years, I found an answer to "her"
in a piece of writing by Elisabeth Badinter, L'Amour En Plus.
Imprinting; something society and family used on me!
Most women were also trapped in the motherhood.

In the 'Real? Motherhood', the cradle suggests the coffin to viewers.
Mothers bury theirselves as women there.
A place for birth & burial.
Expecting the death, it's not negative conception complicatedly...

Motherhood is not a natural instinct but a historical product & result
of the modern period.

Mako Idemitsu