First a word of caution. Don’t even bother reading this if you are still in the early throes of motherhood where your child adores everything that you do and you think that this state of heightened love-in, akin to what the Dalai Lama exhibits, will last forever. I used to be you.
Then I discovered how delusional I was.
After that I wondered why nobody warned me.
It’s because nobody wants to believe that the state of parent/mother-daughter relationship can be a fragile one without you even realising it. Even President Barack Obama has spoken about this. If somebody of his stature has gone through it then it’s bad enough for the rest of us.
My daughter is 23 now but is still at the groan and grunt at mum stage though it isn’t as intense as when she was a teenager. We are getting past the stage where my living and breathing is a burden on her wellbeing. Still, It was the unlikeliest of moments.
I was listening to the BBC Asian Network’s ‘Big Debate’ sometime back. The debate centred around people’s experiences of whether their parents had ever told them of their parental pride in them? I was engrossed in the debate but almost fell of my chair when my daughter came on.
To add some context here, my daughter and I are contributors to the wonderful BBC Asian Network but I didn’t know beforehand that she was due to speak. Just as well, perhaps. I might have eaten an amount of chocolate equivalent to my body weight in trepidation.
People before her had spoken in equal measure about how their parents had, both, been supportive and none. When my daughter’s name was announced, my first thought was ‘oh no’. My mothering flashed before my eyes. Within seconds I was already having huge regrets (again) over that time when I didn’t praise the painting she did in Year 3 of our pet cat. The guilt of mothering has no expiry time limit. In fact, if anything, it has a roll over effect and gathers up more and more regret as the years go by. Mother guilt is a snowball that constantly grows and grows. You wonder whether and when it will hit you because, if it does, that means the guilt is over.
My daughter spoke in glowing terms about how I had encouraged her from when she was little to do her best. She held me up as a mother who had given her the building blocks of self-confidence in her life. I felt, both, humbled and ashamed.
Ashamed because I had doubted my child’s ability to be self-aware of her makings. Humbled because here was my daughter praising me in public.
Being a parent is in large part an act of self-doubt. The. ‘am I doing it right? should I be saying this?’, is a constant nagging thought in our heads. Nobody wants to bring their child up in a way where their self-esteem resembles the fragility of UK-EU negotiations or Trump’s ego, for that matter. So, even an iota of assurance that one did alright is a big deal.
Parenting is also an act of egoism. At some stage after investing your emotions, time and efforts, you want to know that you did something right. I got that moment and I am still pinching myself.
