Often, once we have had children, we become the experts, and any advice our Mothers give us becomes old hat. Pooh Poohed at, rubbished and fodder for coffee group sessions- “you’ll never guess what my mother told me to do…”
I’m the first to put my hand up and say guilty as charged. My own Mother has said some absolute pearlers, however she always finished off those incredible words of wisdom with “well, that was what we did in our day, anyway. It’s all different now.” Her way of conceding that perhaps, her way wasn’t the right way, but she too had been there.
Really, though, not that much has changed. We still birth our babies out of the same place (or the sunroof, which was a bit larger 35 years ago, but still a sunroof), we still nurture our babies with our bodies, or prepare our milk formulas with the same care and attention to measure, still pace the hall in the middle of the night with our little insomniacs, and become insomniacs ourselves when they do sleep all night. We still cry when we can’t fix their hurt, laugh when they discover some exciting new thing, and love with all our hearts even though sometimes we have to look very deep for that love. We delight in their outfits, coo over curls and want to eat up the cubby legs and arms of the “bonny” babies. We remember every moment of the birth, first smile, word, step, and as each birthday passes we go back and forth with pride that we have made this beautiful amazing little person and sadness that every year they get older, they move a little further out of our laps.
The advice from the experts may have changed somewhat, we may feed our children solids later and toilet train later, we may use more man made fibres on our little angels who must be slept on their backs, and use daycare centres more and families less. Our coffee groups may have become our new families, but one thing remains the same. All we need is love. All THEY need is love. Regardless of if we parented in the 70’s or we are parenting now, we have experienced the same heartaches and joy that our mothers and mother in laws also experiences, and that newly deepened bond is something that lasts a lifetime. My own dear Mother shifted to the other end of the Island a week ago. Very sick and frail, about to lose a leg to diabetes, she wanted to “share” the ever increasing burden of her care with her sister, two brothers and my brother, as here in Blenheim there had only been myself and my wee crew. The Elves miss her terribly, the smallest one is reduced to hysterical crying if anyone so much as mentions her dear “Hiya” and the biggest Elf keeps asking if we can go to the airport and get “Hiya” back off the plane now.
As I sat here today, over deadline, staring at this blank word document I got a phone call that shook me to my core. My dear mother had collapsed in a chemist somewhere at the other end of this island. Her heart had stopped beating and she had to be brought back to life with those paddles I have only seen on ER.
So waiting for news, I only have this to say. Laugh with your mother over her insistence that you were toilet trained at 9 months old, sleeping all night at 4 weeks and never had tantrums, but thank her for all the times she sat with up through the night when you were sick, hugged you when you got teased at school, kissed your scraped knees and loved your babies with all her heart, because YOU are her heart.
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