Motherhood: “Beginning the Long Good-bye”
Motherhood.
Tomorrow we celebrate, contemplate, consider… motherhood: moms, grandmothers, aunts, daughters-turned-moms — all part of our national obsession with celebrating categories of people, with their title, roles and characters firmly set into place by Hallmark, who has created an American pastime of sentimentalizing what can be beautiful - yes; but what can often be complex, difficult and often heartbreaking.
I am a mother and a grandmother, and damn proud of that accomplishment. I have two lovely, smart and incredibly gifted daughters who are also moms, and my heart beats in a glorious, joyful rhythm when I see just how wonderfully they have embraced and walked-out the role of motherhood.
Earlier this week, I came across a poem by Kathleen Norris, a poet and NYT best-selling author of Amazing Grace, The Cloister Walk, and Dakota, as well as numerous poems. In her poem, Ascension, this closing verse took my breath away, and gave me serious pause to consider motherhood from a different vantage-point than Hallmark:
“Now the new mother, that leaky vessel,
begins to nurse her child,
beginning the long good-bye.”
I don’t think I’ve ever read such a heartbreaking yet accurate picture of motherhood. As any mother will tell you, a mother’s journey ultimately is always about learning to say good-bye. We might not think of that when we are nursing the newborn, or changing dirty diapers, or running to soccer practices, piano lessons and dance recitals, or sparring with a mouthy teen over the current crise-du-jour; our minds may not bear the thinking of it, but our hearts are always aware that good-bye is just around the corner. Our hearts are always on the edge of breaking.
Motherhood is an amazing experience; it is miracle and mystery and paradox. The miracle of new life never ceases to amaze me. In my working years when I was involved in litigating medical cases, those cases that involved fertility, birth and newborn care were the most fascinating and the most complex. Heart and kidney transplants were nothing in complexity compared to the vast resources required to keep a 22 week-old preemie alive. The miracle of conception, pregnancy and birth is truly miracle and mystery on a level that is difficult to comprehend. Ask any woman who’s gone through the heartbreak of trying to conceive, or trying to keep a pregnancy to a healthy birth. A miracle indeed.
The amount of heart-energy, love and caring mothers pour into their children is awe-inspiring, and is likely one of the reasons that Mother’s Day evokes such sentimental responses from those of us who stand in awe of what our mothers did for us growing up. Looking back, I see now the sacrifices my own mother made to ensure that the five of us were well-fed, well-clothed and brought up as good Catholics (in my parents’ view, that was of paramount importance). That being said, having a “good mom” isn’t a guarantee. This is a broken world, and mothers fail us - some far more than others, whether due to addictions, mental health issues or past trauma struggles. For those whose mothers were abusive, absent or unloving, mothers are not a cause for celebration. For many grown children of mothers who fell far short of the Hallmark ideal, Mother’s Day simply brings back the pain and heartache of abuse and rejection. There is mystery, here, in motherhood - even in its brokenness and failures. Very often, the love of mother and child survives even the deep-seated pain of heartbreak. It makes no sense, but it’s true nonetheless. A mystery.
The paradox of motherhood is that regardless of what life is throwing my way, or what or where my daughters are, my heart is always and forever saying “good-bye” as my love continues to grow and overflow into rivers of love I didn’t know I possessed. We say good-bye when we walk them to their first day of kindergarten; we say good-bye when we drop them off at their first-ever sleep-away camp; we say good-bye when we drive away from that teeny-tiny dorm room, miles away from home. We wave good-bye at the airport when she gets on a plane for Africa on a great six-month adventure; or when she says “I do” at the altar, holding the hand of her beloved. There are a thousand good-byes - and they’re all good, and each breaks a mother’s heart a little more each time.
The paradox of motherhood is that the heartbreak of good-bye is as necessary as that newborn’s first feeding at the breast. As a new mom looks lovingly at her newborn, she is already experiencing that long good-bye. It’s the nature of things, and I’d not have it any other way.
The paradox of motherhood is that it’s messy, hard, mysterious, miraculous - and yes, glorious. It is complex and yet likely one of the most rewarding experiences for a woman, if she is so privileged. And the long good-byes are just as heart-felt for adoptive moms as they are for birth moms; motherhood is less a physical reality and far more an emotional one. It is love that transforms a mother’s heart. It is love that begins the long good-bye, because we all know that the best mothers always let their young go, with a smile as well as a tear. Good moms hold one close, yet readily let go and yes - say good-bye. Over and over and over again.
As we wish our moms a happy day and gather with family this weekend, remember: the journey of good-byes is filled with love. In the end, it’s all we need.