Shared this a few places already, but cannot resist sharing it here, Jeannie. Thanks for the article an for being a good parent, we need that more than ever...
A group of professional people posed this question to a group of 4 to 8 year-olds, "What does love mean?" The answers they got were broader and deeper than anyone could have imagined. See what you think:
"When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love." Rebecca - age 8
"When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth." Billy - age 4
"Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and snuggle together." Karl - age 5
"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs." Chrissy - age 6
"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired." Terri - age 4
"Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him to make sure the taste is OK." Danny - age 7
"Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My Mommy and Daddy are like that." Emily - age 8
"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen,". Bobby - age 7
"If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend whom you hate." Nikka - age 6
"Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, and he then wears it every day." Noelle - age 7
"Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well." Tommy - age 6
"During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore." Cindy - age 8
"My mommy loves me more than anybody. You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night." Clare - age 6
"Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken." Elaine - age 5
"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford." Chris - age 7
"Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day." Mary Ann - age 4
"I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones." Lauren - age 4
"When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you." Karen - age 7
"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget." Jessica - age 8
And the final one:
Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge. The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child. The winner was a four-year-old child whose next-door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there. When his mother asked him what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said:
I thought I wanted children. I ended up having none.
you know this, I could counter this article with the polar opposite.
How I taught high school and had over 100 kids a year, and loved the fact that I could give them back at the end of the day.
How my first husband wasn't "fatherly" and I knew I would end up resenting him, single-parenting, and divorcing (which happened anyway).
How I married a man with two kids, and never had the chance to be the "stepmom" because parent alienation and child estrangement is a thing no one really talks about.
How I tried to adopt a teenager in my 40s and was brutalized by a broken system that tried to ruin my reputation in the eyes of the court and cost me legal and therapy fees.
In fact, maybe you could write a guest post for my Substack about this? It is a perfect paradox to my essay today. You say so much in just this comment. Something to think about. The invitation is open.
Yes, of course. I'd be honored. maybe around Mother's Day? This challenge always gets a little raw for me around Mother's Day and that's when I feel called to write about it the most.
I appreciated your reflection on how your perception of having children changed. Fear of the unknown or experience to give me confidence was my issue. I was raised by people who should not have had children. I was aware of a lack of socialization and knowing I didn't quite fit in, but not knowing why. My fear was repeating the pattern. I didn't hear the words, "I'm proud of you.", until I was 29 years old. At that point, it meant nothing. I educated myself the best I could at the library, and watched various parenting programs. I already knew what NOT to do. My two children heard how much I loved them every day. They knew I was their advocate and would always support them. They knew how proud I was of them and that they could trust me. I was the mom that cried on every first day of school because I liked them home with me. Like you, I love being a mother. They are grown and on their own, and I now have a wonderful granddaughter that I try not to spoil too badly. They make sure I know how much they love me, so I must have done something right. If I could go back and do it all again, I would in a heartbeat. They grow up too fast!
Sharlene, thank you for this level of vulnerable sharing in my Substack space today. I want you to know that, as I read, I was holding your story in my heart. It hurts to not receive the love we needed as children, and I am also seeing how you are a cycle breaker with the way you are raising your own children. That speaks to your character and to your ability to invest in the difficult and often painful healing work necessary to get to a place where you can give to your children a healthier parent than what you were raised with as a child. Kudos.
Thank you so much, friend. My heart always skips a beat when I see your name pop up. It means so much to have a personal connection with a soul sister like you. Sending you love.
I was thirty when I married. As a pediatric nurse that loved working in a Pediatric intensive care unit (PICU-pronounced pick u) I had no need or real desire to become a mother. But my husband very much wanted girls.
His generation was the first generation in the past seven generations that had a female live to adulthood.
I tried to talk him out of it. I was so certain that if I had children, one would have Down syndrome. He used math to convince me of the low probability.
I finally said yes as long as we had children before I turned 35 when the 1 in 700 chance became a 1 in 100 chance.
I was 34 when I had Sheila.
I leapt off the cliff again at 37 when I had our last daughter. Some folks asked how I dared have another child.
I was just as sure she would be fine, as I was sure one of my daughter's would have DS. Sheila was already born.
My hubby was one of four boys. His brother's all have sons--we are the only one that have only daughters.
It always amazes me how women navigate the challenges of deciding if, how, when and all the other unknowns of motherhood. The challenges are enormous, the loneliness, the loss of self that can occur are hard, even for women that wanted motherhood beyond all else in life.
It is not an easy path in life. But then... perhaps there are compensations as well.
Nancy, this was such a powerful story you shared. So powerful.
As I read, I was struck at how you had this sort of premonition that you would have a daughter with Down syndrome. And you did.
I can also relate to the insensitive comments people make when you have more children AFTER giving birth to a child with a disability. As if you don’t have a right to choose to have more kids. As if it should be a “given” that once you bring a child with a disability in the world, it all becomes “too much” and that means that a) you should be focusing your exclusive, undivided attention ONLY on that child’s needs and/or b) disability is synonymous with “burden,” as in burden on society.
Those are my impressions from my own experience.
My heart felt a deep connection with what you said about how complicated motherhood is and how painful everything can be surrounding the decision to have kids, not to have kids, when or how many kids, etc. We get blamed for so much, scapegoated by our culture, and yet the expectations placed upon mothers is almost an impossible standard. Seems we can’t get it right, no matter what we do or don’t do.
Yes! It’s so hurtful that there’s this covert societal message that tells everyone raising a child with a disability means THEY are a burden when it’s not true. And it’s dehumanizing!
I was an only child but I always knew that I wanted to be a mom so I went to school for early childhood education so I could work with little ones. I worked with infants and toddlers until I was pregnant with my first and staying home made more sense financially. I was thinking of going back to work when she was in school when we got hit with a huge surprise, great surprise but no one was expecting her! 😆 I’ve loved being their mom, I really feel like I’m living my dream.
Thanks for sharing that, Stephanie. I love hearing from other moms about their lived experience of motherhood, because they are all so drastically different. I guess in a way I have grieved, off and on through the years, the fact that I wanted to be this domestic maven who loved staying home with her kids all day, but I didn’t. There was a patch of about a year when we had Felicity and Sarah and they were both little, and I relished every second with them. I truly thrived as a mom at home with my girls back then. But then we moved and had three more kids in three years, and I fell into a dark spell of postpartum depression that only recently have I recovered from.
I had pretty serious PPD after my first but with my husband who stepped in to do everything I was struggling with and a amazing doctor, I was thankfully able to pull through it. And at first I was sad that I wasn’t able to have my babies close together, I thought if I was ever lucky enough to have another one, they wouldn’t be close, they wouldn’t be connected but they’re 8 years apart and the best of friends so I know someone must be looking out for us.
I hear you, Stephanie, and I’m glad you had an amazing doctor to help you navigate PPD. It’s interesting when we talk about spacing our children, isn’t it? Everyone seems to have this ideal zone of how many years they want their kids apart, but it seldom seems to work out that way. Between Felicity and Sarah is about 2.5 years, which felt good to me, but between Sarah and Veronica there’s a 4-year gap, which I didn’t want but that’s what happened. Then between Veronica and Joey there’s not quite 2 years, and only a year between Joey and Auggie, which is what put me over the edge.
Thank you for this honest reflection. I'm sure you've spoken truth to many fears with this, including my own. And shown us that we are all capable to rising to our challenges.
Thanks, Nancy. It’s lovely to see your comment under an essay I wrote a while back. I’m realizing the conversations surrounding motherhood/womanhood are complex and fraught. There are so many layers, aren’t there?
I always find you to be a remarkable human being & most importantly… an incredible, patient & loving mom… always, Jeannie! You deserve the best in life & so does your wonderful family… You should be an inspiration to all women, those w/children or not…The world is a better place w/you in it!💙💕
Wow, thank you for that affirmation, Sheryl! That means a lot. Sometimes I do need to be reminded of what you said here. I’m so glad you shared this and took time out of your day to tell me what I needed.
Thank you for being so honest and open about your experience as a mother. I’m sure that you’ve learned a lot from raising five children and made some mistakes along the way. But that’s a part of being human, facing our challenges and fears and emerging battered and bruised but not ever broken. God bless you and your lovely family. (BTW, I’ve known a few Wiccans and New Agers in my time, but never any dyed-in-the-wool Satanists. That sounds like a total trip!)
Thanks for your comment, Rafael. I always appreciate hearing from you. Yes, that’s a lovely perspective—that when we face our challenges and fears, we can emerge battered and bruised but never broken. Absolutely beautiful. Thank you. (Yes, I’m struggling to recall the name of the guy who was openly Satanist, but I knew it at one time.)
Loved reading your story of becoming a mother. Mine was practically the opposite in terms of family size and culture (I'm one of 40 grandkids, as my mom is one of 10 siblings.) I had plenty of visual experience of nursing moms, babies being taken care of, etc. But as the youngest in my immediate family, I didn't get much hands-on experience myself. My oldest sister, who spent every possible minute taking care of baby cousins, got all the experience and thought it was funny that when I had my first baby I didn't know how to give a baby a bath. Oh, well! Hadn't done it!! Still, I was immersed in a family culture that included lots of babies, so I had this innate confidence that it's just what you do and you CAN do it. So interesting to me what shapes each person's perspectives on any particular topic. Thank you for sharing yours.
Oh wow, Kyle, how fortunate you were to grow up around babies and acquire this sort motherhood by osmosis. It sounds like you witnessed the reality of holding and caring for an infant and went into the choices you made to become a mother with that level of knowledge. I’m so glad there are people who have that experience, and I remain baffled that I didn’t. In many ways, I feel foolish and embarrassed and even angry that I went into motherhood blindly, naively. But here I am, learning as I go. I guess that’s what all of us end up doing, anyway, right?
Yes, exactly what we're all doing anyway. One way or another finding our way. There are things we don't know and things we think we know, and things we have to unlearn along the way. No matter where we start.
My experience was the opposite of yours Jeannie. I always wanted to be a mom and I was surprised when I got pregnant as a 21 year old senior in college. Ended up getting married and having 2 beautiful sons. My boys kept me sane through my sister’s death and my dad’s suicide. As they got older my life revolved around them so when my marriage ended and they were grown, my life became stagnant. It’s strange how children can be our saving grace even though they don’t realize it. Now I’m fortunate enough that grandchildren have been added to the family and that’s an entirely different story. Again I thank you for sharing your inner most thoughts and baring your soul to us.
That’s really beautiful, Sue, and I’m so happy you shared your experience of motherhood, even though it differs from mine. That’s the thing, though—everyone’s experience of motherhood is unique. Your wisdom that our children can be our saving grace even though they don’t realize hits home for me today. I feel that way about our youngest son Auggie, because I became pregnant with him unexpectedly and struggled the entire pregnancy. But he saved my life in many ways. I kept going because of him. I wanted him to know his life mattered to me.
Jeannie, your honesty about fearing you'd "screw up" any kids you might have really struck a chord with me. It's like you pulled a thought right out of my own head and put it on paper. It's something that has been echoing in my head.
I left a marriage because I wanted kids. And yet, once in a while, I get riddled with anxiety about having kids. Because I truly worry I'm going to screw them up.
That anxiety, that heavy weight of responsibility, it's something I think many of us grapple with, whether we admit it or not. It’s this strange paradox, wanting something so deeply but being terrified of not being good enough at it.
You articulate it beautifully in this essay, how those childhood messages, even the subtle ones, can echo in our minds and shape our perceptions of ourselves. The journey you describe, from that fear to embracing motherhood and learning alongside your children, is incredibly inspiring. It reminds me that growth often comes from facing those very fears head-on, not by avoiding them.
Wow, Alex, I really appreciate you saying that. It gives such rich context to your life as I’m coming to know you more. Thank you.
Parenthood is complicated. I think we do bring our old childhood fears and wounds into the families we create. I’m thinking more about this, too, because the comments have been so deep and meaningful and I’m realizing there’s so much more to say.
I do go into a lot of the conflicting feelings I had about becoming a mom in my memoir…which has yet to be published. But from what I am reading in the comments on this essay alone, I believe even more that my story will really speak to a lot of people.
Ah, thanks for writing so honestly and authentically as always. I qlso experienced postpartum depression and all those conflicting feelings about motherhood. 💜
Thanks for sharing that, Julie. It seems to me that many moms feel a sort of ambivalence about motherhood. At least from what many have shared with me.
As usual, this is a beautiful piece of writing. I laughed when I read the part about the babysitting fail with the poopy diaper you refused to change. I recalled my two daughers and my niece were in the back of the van (aged 7, 8, 10) while my sister changed the 3 year old's poopy diaper on the grass. The 3 girls were pinky swearing in the back that they would NEVER change poopy diapers. That would be a job for their husbands. Want to guess how that turned out?
Let me see…your girls ended up changing LOTS of poopy diapers? HAHAHA! Thanks, as always, Jane, for your support and for sharing my writing. I’m relieved each week when I hear that something I wrote hits home. Motherhood is messy and unpredictable and often leaves us feeling conflicted about what we think we “should” feel and what we actually feel or experience.
P.S. I have a longer version of the babysitting job that I deleted from my memoir. It’s humorous and I’m toying with the idea of making it into a Substack post.
Mmmmm, I love this Jeannie: "it is my purpose to guide them through the brutality and beauty, so that they can discover what resilience meant to them—just as I am learning about myself." What resilience means TO THEM! Yes, this, and it's so damn hard as a mom to faithfully follow through on this. We want to infuse them with our hard-earned resilience (or at least, I do)- or, I think that if I just talk to her about what resilience means, she'll get to skip over the hard face-in-the-mud part. Sigh. If only it was so easy. Thank you for this tender reminder!
You make such an important point, Kendall, and I think motherhood is just complicated. It seems like most of us have conflicting feelings about it, and at least for me, a lot of that stems from the way I was mothered (or wasn’t) and the way my relationship with my own mom plays out.
It seems to me that the fact that you recognize your subconscious influence about resilience influences your daughter and then you step back to examine that—well, that speaks volumes about your personal growth and pathway to healing. I commend you for that. Thank you for showing up in my space today and for your heart offering.
Shared this a few places already, but cannot resist sharing it here, Jeannie. Thanks for the article an for being a good parent, we need that more than ever...
A group of professional people posed this question to a group of 4 to 8 year-olds, "What does love mean?" The answers they got were broader and deeper than anyone could have imagined. See what you think:
"When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love." Rebecca - age 8
"When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth." Billy - age 4
"Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and snuggle together." Karl - age 5
"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs." Chrissy - age 6
"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired." Terri - age 4
"Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him to make sure the taste is OK." Danny - age 7
"Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My Mommy and Daddy are like that." Emily - age 8
"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen,". Bobby - age 7
"If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend whom you hate." Nikka - age 6
"Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, and he then wears it every day." Noelle - age 7
"Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well." Tommy - age 6
"During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore." Cindy - age 8
"My mommy loves me more than anybody. You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night." Clare - age 6
"Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken." Elaine - age 5
"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford." Chris - age 7
"Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day." Mary Ann - age 4
"I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones." Lauren - age 4
"When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you." Karen - age 7
"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget." Jessica - age 8
And the final one:
Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge. The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child. The winner was a four-year-old child whose next-door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there. When his mother asked him what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said:
"Nothing, I just helped him cry."
Share link: https://substack.com/@tritorch/note/c-110313722
Oh, yes, I have read this sweet list before. Thanks for sharing it again today!
I thought I wanted children. I ended up having none.
you know this, I could counter this article with the polar opposite.
How I taught high school and had over 100 kids a year, and loved the fact that I could give them back at the end of the day.
How my first husband wasn't "fatherly" and I knew I would end up resenting him, single-parenting, and divorcing (which happened anyway).
How I married a man with two kids, and never had the chance to be the "stepmom" because parent alienation and child estrangement is a thing no one really talks about.
How I tried to adopt a teenager in my 40s and was brutalized by a broken system that tried to ruin my reputation in the eyes of the court and cost me legal and therapy fees.
And ultimately how I surrendered, and I grieve.
and in grief. I love.
Teri Leigh, I just love you.
In fact, maybe you could write a guest post for my Substack about this? It is a perfect paradox to my essay today. You say so much in just this comment. Something to think about. The invitation is open.
Yes, of course. I'd be honored. maybe around Mother's Day? This challenge always gets a little raw for me around Mother's Day and that's when I feel called to write about it the most.
Absolutely. I’m on your timeline for your story, Teri Leigh. :) Take the time you need.
I appreciated your reflection on how your perception of having children changed. Fear of the unknown or experience to give me confidence was my issue. I was raised by people who should not have had children. I was aware of a lack of socialization and knowing I didn't quite fit in, but not knowing why. My fear was repeating the pattern. I didn't hear the words, "I'm proud of you.", until I was 29 years old. At that point, it meant nothing. I educated myself the best I could at the library, and watched various parenting programs. I already knew what NOT to do. My two children heard how much I loved them every day. They knew I was their advocate and would always support them. They knew how proud I was of them and that they could trust me. I was the mom that cried on every first day of school because I liked them home with me. Like you, I love being a mother. They are grown and on their own, and I now have a wonderful granddaughter that I try not to spoil too badly. They make sure I know how much they love me, so I must have done something right. If I could go back and do it all again, I would in a heartbeat. They grow up too fast!
Sharlene, thank you for this level of vulnerable sharing in my Substack space today. I want you to know that, as I read, I was holding your story in my heart. It hurts to not receive the love we needed as children, and I am also seeing how you are a cycle breaker with the way you are raising your own children. That speaks to your character and to your ability to invest in the difficult and often painful healing work necessary to get to a place where you can give to your children a healthier parent than what you were raised with as a child. Kudos.
Sharlene, as I read this the words "I am proud of you" fiercely rose up inside of me. You broke the pattern. You grew love. Go you! I am proud of you.
You are such an encourager, Melanie. Truly.
You have made me cry and laugh here Jeannie! What a beautiful reflection!
Thank you so much, friend. My heart always skips a beat when I see your name pop up. It means so much to have a personal connection with a soul sister like you. Sending you love.
I always read you! But I’m a bit slower now with all the things Inhave to get done before my trip…
Oh wow, I have no expectations on when/if people read my work, friend. Just happy to have you here when you are able to show up!
I was thirty when I married. As a pediatric nurse that loved working in a Pediatric intensive care unit (PICU-pronounced pick u) I had no need or real desire to become a mother. But my husband very much wanted girls.
His generation was the first generation in the past seven generations that had a female live to adulthood.
I tried to talk him out of it. I was so certain that if I had children, one would have Down syndrome. He used math to convince me of the low probability.
I finally said yes as long as we had children before I turned 35 when the 1 in 700 chance became a 1 in 100 chance.
I was 34 when I had Sheila.
I leapt off the cliff again at 37 when I had our last daughter. Some folks asked how I dared have another child.
I was just as sure she would be fine, as I was sure one of my daughter's would have DS. Sheila was already born.
My hubby was one of four boys. His brother's all have sons--we are the only one that have only daughters.
It always amazes me how women navigate the challenges of deciding if, how, when and all the other unknowns of motherhood. The challenges are enormous, the loneliness, the loss of self that can occur are hard, even for women that wanted motherhood beyond all else in life.
It is not an easy path in life. But then... perhaps there are compensations as well.
Nancy, this was such a powerful story you shared. So powerful.
As I read, I was struck at how you had this sort of premonition that you would have a daughter with Down syndrome. And you did.
I can also relate to the insensitive comments people make when you have more children AFTER giving birth to a child with a disability. As if you don’t have a right to choose to have more kids. As if it should be a “given” that once you bring a child with a disability in the world, it all becomes “too much” and that means that a) you should be focusing your exclusive, undivided attention ONLY on that child’s needs and/or b) disability is synonymous with “burden,” as in burden on society.
Those are my impressions from my own experience.
My heart felt a deep connection with what you said about how complicated motherhood is and how painful everything can be surrounding the decision to have kids, not to have kids, when or how many kids, etc. We get blamed for so much, scapegoated by our culture, and yet the expectations placed upon mothers is almost an impossible standard. Seems we can’t get it right, no matter what we do or don’t do.
I’m with you. Sending you love.
And sending love back to. I knew you would understand the complexities of parenting multiple children, one of whom has a disability.
The reality is I never felt excessively burdened by Sheila's needs.
I have felt burdened by the expectations and judgements from others.
Yes! It’s so hurtful that there’s this covert societal message that tells everyone raising a child with a disability means THEY are a burden when it’s not true. And it’s dehumanizing!
I was an only child but I always knew that I wanted to be a mom so I went to school for early childhood education so I could work with little ones. I worked with infants and toddlers until I was pregnant with my first and staying home made more sense financially. I was thinking of going back to work when she was in school when we got hit with a huge surprise, great surprise but no one was expecting her! 😆 I’ve loved being their mom, I really feel like I’m living my dream.
Thanks for sharing that, Stephanie. I love hearing from other moms about their lived experience of motherhood, because they are all so drastically different. I guess in a way I have grieved, off and on through the years, the fact that I wanted to be this domestic maven who loved staying home with her kids all day, but I didn’t. There was a patch of about a year when we had Felicity and Sarah and they were both little, and I relished every second with them. I truly thrived as a mom at home with my girls back then. But then we moved and had three more kids in three years, and I fell into a dark spell of postpartum depression that only recently have I recovered from.
I had pretty serious PPD after my first but with my husband who stepped in to do everything I was struggling with and a amazing doctor, I was thankfully able to pull through it. And at first I was sad that I wasn’t able to have my babies close together, I thought if I was ever lucky enough to have another one, they wouldn’t be close, they wouldn’t be connected but they’re 8 years apart and the best of friends so I know someone must be looking out for us.
I hear you, Stephanie, and I’m glad you had an amazing doctor to help you navigate PPD. It’s interesting when we talk about spacing our children, isn’t it? Everyone seems to have this ideal zone of how many years they want their kids apart, but it seldom seems to work out that way. Between Felicity and Sarah is about 2.5 years, which felt good to me, but between Sarah and Veronica there’s a 4-year gap, which I didn’t want but that’s what happened. Then between Veronica and Joey there’s not quite 2 years, and only a year between Joey and Auggie, which is what put me over the edge.
I believe it! I would’ve had a hard time with them being that close.
Oh, Jeannie, a move plus three more children in rapid succession is a lot to deal with. Plus, it's very isolating! Sending 💕💕💕
Thanks, Nancy. Sending you love right back.
Thank you for this honest reflection. I'm sure you've spoken truth to many fears with this, including my own. And shown us that we are all capable to rising to our challenges.
Thanks, Nancy. It’s lovely to see your comment under an essay I wrote a while back. I’m realizing the conversations surrounding motherhood/womanhood are complex and fraught. There are so many layers, aren’t there?
I always find you to be a remarkable human being & most importantly… an incredible, patient & loving mom… always, Jeannie! You deserve the best in life & so does your wonderful family… You should be an inspiration to all women, those w/children or not…The world is a better place w/you in it!💙💕
Wow, thank you for that affirmation, Sheryl! That means a lot. Sometimes I do need to be reminded of what you said here. I’m so glad you shared this and took time out of your day to tell me what I needed.
Here for you, Jeannie… Whenever you need a reminder or just having one of “those day’s!”💙
I needed to hear that today, Sheryl. Thank you. :)
Sending you a big hug, Jeannie!💙💙💙
Thank you, Sheryl!
Thank you for being so honest and open about your experience as a mother. I’m sure that you’ve learned a lot from raising five children and made some mistakes along the way. But that’s a part of being human, facing our challenges and fears and emerging battered and bruised but not ever broken. God bless you and your lovely family. (BTW, I’ve known a few Wiccans and New Agers in my time, but never any dyed-in-the-wool Satanists. That sounds like a total trip!)
Thanks for your comment, Rafael. I always appreciate hearing from you. Yes, that’s a lovely perspective—that when we face our challenges and fears, we can emerge battered and bruised but never broken. Absolutely beautiful. Thank you. (Yes, I’m struggling to recall the name of the guy who was openly Satanist, but I knew it at one time.)
Loved reading your story of becoming a mother. Mine was practically the opposite in terms of family size and culture (I'm one of 40 grandkids, as my mom is one of 10 siblings.) I had plenty of visual experience of nursing moms, babies being taken care of, etc. But as the youngest in my immediate family, I didn't get much hands-on experience myself. My oldest sister, who spent every possible minute taking care of baby cousins, got all the experience and thought it was funny that when I had my first baby I didn't know how to give a baby a bath. Oh, well! Hadn't done it!! Still, I was immersed in a family culture that included lots of babies, so I had this innate confidence that it's just what you do and you CAN do it. So interesting to me what shapes each person's perspectives on any particular topic. Thank you for sharing yours.
Oh wow, Kyle, how fortunate you were to grow up around babies and acquire this sort motherhood by osmosis. It sounds like you witnessed the reality of holding and caring for an infant and went into the choices you made to become a mother with that level of knowledge. I’m so glad there are people who have that experience, and I remain baffled that I didn’t. In many ways, I feel foolish and embarrassed and even angry that I went into motherhood blindly, naively. But here I am, learning as I go. I guess that’s what all of us end up doing, anyway, right?
Yes, exactly what we're all doing anyway. One way or another finding our way. There are things we don't know and things we think we know, and things we have to unlearn along the way. No matter where we start.
I so appreciate your wisdom, Kyle. Thank you ☺️
My experience was the opposite of yours Jeannie. I always wanted to be a mom and I was surprised when I got pregnant as a 21 year old senior in college. Ended up getting married and having 2 beautiful sons. My boys kept me sane through my sister’s death and my dad’s suicide. As they got older my life revolved around them so when my marriage ended and they were grown, my life became stagnant. It’s strange how children can be our saving grace even though they don’t realize it. Now I’m fortunate enough that grandchildren have been added to the family and that’s an entirely different story. Again I thank you for sharing your inner most thoughts and baring your soul to us.
That’s really beautiful, Sue, and I’m so happy you shared your experience of motherhood, even though it differs from mine. That’s the thing, though—everyone’s experience of motherhood is unique. Your wisdom that our children can be our saving grace even though they don’t realize hits home for me today. I feel that way about our youngest son Auggie, because I became pregnant with him unexpectedly and struggled the entire pregnancy. But he saved my life in many ways. I kept going because of him. I wanted him to know his life mattered to me.
Jeannie, your honesty about fearing you'd "screw up" any kids you might have really struck a chord with me. It's like you pulled a thought right out of my own head and put it on paper. It's something that has been echoing in my head.
I left a marriage because I wanted kids. And yet, once in a while, I get riddled with anxiety about having kids. Because I truly worry I'm going to screw them up.
That anxiety, that heavy weight of responsibility, it's something I think many of us grapple with, whether we admit it or not. It’s this strange paradox, wanting something so deeply but being terrified of not being good enough at it.
You articulate it beautifully in this essay, how those childhood messages, even the subtle ones, can echo in our minds and shape our perceptions of ourselves. The journey you describe, from that fear to embracing motherhood and learning alongside your children, is incredibly inspiring. It reminds me that growth often comes from facing those very fears head-on, not by avoiding them.
I'm leaving this article very inspired.
Wow, Alex, I really appreciate you saying that. It gives such rich context to your life as I’m coming to know you more. Thank you.
Parenthood is complicated. I think we do bring our old childhood fears and wounds into the families we create. I’m thinking more about this, too, because the comments have been so deep and meaningful and I’m realizing there’s so much more to say.
I do go into a lot of the conflicting feelings I had about becoming a mom in my memoir…which has yet to be published. But from what I am reading in the comments on this essay alone, I believe even more that my story will really speak to a lot of people.
Thank you, Alex, for being here with me.
I cannot wait to read, my friend 🩵
Aw, thank you!
Ah, thanks for writing so honestly and authentically as always. I qlso experienced postpartum depression and all those conflicting feelings about motherhood. 💜
Thanks for sharing that, Julie. It seems to me that many moms feel a sort of ambivalence about motherhood. At least from what many have shared with me.
As usual, this is a beautiful piece of writing. I laughed when I read the part about the babysitting fail with the poopy diaper you refused to change. I recalled my two daughers and my niece were in the back of the van (aged 7, 8, 10) while my sister changed the 3 year old's poopy diaper on the grass. The 3 girls were pinky swearing in the back that they would NEVER change poopy diapers. That would be a job for their husbands. Want to guess how that turned out?
Let me see…your girls ended up changing LOTS of poopy diapers? HAHAHA! Thanks, as always, Jane, for your support and for sharing my writing. I’m relieved each week when I hear that something I wrote hits home. Motherhood is messy and unpredictable and often leaves us feeling conflicted about what we think we “should” feel and what we actually feel or experience.
P.S. I have a longer version of the babysitting job that I deleted from my memoir. It’s humorous and I’m toying with the idea of making it into a Substack post.
Mmmmm, I love this Jeannie: "it is my purpose to guide them through the brutality and beauty, so that they can discover what resilience meant to them—just as I am learning about myself." What resilience means TO THEM! Yes, this, and it's so damn hard as a mom to faithfully follow through on this. We want to infuse them with our hard-earned resilience (or at least, I do)- or, I think that if I just talk to her about what resilience means, she'll get to skip over the hard face-in-the-mud part. Sigh. If only it was so easy. Thank you for this tender reminder!
You make such an important point, Kendall, and I think motherhood is just complicated. It seems like most of us have conflicting feelings about it, and at least for me, a lot of that stems from the way I was mothered (or wasn’t) and the way my relationship with my own mom plays out.
It seems to me that the fact that you recognize your subconscious influence about resilience influences your daughter and then you step back to examine that—well, that speaks volumes about your personal growth and pathway to healing. I commend you for that. Thank you for showing up in my space today and for your heart offering.
You have painted a beautiful and complex picture of parenthood.
Thanks, Imola. I feel like I could write volumes more! And, in fact, I have written a book about it. Still not sure what to do with it, though…
I am confident it will find its place in the world at the right time! I truly do!
I know you do, friend! You are one of my cheerleaders, too!