I severed ties with my mother nearly two years ago and haven’t exchanged a single word with her since that pivotal day; she has never met my third child.
Occasionally, the individual who nurtured you in her womb, welcomed you into this world, and was supposed to provide you with unconditional love fails to fulfill that promise. That’s my mother.
While there were moments she made an effort, they were fleeting, leaving me to pick up the pieces even as a child. It was a painful experience, and ultimately, I reached a point where I could no longer accommodate her presence in my life.
So, I made the difficult decision to disconnect. Unlike previous attempts, I have not allowed her back in. I have established firm boundaries that I maintain for the sake of my own well-being and my family’s stability; after all, they rely on me to be the best version of myself each day, which is unfeasible when I carry the weight of years of emotional turmoil.
As a preteen, I promised myself I would never mirror my mother’s behavior. Each time she hurt, abandoned, or betrayed me, I vowed to be her opposite in every conceivable way. I resolved to be present for my children daily, prioritize our relationship, and fulfill their needs—mentally, emotionally, and financially. They would receive everything necessary for success, including my unwavering love and support. I would work tirelessly to provide them with a wonderful life, refusing to settle for a partner who didn’t share these aspirations.
These were profound thoughts for a ten-year-old, but circumstances forced me to mature quickly.
In many respects, I have upheld my commitments. I am blessed with three incredible children who fill my heart with joy each day. Each one is unique and irreplaceable, and I feel immense pride in being their mother. My partner has become my best friend—a truly exceptional father who supports me wholeheartedly.
Yet, I often find myself critically reflecting on my parenting. I struggle with guilt over minor missteps, fearing that my children might grow to resent me, just as I resent my mother. The mere thought of being estranged from my children causes a tightening sensation in my chest, as if someone is squeezing my heart—a nightmare scenario.
Like many parents, there are days when I falter. I lose my patience, raise my voice, and sometimes completely lose control. In those challenging moments, I catch a glimpse of my mother’s influence and think, “Here I am, Sam. The cycle is continuing, and you’re replicating her mistakes.” The guilt envelops me.
Instead of acknowledging these as common parental shortcomings and promising to improve, I obsess over them. I lose sleep, imagining all the ways my actions may adversely affect my children, convinced they will remember these moments and resent me as adults.
At times, I question if this is my karma—my punishment for not accepting the mother I was given, for not enduring the emotional abuse, gaslighting, and manipulation as a form of penance for her birthing me.
It’s a convoluted perspective, I realize, but having a mother like mine complicates your reality.
I’ve worked hard to process my feelings about my childhood and manage my parental guilt. I acknowledge that I will always be a work in progress. I can accept that I will make mistakes because perfection in parenting is unattainable.
I may not be flawless, but I am a good mother. I am committed to raising, loving, and supporting my children. Why? Because I show up every day, through thick and thin.
More importantly, I want to be here. I want my children to know they are my top priority, that my love for them is unconditional. I want them to see that I value our family above all else. I want them to feel safe and cherished, to understand they can confide in me, that I will always be their refuge.
I am achieving this. I am giving my children what I never received, living up to my childhood vow to not become my mother. Yes, echoes of her sometimes surface, and they can be disconcerting. But I am not her.
I am not my mother because I am dedicated to self-improvement, to apologizing when I err, and to showing up consistently—through the easy times as well as the hard. That’s what mothers do; we rally and we persist.
Just the other day, I asked my eldest child, my seven-year-old daughter, “Do you know how much your mama loves you?” She responded, without hesitation, “Of course, I do, Mom.”
I believe my children will be okay. And if you find yourself in a similar situation, with a parent like mine, and you are striving daily to do better, your kids will be alright too.
For more insights on this journey, check out our other blog posts, including information on how to navigate parenthood effectively here. For authoritative guidance on home insemination, visit Make a Mom. Additionally, an excellent resource for understanding artificial insemination can be found here.
Summary:
In this reflection on motherhood, the author discusses her decision to distance herself from her own mother due to a painful and toxic relationship. She recounts her vows to break the cycle of neglect and emotional turmoil, striving to be a loving and present parent to her three children. While she acknowledges her imperfections and the fear of repeating her mother’s mistakes, she recognizes her commitment to improvement and the unconditional love she provides to her family.