The Mosaic of Mothering …

As I make my way through all the consumeristic displays that precede Mothering Sunday, I feel compelled to write.

Wherever I look, I’m confronted with cards and displays dressed with captions about the most wonderful mothers.

What about all those for whom this is not the reality, for whatever reason?

Now before I go any further, let me attempt to clarify my position. I believe that mothers and indeed fathers, have THE most important, challenging, testing, demanding, self-sacrificing, potentially heart breaking but equally rewarding job, that any human being can ever have. I really do.

And I regularly see the impact of where things go wrong, within my work.

I have been fortunate enough to have been mothered by various women at different times, in different ways. I am grateful to each. But as I have no children of my own I cannot profess to know what it is to be a mother, because put simply, I don’t. But I have talked with and more importantly listened to, many who are mothers. Whilst these conversations in no way qualify me to know what it is to be a mother, I have often been astounded, impressed, humbled and amazed by many women’s capacity to give to their children. Many offer the gift that just keeps giving.

I’ve noticed that the production of a child (miraculous enough in itself) usually results in the appearance of a mind blowing and seemingly endless supply of resourcefulness that allows a mother to rise to the relentless and varied demands of mothering a child. I’ve been repeatedly struck by the ability of a mother to pretty much turn her hand to anything including the creation of something from virtually nothing, when attempting to meet her child’s needs. This creativity alone is to be applauded. I am in awe!

As such I have the utmost respect for many such mothers in their quest to love, protect and provide for their children.

How women manage to work in addition to the nonstop business of mothering, particularly in the absence of a partner, is quite beyond me. I don’t just throw my hat off to these women, I throw it sky high and beyond. Total respect.

I’ve also noticed that most mothers worry about what they’ve done right, what they could have done differently and any subsequent impact upon their children. I respect their humility, whilst only being able to imagine at the discomfort of considering the inevitability of what doesn’t go so well and how this is managed.

I have the incredible privilege of working with many individuals who are willing and able, with some assistance, to invest their time and energy examining their own unresolved pain from childhood and in doing so, reducing the knock-on effect upon their own children. My respect for these individuals knows no limits.

The truth is that there is no such thing as a perfect mother or parent.

At least not in human form.

We’re all flawed, parent or not.

But as my training has taught me, we all need a good enough mother, especially but not exclusively during our formative years. Of course, what this looks like could be cause for discussion.

What is clear is that mothers deserve acknowledgement and support in recognition of the enormity and importance of their job. I think most of us would agree with the quote about it taking a community to raise a child. I wonder if we would also agree that it equally takes a community, not just a mother, to fail a child.

Therefore, as we enter Mothering Sunday, I consider it right and proper to stop to recognise and celebrate the amazing breed of women who grow, birth, raise and love their children. Absolutely. I don’t imagine any of us non-mothers, female or male, will ever truly appreciate the extent of the sacrifice.

But, is it really necessary when celebrating the monumental gift of mothering, to ignore those aspects of the mosaic of mothering that exist beyond the most wonderful?

Is it even really possible to truly value or appreciate the depth of the gift of mothering whilst only acknowledging part of the picture? Is it not the presence of all parts of a picture that give it meaning and context?

If we can celebrate the gift of mothering, can we not also acknowledge the enormity of the loss when it is absent or has failed?

In reality, Mother’s Day is indeed a joyous occasion for many, but not for all.

Not for those mother’s subject to a parent’s worst nightmare; the death of a child.

Or for those who have been coerced in to giving up their baby at birth and who go on to spend a lifetime longing for a reunion.

Or for those for whom their mother died in childbirth or prematurely from a tragic accident or illness.

And what of the mother who abandons, neglects or abuses her children or allows others to do so. Not to mention the adults those children become. Or for the mother who murders her child. All of which indicate a much bigger society sized issue which require a society shaped response.

The bottom line is that there are many people who just haven’t received adequate mothering, for a whole myriad of reasons, some of which I’ve stated above. This leaves a pain and loss, whose effects can be far reaching to the point of life destroying in the extreme, if left unaddressed. Not least in how we subsequently and often unconsciously, mother ourselves. And whilst we refuse to acknowledge this reality, we fail not only the struggling mother but also their children. The ripple effect of which impacts us all.

Part of the problem is that it is often considered socially unacceptable to even mention the fuller mosaic of mothering. At least openly or publicly. Culture forbids it.

Hence we see Mother’s day becoming seemingly more sugar coated with each passing year. As if somehow, by doing so, we can obscure if not obliterate the wider if more unsavoury reality. In doing this, we further isolate and separate those who not only see but experience the bigger picture, often to their detriment. We also dilute the meaning of truly outstanding mothers. All whilst failing to adequately address the underlying issues that cause severe failures, thus guaranteeing their perpetuation.

Fortunately, it doesn’t have to be this way.

Not if we can update the status of ‘struggling mothers’ from taboo, to ‘utmost importance’.

Before I end, there is another type of mother I consider worthy of a mention and that is those precious women who may not have given birth to us, but who have generously assisted us with the process of giving birth to our truest selves. Not that this process ever really ends.

I know many women who’ve had difficult relationships with their own mothers for all manner of reasons but who have also connected deeply with other women with whom they have formed special, maternal bonds. An especially precious union which benefits both.

Within my own life, I feel fortunate to have been mothered by a few over the years. But I shall remain especially grateful to the one who showed me over the best part of the last decade, what it is to be on the receiving end of the type of unconditional love that protected, encouraged, enjoyed, believed in and loved me, in spite of myself. For she remains a gift that only God Himself could have given. And as God Himself also took her away again earlier this year, I will grieve her recent death and her ongoing absence this Mother’s Day. But I will equally remember and treasure the gift of her love which lives on within me.

Equally, I shall mourn the impact of the unresolved generational issues surrounding mothering within my own family.

Both are real and true.

They do not cancel one another out.

They coexist.

And both have taught me much.

In summary, Mother’s Day can never offer one meaning for all when there is so much that makes up the mosaic of mothering.

Let us not reduce this Mother’s Day to a one-dimensional affair that excludes many whilst reducing the depth, context and meaning of any of it.

Let us each take the time this Mother’s Day to identify, recognise, appreciate and acknowledge the mothering we have each received, wherever it may have come from.

For it is truly a gift and not a given.

But let us equally acknowledge the pain for many of its absence.