Of Motherhood and Mothering

Random thoughts on mothers, motherhood, and the act of mothering.

Mothering: the activity of caring for and protecting children or other people

In November of 2018, I took my mom to her cardiologist appointment. I was in the room as they did an ultrasound of her heart. I wrote this shortly after that visit:

"Mom's Heart

No, not the "flagship" heart of romantics on Valentine's Day, nor the one of emojis. Not the subjective heart that harbors emotions and memories, but the beating, living heart, inhabiting my mother's chest. And I was absorbed, watching the monitor... silent, listening to each heartbeat, paying attention to each new angle: the shadows, the nooks and crannies, the colors, the technician's maneuvers to measure, the heartbeats, all the heartbeats, the hypnotic rhythm of Mom's heart.

Feeling deeply moved and amazed. It must be the memory of a soul that doesn't forget, that remembers when its sound was the only thing that inhabited my world in her womb.

"I'm seeing Mom's heart," I repeated to myself over and over again. How fortunate I am that that image now inhabits my memory!"

Now fast forward to last month when I had to take my mom to another cardiologist visit and they had to do another ultrasound. It's been almost 7 years since that previous visit. I don't know much about hearts, but the sound of her heartbeat sounded different this time and I didn't feel the same sensations I did the time I hear her heartbeat for the first time. This time, however, my attention was drawn to her stomach area, to the space that held me for nine months. I had this profound revelation of how, during those months, as I was forming inside her body, we were one. I was one with her. I don't know much about genetics, but something in me could intuit that that experience of oneness had been embedded in my cells and DNA. Perhaps my body remembers that sense of unity of oneness. What I am trying to say is that perhaps our search for a sense of unity and our longing for oneness and belonging is not a dream or a vision but a memory of something we have known.

I am both a mother and a daughter. A mother who is still learning how to be a mother, and a daughter that is learning to understand her own mother. I fluctuate between the spaces of being someone's child; wanting her embrace and love, and having a child for whom I am the provider of love and safety. In this in-between space I hold more questions than answers, more ponderings than insights, and more hesitation than certainty. But in this in-between space, I also hold the beauty of this connection to both the past and my ancestors through my mother, and to the future of my descendants through my children.

But this experience of mothering or being mothered is not limited to the relationship between biological or adopted children and their parents. The act of mothering, parenting, or nourishing someone so that they may grow fully to be themselves is a gift we receive from others around us. We are mothered by Mother Earth; by trees, rivers, mountains, oceans, by geographies and the bounty in food we are provided. We are mothered by mentors, teachers, and guides. Sometimes, even by strangers who, in a brief exchange, nourish our spirits by extending care and kindness to us.

Finally, one of the difficult tasks many of us face in our adult life is that of reparenting ourselves by providing our inner child with the care, love, and kindness that, for many reason, our caregivers were not able to provide for us. In most cases, those shortcomings were not on purpose, but the result of difficult circumstances. When we become aware of the unmet needs within us, we offer this care and act of mothering to ourselves; for a time, inhabiting the space of being both the carer and the receiver, the parent and the child.

Take a moment to reflect on those who have nourished you, cared for you, helped you grow, and loved you into being. And honor, too, those you have nourished, cared for, helped grow, and loved into being.