Telling people you don't want any children is a lot easier than saying you can't have any. So that was my story for most of my life, and I stuck with it. People never even asked me "why"; they accepted it and moved on, and that ultimately worked for me. So much, that I began to believe that story myself. I didn't ever want to have any children; I never yearned to be anyone's Mommy. Nor did I ever want to get married.You see, I was insulin resistant. Still am. And when I was younger, doctors had said: "You won't be able to have any children." No one explained that to my teenage self. No one said it could be corrected, and that's what I needed to hear. So, I matured into an adult never having any desire to be a Mother. In all honesty, it suited my "tomboy" lifestyle as a petrolhead woman. Fast cars and my career were the order of the day, and nothing else mattered. Fast forward a few years, and I met my now-husband, two days after moving back from a significant five years in Johannesburg. A job which cemented my career in the local industry. A year later and we were engaged. And then precisely three months later, I found out I was pregnant.It couldn't have been; it must have been some mistake. My cycle had been irregular over the years. And even though I believed I could never be with child, something made me go and buy a pregnancy test after a few months of having no sign of the crimson tide. To say that I was scared shit-less is an understatement. I was so confused and terrified, and I was already almost 13 weeks pregnant. How could I have not known? My very first thought was that I needed to get to a Marie Stopes clinic, I couldn't have this baby. I didn't know how to be a parent. My fears were short-lived because I decided to tell my fiancé immediately. He was over the moon, and that made everything all right. Or so I thought.I can't recall a time in my life when I was ever broody. I could hold my younger cousins as babies, or the offspring of my friends, but never had I yearned to have a child of my own. I battled to come to terms that another little person was growing inside of me. My self-doubt consumed me as I fought to show that I was happy. I was, but I was a mess. We told our families, and our wedding date needed to be brought forward six months so that we could wed before I gave birth. I wanted it that way. So, at almost seven months pregnant, we tied the knot. Now that I think about it, my wedding dress was black. Not because I was impure, but because it was my favourite colour and as someone who hardly ever wore a dress, the colour was non-negotiable. My dressmaker Mr Smith said in all his years, he never made a dress for a bride in black. I was his first; he passed away a couple of years after my wedding. May his soul rest in peace.. But the self-doubt, the fears, it still consumed me. I worried for my baby; I feared that whatever I was feeling, she would feel and that it would affect her. I loved her, though, I loved her more and more every single day. I realised I needed her way more than she needed me. I just had to have some faith that I could be her Mother and believe that everything was as it needed to be.And then she was born; a perfect little girl. We named her Sloane. She just turned five years old. She's still absolutely perfect, stubborn as a mule, and as cheeky as an adolescent teen going into puberty. She's damn smart, insists on being a real-life Princess every single day. She's changed our lives forever; she's the best thing that's ever happened to my husband and me. But, I still think I'm the worst Mother in the world. I still think I fail her every day. I write this with tears rolling down my cheeks because I still feel I am not worthy of being her Mommy.Yet, she's our air. She's our reason, our heartbeat and I wouldn't want things any other way. As women, we are so hard on ourselves. I have a dream job, a superstar husband who is an amazing father to our child, and I am doing my best even when I don't realise it. I am the first female motoring editor of a mainstream publication, I am a mother, and a wife and God has given me the strength to juggle it all – even though it isn't always easy. Sometimes I forget about 'me', and to give myself a little pat on the back. Because in the end, I am doing pretty damn all right. * Janine is the editor of Wheels24, mother to Sloane, wife to a rugby-player and lives in Cape Town. Do you have a story to share? Send it to email@example.com and include your contact details and a photo. Visit Landisa for more stories.