I think many women realize that their children make them vulnerable; their love for them holds them hostage. So many things they would do (leave?)—but for the children. I wonder how many realize that their imprisonment is physiological. And, in most cases, as voluntary as that first hit of heroin, cocaine, whatever.
‘But I love my children!’ That’s just the oxytocin talking. You think you love them because you’re a good person, responsible, dutiful, and, well, because they’re so loveable, look at them! That’s just the oxytocin talking.
All those women (most of them) who didn’t really want to become pregnant, but did anyway (because contraception and abortion weren’t easily available, and sex was defined as intercourse), and then claimed, smiling, that they wouldn’t have it any other way, they love their children—just the oxytocin talking.
