Oh, Mother
Pin gifted by Evangeline.
To say that I have a complex mix of feelings about Mother’s Day seems obvious. I mean, who doesn’t?
At least that’s the impression I got from looking at my social media feeds from last week, and this weekend. Celebrations bring up loss. And comparison. Sometimes they feel like a display of “look what I’ve got, and you don’t.”
But why is Mother’s Day simple for anyone? I don’t think it should be.
I love kids. I love my kids! But I also love a whole lot of things that being a caregiver made it harder to do. That’s a fact. I applaud the women who’ve chosen not to add children into their lives. I’m not saying that I would advise people not to become mothers—but (if asked) I’d damn-well recommend doing the math.
I never did. I wanted kids very much, and I tend to run headlong toward things I want, without checking for traffic. And if I had it to do all over again, the truth is…I would do it all over again.
But I hate the assumption that I—or any mother—sees mothering as her “most important role” or “greatest contribution” or “greatest joy.” I hear people say this about other mothers. I’ve heard it said about me.
Usually, I just smile. Try to focus on the fact that these comments don’t come from people who know me very well. These people mean it—I tell myself through gritted teeth—as a compliment.
Then I go home and complain.
I have expounded on this topic so often that when the inevitable primacy of motherhood shows up in some woman’s obituary, or eulogy, all I have to do is look at my husband for him to say, “I won’t. I promise…”
Maybe that remembered woman did look back on her life and think mothering was her best offering. But did anyone ask? Or did they just assume? Perhaps they felt it necessary to paint over her memory, in order to make her seem worthy.
Why do we equate being a loved and loving mother, with being a mother first? With being a mother above all?
Almost every time I’ve been interviewed or appeared on a panel of writers, I’ve been asked about juggling writing with parenthood. Yes, this is something I’ve had to do. Yes, my writing hours have been impacted by the hours taken up in parenting. On the other hand, having children also propelled me to write. It’s not like these are things I haven’t thought about. But I don’t think about them all the time. And—with a few specific exceptions—it’s not what my work is about. And yet, moderators and audiences feel these are questions that simply must be asked.
This is rarely presented as a hot topic when it’s male writers on stage. Why is that? Because we know that, in general, women still bear more of the work of parenting? Or is it because we assume that women’s writing can’t be separated from their mother-selves? That, if we aren’t asked about our kids and how we manage to write and care for them, we’ll run out of things to say?
I think about these things on Mother’s Day, while getting (and giving!) the flowers and the phone calls and the cards—Which I love. Which I crave—and feel conflicted. On a day devoted to the role, can we really see the person we’re supposedly celebrating? On Mother’s Day, and every day, I wish we would remember that there’s more to all of us.
P.S: A few things I mined this celebratory weekend…
Eleanor Wachtel’s Writers & Company interview with the late Nuala O’Faolain, who talks about middle age without motherhood. This interview gets five stars, and another five should go to whoever decided to rerun it on Mother’s Day.
Monica Hesse in the Washington Post on the pervasive sexist attitudes around male genius, as evidenced in the (now-pulled) biography of Philip Roth. (No time? Skip to her excellent Twitter thread)
Nam Kiwanuka for TVO on the difference between celebrating Mother’s Day and giving mothers what they need. (Via Hannah Sung’s At the End of the Day)
Poet and book conservator Christine McNair’s fundraising for Preeclampsia Canada’s Promise Walk. Christine had preeclampsia in both her pregnancies, and continues to experience serious health consequences. You can donate to Christine’s team as they walk for patient education, public awareness and research to reduce maternal and infant illness and mortality.