Even before I became a mother, I had a particular wish for my future children. Looking back at several not so fond memories of my childhood, I vowed I would do everything for them to have a better one. They shouldn’t have to grow up too fast. They would not have to feel unwanted, misunderstood or worthless. I would guard their innocence and happiness like a hawk.
The major driving force behind the different attempts of therapy I tried throughout the years, was the well-being of my (future) kids. I wouldn’t allow mistakes in motherhood.
In fact, I didn’t want them to become like me at all. Just like the mother who really tries hard not to show her child how much she is freaked out by spiders, in order not to raise a little arachnophobic like herself. My list of not-to-pass-ons was just longer: low self esteem, perfectionism, fear of failure, social clumsiness, easy overstimulation and of course CFD: ‘continuously fretting disorder’.
The first five years of motherhood, I had the impression I could accomplish all this. I actually felt like the perfect mother: patient, involved, crafty, warm. I even managed to stick to my not-to-pass-on-list. It would cost me quite some effort, but I would not interfere when my son was building a crooked tower, so he could not catch my perfectionism. Trying not to pass on perfectionism while desperately trying to be a perfect mother. It may sound absurd now, but back then, it totally made sense.
Three years ago, my perfect balance in motherhood shifted drastically. When our son turned five, we couldn’t ignore anymore that he was going to develop at a speed different from his peers. At the same time, our adopted daughter arrived, aged two and a half.
They both forced me to face my demons better than any therapy has ever done throughout the years.
My son and I, we discovered developing an intelligence and sensitivity far beyond our physical age, is a struggle we share. Where his friends will watch a grazing cow on a field trip and complain about the stench, he will likely try to understand why this mammal has four stomachs, how to measure the circumference of the pasture and how long it would take for the cow to eat all that grass. And how much dung it would have produced by then, of course. His sense of humour is still a seven year old’s.
My daughter and I, we’ve been battling childhood trauma and attachment disorder together. We cried together in the shower numerous times, holding each other fiercely. The battle has been rough. It still is. Sometimes I just can’t comfort her like I should, because I need comforting myself. But she amazes me with a resilience I just can’t manage. She might be jumping on the trampoline and singing imaginary happy-songs, while I crash on the couch to mentally recover from holding her mourning and kicking little body for over half an hour.
It has been extremely painful to see my least fond childhood memories revive in my kids.
Comforting a son that feels like an alien, desperately trying to cover up his super powers because he just wants to blend in. Reassuring a daughter that follows me around the house like a puppy because she just can’t believe she won’t be abandoned again.
Painful. Heart wrenching. And feeding the CFD by the tons.
However, I’m seeing now that our struggles do not necessarily have to be the same. Because, you know, they have me. Of course I can’t protect them from being hurt. No mother can do that for her children. It’s one of the curses of being a mother.
But as it turns out, as a ‘damaged’ mother, I might be the perfect guide for my heavy-hearted children.
I’m teaching my son first handed how to make use of his extraterrestrial powers, without a need to blend in. I’m even coaching him in failing and making mistakes without believe it’s the end of the world. I surely acknowledge how important that lesson is. He’ll get it much earlier than I did.
I’m confidently ignoring outsiders’ advice on how to deal with my daughter’s anxieties, since I recognize how she feels. When she’s grieving, I guard her like an eagle that will not allow anyone to question or mock her tears of grief. I’m determined to give her what I never got. I will make her feel loved and understood. Unconditionally.
Me, I’ve only discovered how to find happiness after a painful and lonely journey.
I intend to show my children all the short cuts.
They will have a splendid childhood.
How do you see your own childhood reflected in your children? Is it mostly warm or can it be painful as well?
This is an original post to World Moms Blog by K10K from The Penguin and The Panther.
The picture in this post is credited to the author.
We could be twins! 🙂
I SO relate to all you wrote, and (since my son is now 21 and my daughter 18) I can confidently tell you that you’re absolutely doing the right thing! As “proof” I’m going to share what my daughter posted on my Facebook wall for Mothers’ Day this year:
“Mother’s day is the time when everyone makes a status about how their mom is the best mom in the world. It’s funny how none of us have proof, yet we adamantly declare it as fact.
What makes a mother the best mother?
Her cooking skills? Her soft, warm, comforting hugs? Her protective nature? Her ability to spoil you? Her undying love for you? Her wise, healing words?
What about her flaws?
Her temper? Her mood swings? Her pain? Her nagging? Her embarrassing outbursts in public? Her ability to state and restate the obvious?
To me it is all of it.
The good and the bad that makes my mother so great. Because no matter what, every action is out of thought and care for me.
My mother , sometimes annoyingly so, has dedicated her whole life to the ease of mine.
My mom may not be your typical, all-round house wife, and I have no proof that she is the best mother in the whole world, but I don’t need it,
Because she is everything I have and ever will need of a mother,
and to me she could never get any better. I love you mom,
thank you for being the mother I have always needed you to be”
I believe we don’t get the children we WANT, we get the children we NEED, in order to become the best WE can be. 🙂
Thank you so much Simona! I really really love that text of your daughter! And I really really hope my children will look at me like that, once. And maybe, just maybe write a text like that as well.
And yes, my children definitely force me to become the best I can be. They continuously heal me.
It’s indeed funny how our stories relate! I already recognized myself in your story about your pain. And now it’s the other way round! Thank you, WMB 🙂
This is just beautiful! It is amazing how our children dig up all sorts of our own childhood baggage, but yes, you seem perfectly equipped to help them deal because you understand.
Thanks Elizabeth!
I try not to think in terms of ‘perfect’ anymore, but yes, I might be ‘perfectly’ equipped 😉
It is both. Both daughters share different traits of my personality, between them they make up a nearly complete ‘me’. And which sadly also means having to face my own childhood demons.
An experienced guide is the best one.
Yes, it is both, in my case as well. I try hard not to reflect on only the bad memories. They have good qualities of mine too!
But oh, those childhood demons… Good luck defeating them!
This is so raw and beautiful. I can’t say how much your post resonated with me. I guess it’s about both: when your children have some characteristics of you that you may not like (but then maybe realize they’re actually good characteristics to have), and they may have characteristics that you are not familiar with at all: I guess it shows the paradox of motherhood: they’re us and not us all at the same time. And when we have more children, the mixture of familiar and foreign features varies from child to child, which is also quite confusing I must add.
It haven’t thought of it, because my kids or not both biologically mine, but indeed, it must be a bit odd to find out that different kids have different parts of your own personality. And of course, features you don’t recognize at all, those can maybe be even harder to deal with!
You make a great point — there are limits to what we can provide our kids externally (emotionally and physically), but internally, they will have their own battles, whether similar or different to ours.
I was just on the phone with mom this week and we were discussing how both my toddler and myself as a toddler wouldn’t go to sleep. I watched Dallas and Dynasty at night regularly when they were on at night!
One thing I can change in their childhood — I was an overweight child and got made fun of at school. Today, we know more about nutrition, and my kids eat more healthy foods.
Thought-provoking post, K10K. Thank you!!
Jen 🙂
Yes, they will have to fight their own battles, and that really makes me so sad at times. But indeed, there are things like overweight or low self esteem we càn and will try to change for them and where we will support them in, because we know first handed how important they are
Thank you Katinka for giving me faith that with enough love you can turn even a really sad experience into something beautiful.
Funny indeed how the world perceives a happy childhood…what’s a good mom? I’m an only child, had a mother in a wheelchair, had divorced parents and two homes, was bullied occasionally in primary school… yet I really enjoyed my childhood a lot, got loads of attention and encouragement from my parents, and distinctly remember being the most carefree and joyful kid around. Only now I am beginning to realise how much effort my parents probably put in to achieve that…
Thanks Karen!
Indeed, I believe you parents must have put about all of their energy in raising you to being the carefree child and optimistic person you have become! Chapeau!
And now you can pass that on to the next generation 🙂
This post brought me to tears…I wish I can share with you my own story. Soon I hope.
Simona, I love love love your wisdom: “I believe we don’t get the children we WANT, we get the children we NEED, in order to become the best WE can be.”
Of course you can share your story with me. Sharing makes us stronger!
I really believe ‘reckognition’, as in reckognizing my story in other people’s lives, has been my saviour in a lot of episodes of my life. A lonely struggle is the worst there is.
That sentence: ‘But as it turns out as a damaged mother, I might be the perfect match for my heavy-hearted children.’, That brought me to tears.
I know very well what it is to be a damaged mother.But I am starting to believe that this is the way we see ourselves. From our kids point of view it is completely different. I believe they see that perfect match.
Beautifully written, Katinka!
I love that point of view, Mirjam!
Yes, I should definitely look more through the eyes of my children. Towards myself, but also towards the world!