I am finally the mother of adult children. I mean, that’s been technically true for over a decade, if 21 marks an adult. But it’s only now, my son having turned 32 in April and my daughter heading toward 35 in July, that they feel like full-on grownups to me.
What I mean is that they have the cognitive and emotional structures of beings to whom I would turn for friendship. Even counsel. And yet I imagine that I am for them, as my mother was for me, a bringer of memories and the comfort that comes before thinking, nestled in among the adult conversations. It’s been a little over three years since my mother died. Every time certain memories rise up–of her voice, the feel of her hair or how she put her cheek against my chin when she hugged me–I feel that mother-ness in force.
Re-casting my relationships with my own children over the years has been more complex and profound than I ever would’ve guessed. And I’m pretty much sure I’m not done with the process. I used to say, thinking I’d learned something, your baby is your Buddha. I’m laughing at myself as I write. And let’s just say that intimate relationships can be a place if you’re willing, to forge and re-forge yourself. All metal process apply. Annealing.
But I wanted children from the time my mother brought my baby sister home from the hospital. Mom would sit on the chaise longue, wearing, I swear, a pink peignoir of some sort, nursing her newborn. Either a light glowed around them or the sun came through the windows in my parents’ bedroom perfectly every single afternoon. I had no idea what I was getting into; I had almost no idea what I was doing; and it remains the central experience of my life.
I wish that everyone who knows motherhood is not for them, not now or not ever, just for today or also tomorrow, can be supported in their choice. I wish for a system that brings the most good to the most people. And I wish that anyone who has ever wanted to be a mother, whether it happens biologically, legally or simply by intent of care towards with friends and other family, has that chance.
In case anyone was wondering, I do not support the Supreme Court’s draft decision. I’m guessing you knew.
Wishing, finally, for your good weekends.
8 Responses
Happy Mother’s Day, Lisa! Thank you, as always, for brightening my Saturday. I hope you have an absolutely beautiful weekend. <3
You are so welcome. Thank you for hanging out with me.
Thanks for this. I as one of those people who never felt motherhood would be the right path to take — but I certainly support any choice a woman wants or needs to make in this realm. Happy Mother’s Day to all!
What a lovely reply. Thank you.
What a beautiful post. I wish you and everyone who reads a very Happy Mother’s Day, as I do feel, woman are “mothers” in many forms, whether you have children or not. And a Happy Mother’s Day to Earth, the mother to us all – may we treat her more kindly going forward.
Yes, to Mother Earth as well, and all the mothering we all do. Thank you.
Such a lovely image of your mother nursing your newborn sister.
I have a similar memory of a neighbor, Bonnie, nursing an
infant a girl she never had a daughter and later killed herself. I loved her and she made me tuna fish sandwiches.
Happy Mother’s Day,
Luci
Ah, Luci, that sounds like a visitation, or a vision you had. Thank you.
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