As we approach Mother’s Day this weekend, I wanted to acknowledge all the mothers in my life. As those of you who have read my book Puppies, Guppies, and Letting Go by Dorry Curran (Puppies, Guppies, and Letting Go: Curran, Dorry: 9798842188574: Amazon.com: Books) are aware, I had a fantastic mother with whom I was very close. Since I never had the experience of being a mother, I find observing and admiring mothers to be an intriguing pastime. In past blog posts, I have discussed the diversity of being a good mother. The notion that women can approach the job of mothering so differently and yet be so beautifully effective at raising good people fascinates me. Motherhood is a vocation. It is a vocation of many different emphases and priorities. I think it is fair to say that almost all mothers do their best to raise their children to become self-sufficient people who live with integrity, purpose, satisfaction, love, and joy. I know that all the mothers I know definitely fall into that category. Certainly, no mother is effective ALL the time. And I suspect that all the mothers I know are doing a much better job than they think they are.
Some mothers may not try their best and, of course, even the ones who are doing their best might not be effective. This is a heartbreaking truth, but it is a truth. For those women, I hope they find grace in the larger community to help them and to help their children. Good individuals create a good society. Therefore, all of us have a stake at supporting moms.
One thing that I have really learned in my own case is that the need to be mothered does not go away when you hit a certain age. Or when the mother who raised you dies. Most of the people in my social circle no longer have their moms with them in this life. Most of us went through a process over the years, maybe especially those who had children of their own, of loosening our grip on being mothered and taking on a more independent and then a more caregiving role. For many of us, that caregiver role extended to providing care to the mother who used to care for us. It is a natural and necessary process. It still doesn’t mean that our souls do not yearn for mothering.
So how do we fill that need to be mothered? U am 65-years old. My mother mothered me for many, many years past the day I turned 18. In the last year of my mother’s life, she lived in a skilled nursing facility. She was bed-bound due to a catastrophic stroke. Even before the stroke, she was physically impaired to a great degree. After the stroke, the cognitive disintegration was constant. Most of the last year of her life, she could not speak at all. The only way she could communicate was through body language. Even in that compromised state, my mother mothered me. I remember coming to visit one day and tripping on the concrete outside the facility. I fell to the ground and spilled the chocolate milkshake I was bringing her. When I got into her room, I was obviously distressed, although trying to remain composed. My mother, even in the belly of her decline when speech was almost completely gone, summoned all her remaining ability, and said quite emphatically “Go home.” It was clear to me that she could see how exhausted and defeated I was and wanted me to rest. Sometimes I think that one moment was the reason she struggled and lingered in the shadowland between life and death for so long. We both needed to have that re-assertion of our mother/daughter dynamic before she left me.
After my mother died, I leaned into other mothers to fill the gap for me. I can think of several older women who treated me with the gentleness, wisdom, and validation that my own mother lavished upon me. However, as I have aged, so have they. Several of them have also died in the last seven years since my mother passed. To some extent, I am again experiencing that awful tearing away as they declined. I pour love back on them. I’m privileged to do so, but it is still a mournful process.
I’m learning now that I don’t need someone old enough to be my mother to be mothered. There are several women around my own age or, in some cases, YOUNGER, who gather me to themselves to protect, teach, support, and love me in a way that satisfies the yearning my mother used to assuage so organically. It feels instinctive and unconditional. It has been hard for me to understand it, but I lap it up like a starving cat will lap up milk. It is also teaching me that I, too, can be that for others. Most people think I have a very motherly energy about me. It is something that I hid and tamped down for a long time because it felt somehow audacious and intrusive. What right and what qualifications did I have to presume to mother anyone? Now, as I have basked in the benefit of being on the receiving end of that mother energy from others, it strikes me that many people have such a strong need for that kind of love, I’m better than nothing. The response has become organic and instinctive for me, as well. When I stop editing that response, the caring overflows and I mother adults. I hope I am not overbearing or intrusive about it, but I figure that I should listen to my instincts and be led by the Holy Spirit.
I have never birthed a child. I have never adopted a child. I don’t even have much experience with children. But, in some ways, I am still a mother… maybe.
Have a wonderful Mother’s Day, everyone! Especially to all of you who mother me!
Terri/Dorry 😊
Do you have someone who mothers you as an adult? How do you feel about it? Please share your perspective by leaving a comment. In the alternative, you can email me at terriretirement@gmail.com.