There There, Pussycat
In her book, Expecting Adam: A True Story of Birth, Rebirth, and Everyday Magic, author Martha Beck says “...the word mother is more powerful when it is used as a verb than as a noun. Mothering has little to do with biological reproduction—as another friend once told me, there are women who bear and raise children without ever mothering them, and there are people (both male and female) who mother all their lives without ever giving birth (Beck 2011).”
When my daughter was still a toddler, I teamed up with a friend and started a book club. A few years in I figured out that as much as I loved getting together with the ladies for snacks and drinks, I really prefer to pick my own books. But I digress. Anyway, I chose Expecting Adam by Martha Beck as the inaugural book. Never heard of it? I would check it out if I were you. I'll spare you a long, flowery description of what it's about and why I love it, and sum it up in a nutshell: it's about motherhood. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I read it for the first time somewhere in my early 20’s. I loved it, but it definitely hit different after having a child of my own.
When I re-read this wonderful book, this time it was from the perspective of someone who was knee-deep in the mommy trenches, and man, could I relate. Especially the quote with which I started this article. I always prided myself on having keen “maternal instincts” - even before I entered the field of motherhood - but they have definitely been put to the test during the past twelve years. I’ve discovered that the more I mother my daughter, the more mothering I crave. Yeah, I'm 50 years old and I still want my mommy. Now more than ever, in fact. Sadly, I lost my mom in 2016 when my daughter was three. It was a difficult time and a terrible loss for so many reasons, not the least of which was that I still had so many questions about being a mother myself, and her calm demeanor and endless patience was always deeply comforting.
Fortunately for me, as the quote implies, you really can find mothering anywhere if you keep your mind open. What do I mean by mothering? The way I see it, it’s about caring for someone else by making them feel safe, loved, and attended to. They are present. When someone is mothering you, you’re not alone. They will share your burden and hold your hand until you can walk on your own. This is what I do for my daughter, but also for my family, friends and neighbors. It’s who I am, and who I’ve always been. But sometimes I need mothering too.
I talk a lot about self-care, because - especially as a parent - it’s really easy to lose yourself in the daily shuffle of focusing so intently on the needs of others. But, you know what? Sometimes I need someone else to take the reins, listen to me vent, tell me it’s going to be okay, or make me laugh when I want to cry. Sometimes when I’m feeling weak, I need someone else to be strong enough to hold me up. When I was a little girl, and I was stressing out about this or that, my Granny used to pat my hand and say “there there, pussycat.” I know I’m half a century old, but dammit, sometimes I just really need that pat on the hand. Don’t you?
You know how they say “give ‘till it hurts?” At times I’ve felt like I go beyond that, and I give until I’m numb. I promise I’m not whining here, I’m just telling it like it is. When you nurture, and worry, and pamper, and serve, and try to anticipate the needs of others day after day, it starts to feel like some part of you is emptying out little by little. You have to be strong all the time. And that’s okay, I’m up for it. Until I’m not. Sometimes I get to the point where it feels like I have nothing left to give and I need to replenish my stores of empathy. So here’s my question: what happens when mommy gets sick, or she’s in pain, or something bad happens in her life and now the tables are turned and the mother needs to be mothered? Then what do you do?
The thing is, sometimes mothering just shows up when you need it, and other times you have to seek it out. It’s amazing when people can just tell that you need to be mothered, and give you exactly the kind of comfort you need at that moment. Either because they’re an empathetic person, or they’ve been there, or are simply at the right place at the right time. I’ve been lucky enough to be surrounded by that kind of support at many different times and places in my life. It is truly a blessing.
The hard part is asking for help. Trust me, I know. I’ve never been good at it, but I’m trying. If you come across as fairly confident, or have learned to keep your feelings close to the vest, it may be hard for people to tell when you need to be taken care of. Even a small request like “I need a hug” can be difficult to convey. It’s easy to fall into a they-should-just-know trap, especially with your significant other. But keep in mind that it may be difficult for those around you - who are used to being cared for by you - to sense when you’re running out of steam and need to lean on them. In that case, you’ve gotta put your big girl panties on and ask for what you need. It’s worth it.
In Expecting Adam, the author relates a story told to her by a friend about a difficult time in her life, when she was laying in a hospital bed late at night, feeling scared and alone. As she lay there crying, a woman came into her room to clean the floors. The woman kept glancing over as she mopped, then finally she stopped what she was doing, went into the bathroom and returned with a bowl of warm water and a cloth. She began to wash the woman’s hands, face and feet while talking to her in a calming voice. Even though the woman was speaking in a language she didn’t understand, the author’s friend knew exactly what she meant, because it was the language of mothering. Sounds meant to soothe and reassure (Beck 2011). This touched me, because it is truly a universal language that fulfills a fundamental need. Sometimes even the strongest people among us just need to hear “there there, pussycat.”
Updated from previous version published 1/15/2017