Today here in the US it’s Mother’s Day, a day to honor and celebrate the women who birthed us and who raised us. And for those who are mothers, it’s a day to be recognized for all your hard work and sacrifice. For many families, it’s a time of happiness and celebration, and that’s how it’s been for me for the larger part of my life.
And then there are the hiccups. The moments I remember the not so great times with my mom. The years she should have been on medication to moderate her extreme bipolar moods, but wasn’t. Even that’s complicated because she was in the care of a psychiatrist for years. But the whack-a-doodle thought he could psychoanalyze her out of her illness, even when his profession recognized she needed medication. And yes, he was eventually sued in a class action lawsuit that my mother opted to not get involved with. But I digress.
My relationship with my mother was complicated by her mental illness.
Thanks to trying to figure out why I’ve had such a difficult relationship with food and my weight, looking within, I’ve been able to understand more about my relationship with my mother. Long forgotten memories of her cutting me down came back during healing sessions, and within minutes I was able to dissolve the associated pain and anguish. Gone. The beauty of my healing path is how it’s been healing my relationship with my mother despite her being gone since late 2012.
My relationship with motherhood is also complicated. My first pregnancy came as a result of being molested for a few years. Barely able to even recognize I was pregnant because the molestation began long before I’d gotten my first period, when I was finally so pregnant that it could no longer be denied or hidden, the shit hit the fan. All my worst fears came true.
That said, the timing of my pregnancy was such that I was able to keep it hidden from everyone, moving into a home for unwed mothers at the end of my freshman year of high school. Secrets and lies protected me. I was able to have my daughter and give her up for adoption without more than a very small handful of people finding out.
The corner of my daughter’s picture is cut out because it was me. Despite the circumstances surrounding my daughter’s birth, my father came to the hospital and took several pictures of her. But he made me cut myself out of most of the pictures. Years later he gave me the negatives, which I still have. Back when I had her, the medical system didn’t make new mothers leave the hospital 24 hours after giving birth so I had a few days with her before I left and she went to foster care until her adoption.
While I’ve been doing hypnosis work around my weight, over the years things have popped up around being molested, becoming pregnant so young, and giving my daughter up for adoption. Giving her up even impacted postpartum depression I experienced after the birth of my son a few decades later. And thankfully, all the things I’ve seen during my sessions were healed. Associated pain, sadness, and other not so fun emotions dissolved, leaving only memories behind.
Although I no longer feel shame when I think of my past, and can think about my daughter without becoming upset, I’m still curious. I’d love to be able to see pictures of her and know what her life has looked like. I’d love to know what she does these days and what her passions are. And I have to be ok with the possibility I’ll never know. Being the product of molestation is something she doesn’t need to know.
The thing about having had a child in secrecy and giving it up for adoption was the deep desire to have a child I could acknowledge publicly without shame and stigma. I was raised in an era when as a little girl I always pictured myself growing up, getting an education, being married, and having a family. And after giving up my daughter, I promised myself I wouldn’t have another child until I was married and settled into a committed and stable relationship.
And then there was the time when things were almost right for me to become a mother, but not quite.
Having met my first true love in college, a few years into the relationship, long enough to realize that we were fantastic as boyfriend and girlfriend, but also long enough to realize he wasn’t right for me long-term, I became pregnant. After the hell I’d already been through, there was no way I was going to carry this pregnancy to term, and I didn’t. Years later during a hypnosis session, I connected with the soul of my unborn child who told me making the decision I made was the first time in my life I’d taken my destiny into my own hands, one of the seminal choice points when I finally put myself first. It put me on my current path and the soul of my child sends me unconditional love from time to time.
Finally, when I was in my mid-thirties my life began to line up so my dream of having a child and raising it could come true. Shortly after marriage when I became pregnant, all my dreams were coming true. I had a husband, a home, a part time job, and was pregnant. And then the pregnancy miscarried. It was beyond devastating. I was completely clobbered. How could this happen? I’d already been pregnant so easily and had a child.
Months went by as I obsessively tracked my cycles, and finally, a month or so after my father-in-law suddenly passed away I became pregnant. I can’t help but think there was something to the timing of it all.
About two months before my son was due I noticed one afternoon that he hadn’t been kicking up a storm, like usual. After a panicked call to my midwife, she had me come “just to make sure everything was ok.” It wasn’t. About eight hours after walking into her office my son was delivered via emergency C-section across the street in a local hospital. Because he needed more support than the hospital could provide, he had to be flown to a hospital with a higher level NICU. Other than the usual issues that come along with being born seven weeks early, he was healthy. Three weeks of long drives and visits that were too short, Little Man came home in time for Christmas. Best present ever!
Ever since my son was born life has truly been a journey of discovery, challenges, education, growth, and healing. And since Kundalini energy spontaneously opened, the journey has only deepened a hundred-fold.
My sincerest best wishes to everyone who is celebrating their mother, remembering their mother, who is being celebrated for being a mother, for those whose journey into motherhood was long and arduous or never came to fruition, and to all whose relationship with their mother is complicated.