I’m not even the one that became a first time mother but my emotions have been on a roller coaster ride this past week. My middle daughter gave birth to a couple of beautiful boys. Although I am thrilled to grow the number of grandchildren I have, it was my job as mother that I felt so emotional about. In fact, I still am feeling it.
When I became a mother in 1988 I had no idea the impact it would have on my life. The paths it would take me on, the pains I would feel or the joys I would treasure. I will assume that my daughter doesn’t either.
With my oldest two daughters the majority of their childhood I felt like I wasn’t a very good mother. Looking back, the mentality of worry of just that subject was the only real thing that was a hinderance. Somewhere along the lines I began to accept the type of mother I was, improve upon what I have learned, and go forth even if it ended in a mess. I’ve taken the knowledge I gained from raising the two older ones and am trying to do a better job with their little sister. I’m far from perfect but you know what, that’s okay. I love each of my children and they know it. Them knowing it is key.
Motherhood changes as our children grow in their own lives. Twenty four years I’ve cared for, battled with, laughed with, and loved the woman who I call my second born. It’s almost difficult for me to put into words the experience of watching her become a mother herself. Actually each of my adult daughters have given me grandchildren and it’s a struggle to come up with the right words to describe what the experience was like for me. Their mother. It’s a treasure although filled with worry and excitement. The child I called my own becoming something that I am. A mother.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that becoming a grandmother once again was great, my mother instinct takes top slot though. Perhaps it’s so prominent because of the type of relationship my daughter and I have. Perhaps it’s because I know what her future looks like in a sense. Perhaps it’s just that the caring nature within doesn’t stop. I want to make sure she has what she needs now in both emotional and physical support.
Witnessing from a close distance my own children as mothers takes my breath away periodically. On occasion I have to keep my mouth closed, sometimes I have to speak up. Sometimes it just means sweeping the floor or washing a dish or making a quilt or cuddling with one of the four grandchildren. Whatever the need I hope they know I’m still here, even if they are mothers themselves. That as their mother, I’m still mothering. And although it’s not always easy, it’s still a pleasure.
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