October 21, 2006 10:15 PM
A cloud on my horizon
I won't pretend my life is perfect. Right now I am dealing with an issue that would probably send me to the doctor for anti-depressants except that with 12 kids my world is bigger than that. With 12 kids, the weather forecast is almost always mostly sunny rather than mostly cloudy.
You all who know me know that I had serious failures as a mother before I became a Christian. And in spite of my best efforts to be perfect, I've fallen very short of my own ideals since. If you had asked me ten years ago, I probably did think I was the perfect mother.
I know I wanted desperately to be. When I say I came from a bad background, that doesn't begin to describe the details of a life without adequate parenting to someone who had some semblance of it. In some ways my parents were way ahead of their time. My father was part of the Hefner-inspired Playboy philosophy that over the years to come would lead to millions of broken homes and countless broken hearts. After dragging us through seven states from Kansas to Georgia to Alaska to California, he ran off with another woman, leaving my mother in 1954 with three kids and no resources. Later, he remarried and had another four kids (I only met the first when he was a baby). A third also ended in divorce.
My mother, from the tail end of a poor Missouri Irish family with 12 kids – whose big brothers dropped out of school to support the family when the father died – was understandably thrown for a loop. In addition to having to work hard to support us – even if it meant sending money to an unofficial "foster home" where we suffered all kinds of abuse – the rest of her life was driven by her sexuality and her alcoholism. There was little room for being a mom.
She told me once - not in anger, but rather matter-of-factly - that she hated me when I was born (her first) because I was not a boy. She was also irrationally jealous of my father's love for me (although through things that were revealed to me later about my father's character, perhaps she had reason to be. In the 52 years that have passed since he left, besides the time I was sent to live with him for a year when I was 10, I’ve only seen or heard from my father a few times and twice he propositioned me).
The only time my mother and I were friends was after my first marriage when my husband and I would get together with her and my brother and his friends to get high. She was actually way ahead of her time. As kind of the forerunner of today's parents-who-want-to-be-pals-with-their-kids mentality, she often ended up sleeping with my brothers' friends and sometimes their girlfriends. Once she even in a drunken stupor she even propositioned me (gosh, is that some kind of record – to have been sexually abused in a foster home and propositioned by both your parents as an adult?). It was the early 70's. My mom was 40something but just as some of my kids today think they would have been more suited to the 50s, for my mom the Sexual Revolution was her kind of time and place.
Through all my worst drug addiction days in San Francisco, my mother was supportive – supportive in terms of enabling me by taking care of my kids when I was racked by three cocaine-fueled days of sleeplessness so I could take some downers to pass out for a while.
May I just say that that's not the kind of support I would offer my own kids, and probably one of the reasons I'm so upfront in my communication?
Once I got sober, the relationship chilled. Once I stopped my own promiscuity and married again, it chilled more. Once I became a Christian, it was in the deep freeze. My mother clearly took no pride in having a healthy daughter.
Those of you who've read my books know that I've talked about the conscious steps a woman must take who realizes she’s grown up with inadequate mothering and wants to become a good mother herself. Though that process began for me in the early 70's with my first child – when my intentions to make the world a better place for children also led me to become a Montessori teacher – until I learned how to live without drugs and alcohol and make peace with my past, my best impulses (which I believe were planted by God even before I knew him) were overpowered by my worst.
I was 32 when I got sober, but emotionally I believe I was the age when I started drinking – 16. The fact that from the get-go I never drank a little, I always drank a lot just underscores the fact that there was one reason I drank – to escape the demons of my past. One of the things I had to face was the loveless relationship with my mother. I have to admit it was hard – as strong a person as I consider myself to be, to realize that there are just some things you will never experience that others take for granted is very difficult.
I was blessed though. Through working the 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous and learning how to turn my attention from the hurts others had caused me to the hurts I had caused others – plus the wonderful help of a professional counselor who taught me that just because someone happens be your mother you can’t expect more from her than she is capable of giving (in her words, “Some mothers have empty tits. Your problem is that you expect her to be something she isn’t”) – I was able to recognize that coming out of a promiscuous, alcoholic lifestyle with two daughters 5 and 11, I had the opportunity of a lifetime: a chance to start over and build a better life for my daughters and me.
I can only credit God – who though I did not know him still knew and loved me and at critical points in my life nudged me in the right direction – that instead of collapsing from guilt and shame and heading back to lala land to bury the pain, I responded by seizing the opportunity to grow and to change.
I think the only reason I was able to forgive myself for coming so close to repeating my mother’s pattern was that I sensed that if I didn’t I would be paralyzed and unable to move forward. And I wanted so desperately to move forward, to become the kind of mother my daughters deserved.
In addition to forgiving myself, there was the problem of forgiving others. Interestingly enough, AA does not really deal head-on with the problem of forgiving others. But for those who are teachable, you can’t help but learn. Because the focus in the 4th through 7th steps is on dealing with your own sin (they call it shortcomings). Instead of making a list of people who have harmed you and trying to forgive them, here is what the recovering alcoholic is advised to do:
8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.9. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.
When you are a recovering alcoholic, you’re taught that your very life depends on working the steps to the best of your ability. Your future sobriety is at stake, and as a recovering alcoholic you know that one way or another your drinking could eventually kill you. I had more than that at stake. I had two little girls I had harmed. And because I was once a little girl who suffered harm, I knew they were at risk. Their welfare was worth far more than any feeble attempts to prop up my own ego by denying how desperately wrong I had been.
They were the first on my amends list, followed by their father and others I had hurt. My amends were specific and unconditional. By unconditional I mean that I explained to them that if they ever remembered things I had done to hurt them personally, I would always be willing to listen and apologize. If they remembered things I’d apologized for but they needed to talk about it, I would always be there. They would never hear from me, “Oh, I already apologized for that, so drop it.” Having been so hurt myself and having never received the apologies my heart yearned for, I never wanted to leave them feeling that way.
Working those steps was a humbling and liberating experience for me – and one which I think would be valuable for any Christian. When I became a Christian seven years and four days after my first AA meeting (March 21, 1987), in addition to surrendering my life, I had also already had a lot of experience in what the Christian community calls discipleship – learning to apply biblical principles in my life.
For one thing, I had learned how to forgive and how to ask for forgiveness – something I see many Christians struggle with or just plain avoid. Once when someone had wronged me and we sat down to talk, she came armed with a bunch of Bible verses to convince me of my wrongness, then when I apologized (because she didn’t think she had anything to apologize for) refused to forgive me – even after I reminded her that there was a verse in the Bible that pertained to that subject too. (Frankly, I don’t like people using Bible verses as clubs to prevail over others, but why is it that the people who do think that only the ones pertaining to their enemies are valid?)
So, yeah, coming into Christianity with the zeal of a person twice-rescued – once from herself and once from her sin – and with a husband equally zealous plus five children and all sorts of evidence that God had blessed our marriage (sons named Joshua Gabriel, Matthew Raphael, and Benjamin Michael) we worked extra, extra hard to become the perfect parents we thought God wanted us to be.
I guess in the early years you need to think there’s a slight possibility:). There’s not, believe me. But there’s still every reason to try.
Still, you never imagine that the day will come when in spite of your intentions and hard work – and even thinking that you had God’s blessing – one of your children will find you’ve fallen so short that she needs to pull the plug on your relationship for an undetermined length of time. And that this means pulling the plug for the grandchildren too.
The mother/daughter relationship seems fraught with potential for all kinds of mischief from the Enemy – who is always seeking to rob us of our spiritual health and joy. The fact that a mother is one person, yet seen as different by different children makes me think that when our babies are grown we are almost like a Rorschach test in which the inner strength and struggles of our adult children are revealed.
This is a phase of motherhood I’m going through now – though I’m still blessed to have some at home who think I’m Mrs. Wonderful. But isn’t that the problem? Making the transition from believing that Mom is perfect to understanding that she is human like everyone else – with her own strengths and struggles too?
I don’t think it’s good for daughters to remain so overly-attached to their mothers that they defend indefensible behavior. But there’s also clearly something wrong when a daughter seems unable to accept that a mother is a separate human being whose choices and decisions are not a reflection on the daughter in any way. Though daughter and mother may have strikingly different personality types, there should be a mutual respect rather than condemnation.
Why write about what I am going through publicly? Because that is my calling. Because somewhere out there is a mother who is going through the same thing I am who needs the comfort of knowing she is not alone, that age and wisdom count for something. And somewhere out there is a daughter whose judgmentalism exacts a greater cost than she realizes. Or maybe it’s not mother/daughter but sister/sister or father/son or next door neighbors. Because somewhere out there are relationships broken because Person A decides that Person B is so wrong that Person A has the right to give up trying. Because decisions like that cause wasted years – often in the lives of innocent children.
A writer has to struggle with balancing her call and her family - and I'm not speaking here of time and energy, but deciding what is appropriate and useful. My purpose is not to vent – I think you know that would sound very different – but to continue to use my life and what God is teaching me to help others. I heard Philip Yancey keynote at the Evangelical Press Association a number of years ago and he spoke of the difficulty nonfiction writers face – our call is to write from our experience and the people in our lives are part of that experience. Another friend of mine, Mary deMuth, who wrote Building the Christian Family You Never Had, has faced similar issues.
I am very proud of my adult children. Though they are not clones of me, and though there have been a few choices that I found disappointing, I can look at each and accept them for who they are. As someone still on the motherhood journey – and therefore still making mistakes and learning – I actually find myself growing more humble every day at how much I have yet to learn. One thing I’ve learned is that the time we have here on earth is actually very short – too short to waste in confusion and despair.
This has been a long, unflinching look at the cloud hovering over my horizon right now. I’ve seen this cloud before – the same daughter feeling unable to continue her relationship with me and cutting off the grandchildren. I remind myself that the Bible always says, “It came to pass,” rather than “It came to stay.” I am praying – and hope you will too – for restored and healthy relationships because there are so many people involved.
But as I said in the beginning, one of the benefits of having 12 kids is that though you might pause and contemplate the dark cloud hovering on the horizon and you might be praying constantly that God’s hand will be there, the reality is that most of the sky is filled with light and there are other children who love and need you. I actually started this morning wanting to follow a brief mention of this difficulty with some more upbeat news about stuff going on with my other kids.
In the midst of this, however, I had to take Maddy to the emergency room for what we thought was a fractured rib. Five hours and a Tylenol w/codeine prescription later we came home for dinner, chores and family. Now I must finish this up – will report on the sunshiny aspects of my life tomorrow.
Posted in Family, Mothering | Permalink
Comments
I am praying for you & your daughter. You are so right about the time wasted. I trust you will love her the way our God loves us. Keep loving and respecting her space without making her feel ashamed of her behavior, and pray that God will open her heart to accept your love. I am in my 30's too, and daughters always need mommy's love, time, and to feel special. It is only God who can help you give her what she craves and what you didn't have. Keep on loving. You are beautiful. :)
Posted by: Honey | October 21, 2006 11:52 PM
The first time I wrote a post about my history, my family, my inner feelings--I wondered if I would run all of my readers away. Some of my best posts are those that are difficult, painful, and chock full of emotion. They are not rated on the amount of personal detail I expose--rather the emotional feedback I receive from the time the post comes to my thoughts, until long after it has been posted.
Writing is such an amazing release. I have yet to find anything more powerful. I have written my thoughts about everything for many years now, but only recently began sharing them. I did notice that with time these posts became easier. Now when a powerful post comes to mind I don't hesitate one bit to shout it to the mountains.
I must admit that I am not exactly what one would call a good Christian. While I do have faith, I don't attend church. I often pray, but I rarely every open my bible.
My parents fought most of my childhood. My mother’s best friend kept us on the weekends just before my parents divorced, and that is when I became victim of molestation by her adult son. My memories of being a child often revolve around tough experiences I experienced or witnessed growing up—and I still harbor some unrest feelings about all of it.
I am a single (but still married) mother of five at home ages 16, 15, 12, 5, and a 2 year old with Down syndrome. My husband abandoned us when he found out our youngest child had DS. He couldn’t live with the fact he had a child that in his own country would be seen as a throw away.
My 15 year old is pregnant and while I have accepted this as fact, I haven’t come to terms with the situation. I hold great pain for the child who will now be a mother, as she has no idea how her life has changed. How everything in her future has been altered. Not that being a teen parent is the end of the world—but it isn’t the kind of thing I wanted one of my own children to experience.
In addition, I have an adult child who found me 18 years after she was born—we were separated by adoption. I was almost a teen parent, but my parents prevented that. She has a child, who was two in June. I was present for her birth, and it was an amazing experience. I was so thankful that her adopted parents provided her with my information—even though it was a closed adoption. Unfortunately, her life is filled with drama. Out of need to protect my children at home, we are not close.
I guess that what I am trying to say is that I think it would be rare that there were a mother who didn’t have a story to tell about her childhood, about her life, about the lives of her children.
No one has the “ideal” set of circumstances—even when they claim that they do. We all have stories, built on any number of variables that include who are parents are, who we are, and who are children will be. There is nothing wrong with turning within to gather strength to manage challenges we face in our lives.
I commend your for continuing to write your stories of life.
Posted by: Rebecca P. | October 22, 2006 12:57 AM
I am very sorry, Barbara. Thanks for sharing about your personal struggle here. My thoughts are with you.
Posted by: Gen | October 22, 2006 1:00 AM
My mother died when I was 22 so that helped me to learn some persepective. That is is possible to love a person, but not agree with everything they ever did or every choice they ever made. My youger siblings were 7 and 9 when she died. They want to know about Mom, and they want to understand why my sister and I are so different. It is hard to tell them about my mothers difficult side, but that side is why my sister and I do the things we do. Now I can understand--from being an adult and a mother --but I do not agree. Iit is simpler and more honest, and yes loving to say "I loved my mother very much, but I do not always agree with her". Perhaps your own daughter will someday come to the same conclusion. 'I can love my mother without loving her choices' is so freeing.
Posted by: Stephanie | October 22, 2006 2:22 AM
Dear Barbara,
I am crying for you right now! Tears in Montana for you and your beloved, precious daughter and grandchildren too. Your heart is so full of LOVE -- well, I can only imagine the depth of your suffering. And I am so very, very sorry for your pain.
In addition to praying--thank you for granting us all the privilege of praying specifically!--I hope it will not seem strange to recommend a potential "practical" (of course prayer is the MOST practical!) step too ...
Have you considered bringing in a trained Christian conciliator to help you and your family?
I feel stupid even recommending this because I know you already know that the Bible is RICH with helpful and God-glorifying principles to guide us, even during our worst conflicts.
But there are also some wonderfully gifted conciliators with decades of experience working with families who are available to help us too. (I recently had to hire two conciliators myself because of a conflict that was ripping me to shreds inside.)
If you have any interest in this whatsoever, I would love to help you find just the right conciliator for you and your daughter. (I have some horror stories of BAD conciliators that I hesitate to even bring up—but I do want you to be aware that not everyone who holds themselves out as being able to help actually has the wisdom, grace, humor, experience, or training to do so—despite their best efforts and intentions.)
Maybe I could even donate frequent flyer miles or help in other ways to get a conciliator to you to help you?
Please know that you have many people who truly care about you and your family. And please do let me know if there is anything I can do to serve you.
Your sister in Christ,
Tara B.
Posted by: Tara B. | October 22, 2006 11:32 AM
I haven't personally experienced what you are describing, but wanted you to know that I am saying prayers for you and your family.
Part of becoming an adult was realizing that my mom is human and (like me!) has her foibles. I had set her so far up on a pedestal that this realization was a bit of an adjustment for me.
But that is what love is about--not loving someone because they are perfect, but in spite of their flaws. Isn't that what God does with us?
Posted by: KatieButler | October 22, 2006 4:53 PM
I haven't had direct experience with what you are dealing with right now, but wanted to let you know that you and your family are in my prayers.
I know that as an adult daughter, it took some adjusting to realize that my mom is not perfect--I had really "put her on a pedestal," so to speak. But what brought me through was realizing that we all have our foibles, and that loving one another means loving someone, flaws and all, not holding them to some unattainable standard.
Posted by: KatieButler | October 22, 2006 4:55 PM
Barbara,
Thinking about you and praying for you. I think the fact that you turned your life around from THAT is remarkable and inspiring. Your daughter's bound to realize that eventually. What would her life look like if you hadn't gotten sober and become a Christian?????
Posted by: Marie | October 22, 2006 9:41 PM
I will surely be praying for you and your daughter.
I hesitate to add this, but it's on my heart. Are you sure that in your mission to educate through writing about your own experiences that you are not further alienating your daughter? Perhaps she does not see it as unconditional love that you have shared this situation with the world. The only reason I mention this is that I am still more of an adult daughter than a mother, because I am only 28 and my children are very young. My mother is 58, and we have a good realationship, but occasionally we have had our difficulties. If my mother had had a blog and had shared the situation, however vaguely, I would have been devestated and would have felt betrayed. I would probably have felt like my mother was trying to get support for "her" side without anyone hearing "my" side. (Oh how petty we fallen humans are!!) As silly and petty as I know that sounds, it's true. In my heart I would have added further bricks to the wall of bitterness/judgementalism/anger. I would have thought, "If only those readers could hear my side! They might not write all those nice comments!"
So, although I don't mean to be hurtful, I thought you might want to consider this. I'm sure your daugther reads this. Perhaps she isn't as enthusiastic about being used as a teaching tool as you are about using the situation to be one.
Prayers and hugs to you both in this difficult situation!
Posted by: Jill (colicmommy) | October 23, 2006 10:00 AM
Jill - I understand your concern and actually have weighed everything very carefully. This has actually been an ongoing problem for many years and I have never written about it until I felt that greater good could come of it in helping others (as I mentioned in the paragraphs on why I write about my personal life).
Interestingly, my daughter and her husband have frequently addressed their judgments of me on their own blogs - in the vague terms you mention. I have respected their right to do so and for the past year have only offered love in return for every hurt.
So this is not vindictive or tit-for-tat, but just a result of feeling that the relationship is at a point where only prayer is going to help. In the meantime, these are issues in my life which can perhaps help other people. Since I am not allowed to call or visit or write my daughter's family, it is also a way of bringing some perspective.
I understand how it might look like I'm seeking support. But trust me, at 58 and with the battles I've had to face as a political writer, I have long ago gotten over the need to have people like me or sympathize with me. that's not at all what my writing or my blog is all about.
thanks for your perspective and your prayers!
Posted by: barbara | October 23, 2006 11:16 AM
