Motherless daughters or Daughterless mothers?
The grief of feeling unwanted and unneeded.
One in fifteen children and teens. according to Hope Edelman, author or Motherless Daughters, have lost a parent before they turn 18. That percentage may have grown. Her groundbreaking 30-year-in-the-making work focuses on motherless daughters who’ve lost their mum during those developmentally important years, and its impact in the aftergrief* process.
Today however I pondered on the notion, one not potentially even considered yet, of daughterless mothers – whether daughters have died or, in my case, still living.
Grief for us mums who’ve experienced empty nest know the pining for the ones who’ve flown the nest, amidst other feelings that often accompany the menopause tirade of changes. The loss of identity felt, the familiar role one played and the heart-breaking question to self of “am I really needed or wanted anymore?”
I’ve always taken great pride and had a feeling of blessed responsibility in being a mum of 6, (3 of whom lost their birthmum in a car accident while they were 11 months, 4 and 7 years old and 3 who I birthed) - with my soulful wish and expectation that I would be my daughters’ (and sons’) confidente in the joys of life, but especially when times are tough.
They’ve all had some rocky roads, but why is it they’ve found other “surrogate mothers” to be their confidente and not me? That’s more painful than the contractions of childbirth. It’s mind-bending and deeplysoul-wrenching. In fact, this week it’s felt torturous as one of my daughters faced another life milestone and I have continued to feel discarded. A milestone worth hosting the best of parties. A feminine milestone well deserved of wise woman honouring. A miracle occasion that merited celebration and Godly gratitude. But all, minus me in the mix. Ouch…
But such a “daughterless mother moment” stings more as it reminds me of the numerous other times when I was not part of the party, last on the phone or invitation list, or un-given to on occasions when I’d appreciate at least a block of chocolate.
Patience is my middle name. Allowing souls (a.k.a adults kids) to live their lives in their unique way and follow their own lifepath has been a strong value I’ve lived by and enacted. But this has often backfired - leaving me feeling “daughterless” when I have 4 (+ 2 sons) and feeling I’m in the firing line without them even noticing they’ve got a gun in their hands by simply getting on with their lives without me.
My lesson. I’m having to be daughter and mother to self - a midlife grief and recovery lesson that menopausal experts seldom, if ever, address. Grief to be felt for my girls. Grief for me to feel in my body. And perhaps my gift to them was independence, freedom and self-care.
*2020, Ballantine Group. The Aftergrief – Finding your way along the long arc of loss. Hope Edelman
On Children Kahlil Gibran 1883 – 1931
And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, Speak to us of Children.
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.
From The Prophet.
