Nautral Mothers

I started to recognize that something was off with my mother in my early twenties.  Not that I attributed it directly to her.  For years, she and I had been sort of at odds.  I blamed my parents divorce and my mother's sudden interest in her "new family" for the strain.  But as I moved into my twenties, and NM pushed me more and more to "get over" the divorce, it started to dawn on me.  I wasn't angry for things she'd done in the past, I was angry for things she was doing in the present.  Undermining me, triangulating me, pushing me.  Insulting me and my husband, guilting me, obligating me to do things, manipulating me and pushing me to manipulate others. 

Things went down hill from there.  And when I had my own children, it all came crashing to a head.  It might have been the way she obsessed over my new baby.  Or how she over involved herself in my pregnancy.  She described endlessly to many people how difficult my pregnancy had been on her.  She took over.  She pushed more.  She demanded that I appreciate everything she did for me, even if I didn't want her to do these things.  Having my own kids opened my eyes wide to the shocking reality of having a narcissistic mother. 

I had a difficult time connecting to my fetus.  I didn't have all of those gushy, romantic daydreams.  I was sick, very, very sick for a long time.  Pregnancy was hard on me.  NM criticized me for not being more excited.  She criticized me for not thinking of my baby more when I had a small glass of wine on Christmas (I didn't drink during my pregnancy or for months before as I tried to conceive).  She questioned every choice I made, demanding I take the best care of my baby (I often wonder what she thought I was doing or why I wouldn't make the best choices for my baby).  Nm talked of falling "instantly" in love with my sister and I. 

For me, I don't think the reality of the baby really dawned on me.  It all seemed so abstract.  Even seeing my belly swelling and feeling kicking did little to help me "connect" in the way NM already seemed to be to my fetus.  I'm sure that I was choosing, on some level, to remain a little distant.  I'm sure that I feared things would not go well (I was in shock that my baby was adorable when he was born, I was sure that he would not be).  I really struggled to believe that things would be positive and not negative.  I stressed, I worried, I wondered "what have I done".  I was scared shitless.  And  I think, for me, it was a little difficult to fall in love with an "abstract" concept, a creature that I had not met and had no relationship with. 

NM went on and on about un-natural mothers.  Women she knew who didn't bond right away with their babies.  How strange that was for her.  Maybe it was.  But when my son was born, although I did feel love and concern for him, I know that I didn't have an instant bond.  Maybe it was because I'd just gone through emergency surgery, or that I was drugged up, or that I'd almost died.  Maybe it was because I'd been awake for over 24 hours.  I don't know.  But I knew enough to not tell NM how I was feeling.  Late into the first night, after everyone was gone, I had sent the baby to the nursery to get some sleep (under NM's direct advice).  The nurse looked at me strangely, but wheeled the baby away.  I feel asleep for a few hours to awaken to the nurse wheeling my son back into the room.  He was crying and she claimed nothing they could do would calm him.  She handed him to me and he became quiet and calm.  It was at that moment, like a lightening bolt that I remember feeling strongly connected to him.  I felt a surge, a sudden "oh, my gosh, I'm his mom, he recognizes me."  That moment changed me forever.  But I couldn't tell NM about it.

When my second son came, I'll be honest, I had wanted a girl.  Not that I was disappointed with a boy.  I wasn't saddened by having a boy.  But I had hoped for a girl.  I had hoped for dresses and dance lessons and tea parties.  I knew that I, most likely, would not have any more kids and that this would be it.  I made the mistake of telling NM how I felt.  She chastised me and shamed me and told me how horrible I was for not appreciating the miracle I had in my healthy son.  Although I could see what she was saying, her criticism made me feel worse.  I couldn't stop the feelings I was having.  And as I saw it, I was perfectly capable of loving and wanting my son, while also grieving for the daughter that I would never have.  I tried to explain that to her.  That I just needed to mourn a path in life that would never be mine.  She never understood.  By this time, I had enough sense to know that her judgment didn't change my feelings and that grieving and mourning was the best thing I could do for myself (which I still believe) but she surely tried to make me feel like a horrible person. 

When I was little, my NM was probably a good mom.  I say probably, because from what I remember she was kind and caring.  She read to us and took us places.  I look happy in the pictures from when I was younger.  But as I turned 5, 8, 10 that started to fade away.  She became distant and bitter and mean.  She had a low tolerance for my imperfections (typical childish mistakes).  I don't remember her being particularly maternal then.  When I was ill, as I often was, she would buy me ice pops and make me tea.  But I don't remember her cuddling on the couch with me to comfort me.  In fact, I don't remember her comforting me much at all.  When I got fired from a babysitting job, she chastised me (although she recently told me some bullshit about how she came to my rescue).  When I hit puberty and tried to confide in her, she laughed at me and told me that it couldn't be.  I don't remember confiding in her about friends or boys or school troubles.  I always tried to make life "easier" for her, be perfect, do everything right.  I wanted her to be happy.  I don't remember her being particularly happy.  But from watching her with my kids, I imagine she was a bit better when I was little.  I know she coddled and rocked and sung to my little sister.  I know that she could be tender and kind.

I can see how it happened with her.  How things changed.  My own son is growing up now.  I have a very small toddler and a preschooler.  My toddler is little and chubby and hangs on my every word.  He loves me and adores me and is enthralled with me.  I can see how NM (and MIL) find that so intoxicating.  He doesn't question me or ignore me and loves me unconditionally.  My older son has developed a bit of an attitude.  He's been snarky and disrespectful and tests limits every chance he gets.  But he's trying to become independent.  It may be hard and annoying at times, but I don't love him any less.  I don't try less hard to be his mom.  I don't enjoy his company any less than that of my toddler.  I can already see NM starting to pull away from my older son.  He was her world for so many years.  Despite my best efforts to shield her off of him, she doted on him and obsessed about him and fawned over him.  But he's started to talk back a bit.  He's started to tell her no.  He's not little and cute and cuddly (but he is handsome and strong and still cute).  And so he gets less attention.  She's snarkier to him.  She doesn't like him standing up for himself and sees it as rude and disrespectful.  He recently told her to back off of acting like his mother.  This did not go over well.  And although he was probably a touch disrespectful in tone, I let it go (although we discussed better ways to say it later) and let him say his piece.  It obviously had been building for awhile.  So, although I do get what an intoxicating drug a small, cuddly toddler is, I don't get how you pull away from your kid when they get older.

As I got older, her fuse got shorter with me.  Everything was fine when I let her dress me, and control me, and do as she said.  Smarting off was not an option.  I don't remember my mother telling me I was pretty.  She did tell me I looked nice (as in, my clothes, that she picked out, looked good on me).  I don't remember her asking about school or music class.  I remember her making fun of me a lot.  Teasing me.  I don't remember her consoling me.  I do remember her embarrassing me.  I don't remember a lot of hugs.  I do remember her always having other things to do.  When I became a teenager, she backed off further.  She started an affair with my step dad and his family consumed her for years.  She bought me prom dresses and took pictures and threw a graduation party and attended my drama productions.  But she didn't help with homework, or ask about my friends.  She didn't seem to care when I hardly came home at night during my senior year (I "lived" -read crashed on their couch- with my boyfriend's parents most weekday evenings so that I could keep my job and attend after school events.)  She recently told me she was telling a coworker to wait until her girls hit the teenage years and how "hard" it was. I wonder what the fuck she was talking about.  How could I have been difficult?  I never drank, I didn't sneak out, and I was rarely home.

A lady I talked to recently told me that she "wasn't a good mom to babies."  That, when her kids were little she didn't know what to do with them.  That she was a better mom when the kids grew older.  My NM, and my MIL, seem to be better moms when their kids were little.  I've heard many moms say that they preferred, or were better moms, at one age or another.  Is that normal?  Is it OK to admit you were a shitty mom to your infants?  Is that just acknowledging reality?  I mean, we all fail as mothers at one point or another.  We all have strengths and weaknesses.  But is it OK to not be as good at raising infants as teenagers.  It makes sense to me.  I know lots of women who have no clue what to do with babies.  Even their own.  They don't understand the cognitive or developmental skills of babies and little kids.  They have expectations the kids will act more like little adults.  It makes sense that some women (and men) would struggle with this.  I mean, few parents take classes in child development (although I wish they would).  But is that "OK"?  Where is the line between admitting weaknesses and excusing shitty parenting?

I imagine lots of women would refer to me as a "natural mother".  I get kids.  I studied them in school.  I've always worked with them.  I understand them and they gravitate towards me.  When I worked for a neurologist administering neuropsych evaluations, my coworkers gave me all of the children patients.  I was better at putting kids at ease.  I could get cooperation out of them better than my coworkers.  I'm the lady at the park or the kids group that all of the other kids gravitate to.  Not because I'm organizing activities or really doing anything special.  I imagine it's because they see an adult who is willing to pay them attention.  That I see them. 

When I was in high school a friend told me she imagined I'd be a soccer mom driving the van pool.  I was disgusted, as this offended my feminist sensibilities at the time.  I was going to have a career.  But here I am, a stay at home mom.  I wonder what in the hell she saw in me that clued her in. 

And the thing is, I may have good natural instincts, but I'm not always a good mom.  That is the hardest thing for me as an ACoN, to see the effects it has on my kids.  I don't always no what to do.  I can get overwhelmed.  When I'm tired and cranky and sick of fighting with the narcs, I get irritable.  I don't have a support network of friends or grandparents to give me relief.  I do it all on my own.  I learned mothering by mothering my sister and gathering tidbits from my grandmother and aunts and (even) NM (despite her shit job of parenting, she didn't suck at everything, so I try not to throw the baby out with the bathwater, so to speak).  I trust my gut and read books.  I go to bed every night going over what I can do better tomorrow.  And I try my damnedest.  And I fail at times.

I wonder what kind of mother I'd be if I didn't have this legacy.  If I didn't have a mother who acted more like an older sister than my mother.  If I didn't have to fight and struggle.  Do all parents struggle this much?  Do all parents work this hard?  The answers really wouldn't make much of a difference.  Because I guess in the end, I've got to just keep moving forward.  Because these kids need better.  They need better.  I just wish I could heal and fix things a little bit faster for them.  I wish I could be better for them.  I don't want my fucked-upness to get in the way of them having a good mom and a great childhood.