Vows and lies in motherhood
What does it even mean to be a good mother?
If you’re in the US, you probably know it was Mother’s Day this past weekend. I knew it too, of course, but it didn’t dawn on me until late Sunday night that I might want to write something about it.
Sometimes, I think of just the right thing to do, but it's about three beats too late. I’m like a walking, talking, seven-second delay.
Mothering is complex, and trying to honor that complexity with a day of brunch and flowers and hand-written (although adorable) cards and notes, while sweet, thoughtful, and all the things, pales in comparison to everything it takes to actually honor a mother. What I’m trying to say is that the Hallmark holidays have never resonated with me much. I guess that’s why writing a Mother’s Day post wasn’t on my radar.
When I became a mother in 1999, I had a vision for the family I wanted, the life, and the childhood I wanted to provide for my kids. In the early stages of mothering, I thought that all you really had to do was love your kid, and things would turn out okay.
I wasn’t prepared for all the mental, emotional, and physical fortitude mothering entailed. And, as it turns out, I didn’t really understand what love was. Motherhood rocked me to my core, but it is probably what I needed to become the woman I am today.
I’m reading a lot of my old journals right now, especially the notes I kept while I was going through my divorce many years ago. I came across an entry from back then detailing my abject grief in making that decision.
I won’t quote the entire thing because it’s a real downer, but there were a few points that stuck out as important to me, especially as I’m currently standing in the light from the ‘other side’ of that season.
I saw in my notes that at the time, I was realizing I had made vows to myself regarding my kids:
My children would never experience the pain of divorce
My children would not come from a broken home
Those two vows drove almost all of my decisions, even at the detriment of my own well-being.
I was also uncovering some lies I’d been believing:
Staying married was the only way to keep my kids safe
The only way to have a good relationship with my children was to stay home with them (Aka not work outside the home)
Here’s what I wrote:
I feel like I have failed my children, that I have robbed them of a whole mother/father family experience and a loving home where we each love and support each other.
I wanted to be able to stay at home with you so that you would feel a sense of safety and connection to your home. Have a place where you could feel safe, known, and loved with a solid foundation and beginning that you could stand on to build your own lives. Divorce and a life of nannies, aftercare, and endless ‘passing off’ is not the childhood I wanted for you.
I remember agonizing over these things and the pain this whole situation would bestow upon them. Divorce was not what I wanted.
Despite the vows I’d made and the lies I’d believed, we didn’t have the family experience I wanted for them and likely never would. We did have good times, but a lot of what we had was dysfunctional, unhealthy, and unconnected.
I wanted so much more for them. I wanted so much more for me.
And it wasn’t only the marriage that was messed up; I was, too. There was a point in time when I didn’t like the mother I was to my children. I wanted to be different with them, different for them.
I had this end-game of love, connection, and nurturing in mind, but knew my everyday actions would not get me there. Which meant I was going to have to change. And change I did. I changed a lot about myself and a lot about my life, including deciding to change my marital status, which seemed counterintuitive when you think of it in terms of being a better mother.
Why would a good mother divorce her children’s father? (You can read why in a post from a while back, Why Staying Together for the Kids is Such a Bad Idea.)
I renounced the vows and stopped believing the lies I was telling myself. I healed, I grew, and I became a better version of myself, which, in the end, was the most loving thing I could ever do for them.
As far as I know. I hope so, anyway.
Mothering, like humaning, is imperfect. There is no one way to be a good mother. If you are a mother, I hope you can remember this in the hard times, during the difficult decisions, and in the good times.
And, I hope you enjoyed your day.