mothers

the mother, 1949

“there has been an enormous amount of talk about the sacred rights of women, but being a mother is not how women gained the right to vote; the unwed mother is still scorned; it is only in marriage that the mother is glorified- in other words, as long as she is subordinate to the husband. As long as he is the economic head of the family, even though it is she who cares for the children, they depend far more on him than on her. This is why, as has been seen, the mother’s relationship with her children is deeply influenced by the one she maintains with her husband. So conjugal relations, homemaking and motherhood form a whole in which all the parts are determinant; tenderly united to her husband, the wife (mother) can cheerfully carry out the duties of the home; happy with her children, she will be understanding of her husband. But this harmony is not easy to attain, for the different functions assigned to the wife(mother) conflict with each other. Women magazines amply advise the housewife on the art of maintaining her sexual attraction while doing the dishes, of remaining elegant throughout pregnancy, of reconciling flirtation, motherhood and economy; but if she conscientiously follows their advice, she will soon be overwhelmed and disfigured by care; it is very difficult to remain desirable with chapped hands and a body deformed by pregnancies; this is why women in love often feel resentment of the children who ruin her seduction and deprive her of her husbands caresses; if she is, by contrast, deeply maternal, she is jealous of the man who also claims the children as his. But then, the perfect homemaker, as has been seen, contradicts the movement of life: The child is the enemy of waxed floors. Maternal love is often lost in the reprimands and outbursts that underlie the concern for a well-kept home. It is not surprising that the woman torn between these contradictions often spends her day in a state of nervousness and bitterness; she always loses on some level, and her gains are precarious, they do not count as any sure success. She can never save herself by her work alone; it keeps her occupied, but does not constitute her justification: her justification rests on outside freedoms. The wife (mother) shut up in her home cannot establish her existence on her own; she does not have the means to affirm herself in her singularity: and this singularity is consequently not acknowledged.”

Simone de Beauvoir, the Second Sex 1949

begin again.

im reading Something More at the moment, a book that has travelled many years beside me, it was at one time in my life well read and again now. As im reading im finding the stories are familiar, and i say with immense heartache are just as familiar once again. Sarah writes, ‘if it’s true that sometimes we marry for the wrong reasons, we convince ourselves to stay for even worse ones. We stay to be kind. We stay for the kids. We stay because we think we can’t afford to leave and wont calculate the psychic cost of remaining. We stay because we put loyalty to others above loyalty to our own truth. We stay because we are genuinely good and decent people. Good people do not walk out on marriages that are congenial enough to get through a dinner party, school conferences, a childs learning disability, a father-in-laws stroke, family holiday gatherings…’ Some women can do this and they seem to do it well, on the outside. They go about their lives, allowing themselves to slip away and they settle, settle for what they have, for what ever nourishment is offered if any is offered at all, they talk themselves into the belief that what they have is enough, that they can make do, they are even grateful, it might not be the complete story, but its a story and its good enough.. I’m not one of them. I have always wanted my children to live in their truth, what ever that entails, even if they are to find themselves lost in their lives over and over again, even if my children have children, be brave and follow your truth. They were my words and up until now, had only been for them. Until now, they have mattered more. All the ones i love have mattered more. I love well, somewhere and sometime ago, i stopped loving well the one who i needed the most, i stopped mattering to myself. Now, im listening to the honest words iv’e always held out for my children and offering them up for my own taking. I’m moving into my truth. i know it will come with resistance from others, even ones i love, that is alright. i understand that they don’t recognise me this way. It will take time to adjust, for understanding that now i am as important as they are, that now i may not always abide by the rules they have set for me. And some wont come around at all, it simply will no longer fit, maybe it will be too confronting for them, of their own stories, but that too cannot concern me now. i can let go with love the ones who are not meant to stay. What matters most now, in this moment is that I matter.

the woman within

the woman within.

mothers.

mothers

He asks,

‘What is it you do?

I’m a mother

‘Yes, I know that but what else, before that?

She feels her heart drop to the pit of her stomach , as she frantically searches her mind for a more suitable answer.

A mother, just a mother.

He is oblivious in the knowing, that in that moment all worthiness was stripped away and her heart was silently crying an abundance of tears

For the self she is yet to know and the self she has whole heartedly given to her children.

when did it become not enough? when was it that becoming a mother became so undervalued? It is true, there are parts of myself, parts that are not a mother or a wife but are simply me. They are most of the time in the shadows or only seen as a glimpse now and again and as mothers, the caretakers of our families we know only too well that this is a selfless journey we have chosen. We move through our days nurturing and nourishing our families by meeting needs and with an abundance of love. Often allowing all those who matter most to us to move on their journeys ahead of our own. We wait patiently, maybe for only a few minutes of solitude, or a full nights sleep, or enough time to take a bath, read a chapter in a book, or a pause long enough to feel the warmth of the sun on our faces, maybe the bigger things we will have to wait a little longer for.

It is undeniably deplorable that the very words ‘ I am a mother’ are so often perceived as insignificant and demeaning. That even I, when asked this was not able to convey my own importance and sacrifices here, that I was, in that moment diminished to feeling like it wasn’t enough. I believe that if it wasnt for mothers, so many that are blessed to be living up to their ambitious dreams and walking the journeys that they have chosen for themselves without the need to pause or defer to raise the children, might look upon us in a new light and with gratitude in their hearts.