This Mother’s Day I am thankful for the two who call me mother. I have been a mother for a longer time than not; so, I don’t know what not feels like anymore. Being a mother is also a significant part of my identity; and for a long time, the largest part. I acknowledge that not all women get to be a mother, and for this reason I am especially thankful to God, that I have the privilege of being called Mum.
Falling pregnant was easy for me. Being a mother was much harder. In fact, after the birth of baby number two, I was diagnosed with postnatal depression. The complexities of my relationship with my own mother, and the twenty-four seven demands of mothering two infants met in the middle, and my edges started to fray. For many years I tried to juggle it all, so I could have it all; family and career – or business, in my case. I yelled at my little ones, and oftentimes expected more of them, and myself, than was good for them. I wish I knew different back then.
Ten years into this mothering gig, I made a commitment to follow Jesus, and started to ask what that meant for me as a mother. I realised then, that I had actually abdicated most of the raising of our children to other people. Between childcare, school teachers, Sunday school teachers, music teachers and sport coaches, I was little more than a taxi – and an irritable one at that.
It was not until I found myself homeschooling our children, that I realised how much our little family had become a bunch of individuals, with little connection to each other. One day, turning to two squabbling siblings in the back seat of our sedan, I said, ‘You two have to learn to get along’. Until then, I relied on other people to deal with my children’s behaviours and needs, and was relieved to send my two back to school, after holidays. This was the beginning of a season, where I took on the full responsibility of mothering our children. As difficult as some of these days were, I valued every one of them. And just when I found my rhythm, I had to let go. I had to start to delegate some of the raising of my children to others. I look back now on those years, and thank God for the memories our little family built together; all because I trusted Him to show me how to mother.
I learnt to pray for my children as teenagers, and I had to learn to let go and stop smothering. I watched with fascination as God brought into my son’s life other men, to call him out from under this mother’s wings. Men, including his father, called him to a life of adventure and the opportunity to be a man. Letting go of my son was one of the hardest things I had to do. But, this rite of passage was wanted.
As a mother of a daughter, I wrestle to model a different way; to leave a different legacy, to that of my own mother’s. As much as I loved my mother, and she loved me, our complex relationship was threaded with unhealthy dependencies, and a poor mental health legacy. Desiring to be a good mother, with the help of God and the counseling of others, I faced and dealt with stuff. If I was not a mother, I do not know if I would have the courage enough.
For a few, special years, I got to mother another – a son by another mother. I learnt something else in this season. I learnt to love without, dare I say, owning another. And I am also reminded, that while motherhood is not assured to all, for those that are blessed, it is a privilege and one of the biggest gifts of all.
Who I am today, is intricately linked to who I am, as a mother. I have the privilege of being wished ‘Happy Mother’s Day’’today, by a thirty-year-old man and his twenty-eight-year-old sister; who is also his friend.
Thank you, God, for helping me to be a mother.
P.S. And thank you God, that I am now a grandmother.
On the Blog! 