Motherhood

For whatever reason, the concept of motherhood seemed far more natural and "right" to me the first time around, with my son. He was my first born, so wanted, so special. Although he gave me a huge run for my money as an infant with colic, endless crying, anxiety-causing fits in public places, etc., I loved him more than life itself since the moment I laid eyes on him.

Ever since I caught sight of the faint pink line materializing on the pregnancy test with my second, my thoughts have been conflicted. I wanted her, I wanted her very much. Yet her appearance in the incarnation of that faint pink line brought mixed emotions from the start. I've written about this before - there were several extenuating circumstances that made this the case. However, I want to write about a specific thing that's been playing on my mind since the moment I heard the words "it's a girl." from the ultrasound technician.

To be mother of a girl. I can barely elaborate on what it is that causes my discomfort. There are a few pieces to the puzzle, and I frankly can't pretend to understand it all. One, I'm certain, is my own difficult girlhood and my adulthood as a woman. There are challenges that women only face, and they were definitely challenging to me. Issues of body, confidence, self-worth, etc. If I'm honest, these issues stem to a large extent from my own relationship with my mother. This was brought home to me again yesterday, when I paid a quick visit to my parents' house to wish my father a happy birthday. I settled the little one in with me and set to chatting with my parents. My mother took a look at Ada and said "she's going to be like the rest of the family - she's not very photogenic." I couldn't process this fast enough to come up with a suitable response, and my mother continued. "Those recent photos - she has crossed eyes...she's...not going to be a conventional beauty.."

At the time, it rolled off my back to a great extent. Now, I realize this is probably due to the fact that I'm very used to this type of comment from my mother. Do I think she meant it meanly? No. Yet, it wears at the soul. It still wears at me, and gnaws at my consciousness. So, my child, my little girl, is ugly? Is that it? I have been faced with this relationship, these types of off-hand comments, my entire life as a girl, and then as a woman. Do I think that my mother ever meant to be negative, to undermine me? NO. I absolutely do not. Yet, something in her psyche, something that has probably been imbedded in her consciousness since SHE was a little girl, has made her this way. And it has cast a shadow on me, on our mother-daughter relationship, and in turn it is casting a shadow on her relationship with her infant granddaughter.

I swore, when I heard the words "it's a girl", that I would do all in my power to have a relationship with my daughter that was supportive, and loving, and positive. That I would not walk down the path that had been laid out by my relationship with my mother. I'm not saying that my mother doesn't love me, or that I don't love her. I love her more than anything, and I know she loves me as well. Yet, there was always that subtext, that passive aggressive shadow that stood between us. I can already feel it slipping insidiously between my daughter and I, borne on the current of what I'm used to..what I considered normal throughout my childhood and still expect in my adult relationship with my mother. My mother is a brilliant, amazing woman. She has a doctorate, she's written books. She came out of the workforce for almost a decade to raise three children and see them safely into the school system before returning to work and building an amazing, fulfilling career from a temporary gig at CRA in an admin role - she climbed all the way to the manager/Director role, travelled the country, and did alot for her field. I admire all of this tremendously. Yet, for whatever reason, a reason I will never fully understand, she never "clicked" with her daughters. Okay, she clicked a bit more effectively with my sister, but that is likely because my sister came out a carbon copy of her.

I never felt close to my mother. I don't want that for my daughter and I. I want something very different. I only hope that because I am so painfully conscious of the damage wrought by my mother's and my relationship, that I will work my ass off to realize a very different, nurturing, and positive relationship with Ada. I need to do this for myself, as well as for her.