Did Having a Child Make You Closer to Your Mom?

Going into card stores around Mother's Day had always been such a challenge. Hallmark doesn't offer a card that says, "Mom, you really let me down. Why didn't you do a better job?"

Instead the display of cards are full of praise for perfect mothers, mothers who didn't neglect gymnastics practice because she wasn't interested in the sport, picked up their kid on time and even took interest in Homeroom 101. These were the mothers who deserved the cards that read, "I Love You More Than Anyone."

For years, I felt like a fraud if I bought those sugarcoated cards because my relationship with my mother was anything but sweet. It was tinged with anger, disappointment and regret.

As a compromise, I would settle on the blandest that simply declared, "Happy Mother's Day," and then we would go through our familiar ritual. The card, The flowers. The thank-you. The silent dinner where nothing important was ever discussed.

Throughout the years, my mother would sigh during one of our many fights and declare, "Our relationship will change when you have kids."

It certainly came as a surprise that she was right.

Now there are times when it doesn't matter that she hasn't read Dostoyevsky as long as she can recite from Dr. Spock. Remedies for sore throats, teething pain cures and debates over the nutritional merits of fresh or bottled applesauce have opened a dialogue I never thought could exist.

And then there is something else.

Good manners and good sense prohibit me from gushing to friends about my son's every little milestone, which of course are the same as any other child's, but to me and my mother they are miraculous wonders of life.

Whether it's muttering some sound which hopefully will one day resemble English or hitting his first baseball, my mother can be relied on to say, "Oh, isn't that cute."

Then there are those times when my son has awakened in the middle of the night feeling sick for no apparent reason and I'm struck by the realization that my mother also must have had sleepless nights where she too, was unsure of what to do and somehow managed to find a solution.

It is these times that link me to her, for both of us are now mothers, two women who at long last have found something in common.

Part of the problem has been generational. I am of a generation of daughters who identified more with Dad than Mom, girls who wanted thriving careers, financial independence and veto power, girls who cared little about the nuances of Picasso or Prada. The battleground was set because I didn't respect what she valued and could teach me.

Instead, I cared about books, politics, sports and interesting debates about the issues of the day, topics that made her the outsider.

But part of the problem was also Mom. While she always made sure our clothes were clean, our education first-rate and our manners impeccable, she never paid any attention to our emotional lives, believing as she often said that children should be seen and not heard. Instead, she catered to my father and his needs and the social life they pursued. We often felt as valued as her Wedgewood vase on the foyer table. We were just another accessory in her life that she dusted off and displayed when needed.

Now, as the friends that she cared so much about have disappeared and she wants to spend more time with her children, she realizes she made a mistake. "It was our generation," she now explains to justify so many wrongs.

I want to say, "Look at Michele Obama's mother, Marion Robinson, who clearly had her priorities straight and devoted herself to her husband and children. That's not an excuse." But I'm long past comparing and now think of what we have vs. what we don't.

Recently we took my son to the Central Park Zoo, and my mother commented on how she used to take me there many years ago.

I didn't remember her teaching me the magic of why birds eat with beaks instead of heart-shaped lips or debating whether a cougar could run quicker than a tiger. But as she stared into the distance, reminiscing about life as she saw it, I realized she was thinking back to another time, a time when she could dress her little girl in frilly dresses and believe that I would turn into a mirror image of herself. Instead, the child could not be more different.

But my son is oblivious to these differences, as the innocent always are. When he pets a baby goat, my boy giggles in delight and looks at these two women for approval.

"I love that boy so much," my mother declared. "I do too," I replied.

In that moment, I realize that my son has been the catalyst for a new relationship between my mother and me. For my mother, he's the opportunity to start afresh, to make up for some of her mistakes, to relive moments that she truly missed. For me, I can now be the mother I always wanted.

But as we sit on the bench at the zoo, I wonder what my son will think of me 30 years from now when he brings my grandchild here. Will he think his mother was fun, loving and inventive but too involved in his life? Will he still be as enthusiastic over my red hot buffalo wings and chocolate chip cookies? If something rocks our family, will I have been strong enough to maintain his respect?

Looking back, most of my friends have their complaints about their own mothers too. Jennifer's mom is too critical. Shari's is too superficial. Mary finds her mother meddlesome and nosy while many lately complain that their mothers won't babysit their grandchildren as they had hoped. I wish my mother would embrace my stepdaughters and love them like I do.

But maybe the perfect mom is an ideal and rarely a reality.

In the end, I guess we do the best job we know how. My mother truly loves my son and for that I love her more than I ever thought I could. My son has opened my heart to love not only him, but also her.

Comments

[TrenchCoat]

Thanks for sharing, Jill. I read your piece just after calling my Mom, who at 95 remains the matriarch of a very large extended group of family and friends -- and a wonderful and loving person.

[Barbara Slaine]

This wonderfully candid article had a profound effect on me in many ways. I never had the opportunity to have a relationship with my mother through my children since she died of ovarian cancer when my son Spencer was two years old. Upon reflection we were starting to establish a different relationship through her role as a grandmother. It was so sad that as he approached two years old she was dying and would make a pact with god to let her live so she could be a grandmother. Her desire to live which was fueled by my son was bittersweet. I will never know what possibilities existed between us but I know they were many. On that note I would suggest no matter how tainted the relationship try and expand the possibilities of a new relationship through the children. Remember the gift of grandparents to your children is huge and by holding on to grudges not only are you denying yourself the possibility of forgiveness ,which is huge ,but you are denying them the right to experience your parents as their grandparents which is a precious gift.

[Catriona]

My mother always was, and still is, a selfish, narcissistic b*tch. The birth of my children changed only one aspect of our relationship: she now could accuse me of being a terrible mother.

[jalyn]

Yes, those Mother's Day cards are made for half the population of children who had great mothers. But for the other half, Mother's day and holdays are a difficult time to get through when mom couldn't be all that a mother can be. So, for half of North American society, anyway, there's a lot of pain to go around on this day.

As we get older, we will realize that our parents handled us with the tools they were given, and for me, am trying to be understanding and let it go. In fact, the dysfunction had one positive effect in that it prevented me from repeating the same negative abuse with my own kids. Nice to hear of good outcomes here, am sure there are plenty.

[Beauhanks]

My mother was depressed my entire life, never could be happy for any success I had. And when I had a son, she wasn't particularly interested. She never sent birthday or Christmas presents (I wrapped things up myself, and put them under the tree, so my son would feel loved ... how pathetic is that?). And then she died. Now my son is having a baby... with his girlfriend ... on public assistance, because they earn so little in their work. I knew my son was not going to remember me on Mother's Day. He rarely has, unless he wanted a loan. But I wrote him and reminded him to do something for his girlfriend. Perhaps he'll appreciate what I did for him all these years, once he has a child of his own.

[leigh84]

l really like this article. I do not have any children yet, but I have witnessed this change in relationship between mother and child once there is a grandchild in the picture and your observations appear to be very accurate in most cases. I am so glad to hear that having a son has brought you closer to your own mother, and what a wonderful thing to look forward to!

[ohfarr]

Thanks for this Jill and Happy Mothers Day! Like you, I felt much closer to my mother once I had a child. Since she was so uncomfortable talking about boyfriends, sex and how the female body works, once she was a grandmother, we found safe and delightful conversation in the how to's of child-rearing. I viewed her with great new respect remembering how she saved my life by rushing me to the hospital instead of listening to the doctor's conservative advice to give me aspirin and let me sleep. Or when she dove into the pond to rescue my floundering son while I stood shocked and frozen and delayed in my response. Many moments like these re-attach that umbilical cord and make us grateful for our mothers who like us, are far from perfect.