Being pregnant for the first time I’m scared and I want my mommy. I just don’t want my mommy.
My mom hates babies and kids, always has. She didn’t put her cigarette out on my arm or throw me in a pit of snakes, but having kids just wasn’t her diaper bag, and it showed.
I’m not here to trash my mother, only to worry that I’ll become her.
While most people say having children gives them new compassion for their parents, I’m not having that experience so far. Instead, I’m filled with a renewed, fuming and bottomless disquietude about the mom hand I was dealt, which consisted of one truly evil, now fortunately dead stepmother, and a wildly superior though still problematic biological mom, who raised me with a combination of ambivalence and benign neglect.
For her part, it was nothing personal against me, she just found all babies to be life-snatching bummers.
The syllogism was as impossible to ignore as a tot shrieking in a high chair, spitting noodles: Mom hates children. I am a child. Therefore, mom hates me. I must also be an irritating burden. In fact, I grew up thinking that everyone hates babies. It was all I knew.
Don’t get me wrong. My mom is a fun person, and people genuinely like her. If Auntie Mame were less chirpy, more medicated, and prone to dating angry, homeless Berkeley poets or leaving her kids for a month to chop trees in Vermont, that would be my mom. Part Mame, part maimed, all out of her element when it came to lullabies and hugs.
To this day, if a baby cries in a restaurant with my mom around, we all have to bail immediately, but not before she shoots the family several piercing, withering looks. Long looks. She doesn’t look away until she has properly shamed the parents for ruining her meal and her day. Even when she hears a baby laugh, she fixes her face in an expression to communicate to the world that she is being put upon, that the sounds coming from your child are no less than a knife in her brain.
I am not her, or she, or however you say it. I know it, but there are tinges of her infirmity, her intolerance, times I notice my head involuntarily snapping toward a wailing baby in a restaurant, a vestige of that sticky notion that babies are serenity-piercing killjoys.
I’m terrified that just as I have her broad shoulders and freckled skin, I may inherit her lackluster mothering skills. How can I be sure I won’t resent my baby? My therapist assures me I won’t, that true maternal detachment of my mother’s sort is very rare, that even though my baby is only half-cooked, I’m already bonded to the kid, and that seems true. Still, when I think about how much the whole experience sucked for my mom, I worry.
My mother’s exasperation with me started even before I was born.
She bought “It’s a Boy” cards when she was pregnant, just trying to sway the gender gods. Her desire for a second boy was based on this chestnut, “A boy would be your father’s problem.” This card story isn’t one she tried to hide. In fact, it was in heavy rotation on the “mom’s hilarious anecdote Top 40,” staying there for an unprecedented 20 years.
Mom’s particular bouquet of crazy sometimes has top notes of mean with a strong insensitivity finish.
“If you look at pictures, your mom holds you like a sack of potatoes, like she didn’t connect, I think she must have had that postpartum thing,” says my dad, trying to explain some of this, trying to defend her even though they have been divorced since I was three. He argues that it wasn’t her fault; she just wasn’t cut out for motherhood. In one old snapshot taken in a park somewhere, she holds me as I hold my stuffed bunny. My older brother is down at her feet, and she is looking away, yellow headband in her black hair, squinting. If there was a caption it might read, “How can I get out of this?”
When I was a baby, she got a job as a Los Angeles County school bus driver so she could afford to pay a nanny named Inez to baby-sit me for the first couple years of my life. Let that sink in for a sec: my mother, a college graduate with an above-genius IQ, preferred spending her days driving a Diesel school bus through the smog-choked San Fernando Valley to staying home with her kids, me and brother, who is a year and a half older.
When I was three, she decided she needed a break from the whole married-with-kids endeavor and left the family for six months to take a job in Chicago. By the time she got back, she was starting to get that “you’re not such a good mom” look from people, including the judge, who awarded custody of my brother and me to my dad.
My new stepmother suggested I would be better off with my mom and that’s how I ended up with her, most of the time anyway.
Once a month, starting at age four, she put me on a plane alone to see my dad. That isn’t even legal anymore; kids that young can’t fly unaccompanied. Summers and holidays, she put me on a Greyhound Bus to stay with my grandparents in Santa Barbara. Those were ten-hour bus rides, just one little girl reading Mad Magazine eating Twizzlers with an assortment of vagrants, fugitives and visitors to the California Men’s Colony. When I confronted my mom about it, she asked, “What was I supposed to do? Drive you myself all those times?” Um … yes?
Still, she is not and was not a bad person. In the end, she was simply lazy, not malicious. Here’s where I struggle to say something positive so I don’t come across like a horrible, slandering, ungrateful daughter just for telling the truth; the more self-reliant we became, the more tolerant she was, and I can say she did have some sparkling mom moments, reading us Steinbeck by flashlight when she took us to Yosemite, taking us to great grown up movies and revivals. She also encouraged me to write, something she probably regrets right about now. It was really just the baby thing.
I have been told I am at “high risk” for postpartum depression. My husband will have to look for “signs” and be prepared to toss some Prozac down my gullet if I get all withdrawn and affectless. If this happens, I’m assured that it will pass quickly. Before going ahead with the baby making, I talked about it for months with my therapist, who once offered me a million dollars if I have a baby and don’t love it. She’s positive I’m going to be fine, but she wants me to be prepared.
The plan is to get some help for the first few weeks so I don’t get too sleep-deprived. The rest is just faith. Yesterday, I was working on this column at a coffee shop when a baby started crying into his baggie of Cheerio’s. It’s not a beautiful sound to me, but I forced myself to question whether it’s the worst, or whether an even more festering sound is my mother’s voice in my head.
(This piece appears in the current edition of the Los Angeles Jewish Journal.)
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Tags: Bad Moms, Craziness, motherhood, Pregnancy
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My mom wasn’t cut out for motherhood either. She wasn’t a hugger or a sweet-talker. For years, she stared at the computer screen, scouring the internet for a new husband while ignoring her kids. But, she cooked dinner every night and I could easily manipulate her by calling myself ugly. She took that personally, as if I were implying that SHE could have ugly children. She cared, she just claimed she was “all mommied out.”
About 7 years ago, she nearly died. After that, she was positive and loving. My best friend. She died 2 years ago, unexpectedly. No warning at all. I’m very grateful for those last 5 years of really having my mom. Even though she didn’t know she was saying goodbye forever, the last thing she ever said to me was “I love you.”
Not having a “real” mommy for the majority of my life made me really yearn for that. I know that if I am ever lucky enough to have my own kids, I’ll be the best mom around. I think you will be, too. You know what it’s like to not have it, you can’t take it for granted. You’ll absolutely love the shit out of your son. He’ll always feel safe because you’re around. He’s going to be the lucky kid that people like us were jealous of.
You can also take Fishoil pills to help prevent PPD.
After reading this, and the post about your step mom, I can only say you are really too nice.
My wife had postpartum, what helped her was joining a couple online mom groups to just talk to someone in a reasonably anonymous way. They said all the things I said, but coming from moms helped her. I suspect she was afraid to tell me she was having doubts and didn’t know exactly how to be a mom instinctively.
No one told her, or me, that a baby needs to be taught to nurse. When she had difficulties she took it as a failure.
Which reminds my, your husband will try to fix it, be kind to him. He’s a man, it’s all he knows to do.
No one knows if they are ready to be a mom. Ever. You might suck, but it’s okay. Give yourself a break. So you might get postpartum. A lot of us got that. Thank goodness there are medications that you can take even before he’s born to get your body ready for it. You’ll get through it.
Really, you’ll be fine. If you aren’t that’s okay. Batman is there and no one is or was a perfect mother. Just do the best you can. You mom did the best she could too. If she could have done better she would have. Perhaps she was too much up in her head — having two children in two years can seriously screw you up.
Hey love you on the adam carolla show.. Hope you’re on there more. I think your very funny
Dearest Teresa,
Take the anti-depressant now! I was freaked out about continuing to take them while pregnant, but it’s perfectly safe and you’ll cry less about carseats! Also, you are good at self-reflection, you will be a fine parent.
Theresa,
I am joining in with the choir here. I was 32 when I had my first child. I know I waited so long because my parents were 20 and 19 when they had me. I can now attribute a lot of my not-so-great growing up experiences to that. I was worried that I might hit my kids, hate them for waking me, etc. And while there are definitely days that I have to put myself in a time-out, I am glad that I get to share my days with these two sweet souls that I have been entrusted to help navigate through life. It is the hardest and best thing I have ever done. I guess nothing worthwhile is less than that. So, even if you have a bit of post-partum depression, as I did with my first, you have wonderful support, and you are NOT your mother. Your therapist is right (and sounds a lot like my therapist…hmmm) And she will help see you through it, as will your husband. Hang on girl. It’s quite a ride and you are about to meet the most wonderful person in the world!
By the way, keep writing. You entertain and keep us sane. Thanks for saying what many of us think. It’s a godsend some days!
Wow. Very compelling essay here. About that postpartum depression thing. Yay. It’s a doozie. I’ve self-diagnosed myself as having OCD which is a form of it that is quite dangerous and unsettling. I’ve had it with all my three children. Never got any meds for it. Just a heads up to look out for it. You should pen a book. Later. Thanks for the linky love on today’s post too!
As someone with a completely different childhood than your own, meaning a mostly happy one with competent, in love (at the time) parents, I can still say that I was scared with my first child. Scared I wouldn’t live up to my mom… and super aware of the things she did that I wouldn’t want to repeat. I still say every day, “my daughter will never hear me say that I look fat or ugly” no matter how fat or ugly I may feel.
Even big as a whale with baby #2, and not a gorgeous as I’d like to be, my daughter has never heard me utter the word “fat”… and this is paranoia from someone with a good childhood!
As long as you’re determined not to repeat history, you won’t. Parenthood isn’t all that bad or hard – while i don’t ADORE other people’s kids, i’m more tolerant of them… and I’m still judgmental of other parents’ discipline techniques or rules. BUT I love and adore my own kid, more than life itself. You will too – i guarantee it as much as your shrink.
My grandmother hates kids and seems to have hated her own. She’s even admitted – in a written document – that she never wanted to be pregnant with her fourth and final child and hoped to miscarry. She’s impatient and intolerant. My cousins don’t like going to her place in part because their toddlers aren’t allowed to touch anything (but it’s okay when they’re young enough that all they do is sleep and look cute). She complains about my teenage niece being cold, but it’s partly because my grandmother has never done anything to earn my niece’s affection and instead has barked at her repeatedly.
She’s horrible towards children (grand and great grandchildren), will speak poorly of them, yell at them, lack patience with them. Years later she’ll claim that they were angels as children. Her children are much better parents and I think it’s in part because of how their mother was.
I think that being self aware is the first step to not being your mother. I’m neither a mother nor pregnant but suspect that what you’ve said resonates with many mothers and mothers-to-be. Good for you for putting it out there.
I’m going to send your article to my mom (and sign this one relatively anonymously).
That Stepmother PDF you included a link to was intense.
I remember you saying on TACS that you bought your Dad a new car and he drove all day from his house to yours. Well, now I know why you didn’t bring it to him!
Just remember that your stepmother was very deeply troubled and didn’t have anything against you personally. At least, it sounds to me like she saw you as competition and she wanted to “put you in your place” from an early start. You’ve come a LONG way since the old, damp utility room. That PDF article must’ve been really cathartic for you. Good job.
You are going to be a wonderful mother. Your son will be, and feel, loved. You know what you wish you felt as a child from the mother-figures in your life. Actively pursue providing these for your boy!
Hey Lady…I too worried about being a good mother. My husband and I would stay up nights to talk and cry about how messed up our childhoods were and how we were/are so afraid to mess up our son. I was worried about not bonding with m child because I too was not fond of crying children in public, but PLEASE believe me….it’s different when it’s YOUR baby. My son is now 15 months old, and my perspective on motherhood has changed completely. You won’t and cannot know until you have your son, but just try to believe me that it is completely different when it’s your own child. It’s a completely unique bond….one that will change your life forever in the most unbeleivably greatest way possible.
I think that when people like you and I who think and worry so much about being a good parent take the plunge and have a child, it inevitably turns out great. You’ll see!
Keep your head up! I love that I still get to listen to you on the podcasts and read your blog. Thanks for your honesty….I can totally relate.
Was I sitting next to you on the bus with all the CMC inmates on the way from San Luis Obispo to the old LA train station? I sent this one off to my sister right away because you brought all the old childhood memories flooding back. Latchkey kids had nothing on us! We were latchkey kids with a mom working a graveyard shift, although I will say ours worked because she had to and not to escape us. We were more like well-trained staff so we were actually not too unpleasant to have around. All I can say, again, is that your childhood experiences really will make you a better parent, not a clone of your mom. My sister is an amazing mom and would do anything for her babies…although I do believe that every scar on my own body is courtesy of her and our complete lack of adult supervision!
Let me start by saying that although I knew I wanted a child, I never had a clock ticking. Never craved one when I saw other people with one. my son is 6 and I’m still not fond of other people’s children, babies or bigger.
But this one is yours. And whatever crazy concepts your mother and acted on, if you want it to be different, it will be.
But take it one kid at a time. A lot of parents I know are great with their second and for some I think, it was too much of themselves that they lost in the process of serving two or more.
Good luck with everything.
There is no way in hell that you are going to become your mom. You are so cognizant of the things you don’t want to be, that I would bet my life on it. No way in hell. You are going to be a GREAT mom!
GIRL – I miss listening to you, Adam and Bald Brian on my way to work – ugh!!!!!!
I just love your writing. I loved you on While You Were Out and on the radio and I’m so happy to have found your blog.
I also wanted to say, the fact that you’re even concerned about this issue shows what an infinitely better and more connected mother you will be.
Your childhood and concerns sound familiar. I wish I could say I’m a mom and I know it all works out, but I’m not. However I’ve rarely seen anyone put as much thought and planning into a big life venture as you clearly have. When I have seen this forethought it’s always worked out. Even if you don’t love every minute of baby time you’ll make it through. I have a feeling way more mothers just do that than adore it all.
Well T, I think you are wrong. Those things that your mom did and didn’t do actually do make her a bad person. I am not saying it is her fault and that she should be locked up. But that is total mental abuse. Whether or not you feel it sometimes you have to fake it. because you are consious about it I think you will identify when you are doing to your own kid. And you probably will from time to time. I think all parents catch themselves doing repeating heir parents’ mistakes, but it your evolution that will force you to identify it and change. stop worrying so much now. Right now while this baby is inside you are the quietest times of you life. As soon as the baby dives out of your vagina (what you thought you would have to push?) that is when the real worrying begins.
I know you are focused on you, but make sure your husband is ok too. A ton of men get anxiety before the baby is born.
Keep taking those photos of yourself – you look beautiful
Love your blog! Your going to be an awesome mommy!!
OH T … I suspected we had a common history somewhere. My late beloved Mom was a rum swilling, astrology chart making, civil rights loving bohemian – who hated all babies. Like you, she used to tell the story of how when I was a tiny colic riddled baby, she simply couldn’t take another moment and closed me in a dresser drawer to block the sound until I eventually passed out from crying. Realizing today that this might warrant a casual visit from child services I can only be glad it was the 50’s. My parents were each a strange breed of cat, my mother the bohemian and my father who was just a little to the right of Dick Cheney ( I always tell folks who would like a “taste” to see The Great Santini) I to this day may they both rest in peace cannot imagine how they got together, the ONLY possible conclusion is that it must have been *legendary* sex and that of course makes me throw up in my mouth a little – eeewww – anyway, though I was never able to overcompensate as your previous responders indicated – I WAS able to make my own unique mistakes but have wound up with two kids who actually choose to hang out with me even though they don’t have to. I didn’t try to be their friend – I was working hard enough on being their Mom – but strangely they consider me a good friend with wise counsel. I still shake my head at that.
My mother was … scratch that IS a nightmare, very neglectful, and also thinks children are a burden. I’m about to have my first and I’ve watched my sister repeat my mother’s mistakes with her beautfiul 2 yr old, the only comfort I have is to keep reminding myself how much I don’t want to parent like she does, and how i’m going to do everything differently! You can use your mother as a bad example, I’m sure you’ll be a terrific mom!
Your stories of your family are different than mione, but Holy F*%$BALLS – the result is exactly the same. Recently in therapy, I remembered a time as a child when I was listening to my John Denver record in my room. The song lyric, “You felt the baby move just yesterday” was such a mystery to me. I couldn’t figure out why he was happy she was pregnant. I was 8 years old at the time and in the world I lived in – ALL children were unwanted and a pain in the ass.
My childhood nightmare has left me too frightened to have children of my own, although there have been years of longing to be a mother that have left me partially empty and sad.
Ultimately, I am at peace with my decision not to have children. I donate a lot of time mothering rescued dogs and being an advocate to troubled teens.
I’m in awe of your bravery to have a child. Ultimately, loving yourself enough to move forward and rise above your raising is what will prove that you are not the reincarnation of your mother and your heart will finally heal.
Scout
It’s amazing how our parents affect our way of life, even after we leave them. It’s amazing how the things my grandmother did to my dad affect ME today. Thankfully the human species is an ever evolving, intelligent group of omnivores. We have the capacity to think on the actions we make, and the actions that were made before us, and change them to better fit the current situation.
No one could be a better parent than you can for your child. The idiosyncrasies that you have with your little boy now have bonded you even more than you know. Your mom had that when she took you camping in Yosemite and her idiosyncratic connection to you was through Steinbeck. While I can’t stand my dad now and hate him for how he parented, hearing someone play an acoustic guitar immediately brings me back to moments when he would sing to us and play the guitar – when he was a good dad.
The test of successful parenting is when they hate you now for being a good parent, but thank you later when they realize you were right. I remember my mom (the good parent) when I am in the kitchen doing dishes, because she was very strict about us doing chores and not being allowed to play until we finished them correctly. I thank her for that now because I do know how to properly keep a house clean (clean clothes, cook, clean thoroughly).
Teresa, I think you will be ok. Everything about my parents that I did not like and hoped to do differently, I have done. You will develop your own faults, but they will be new things.
Oh Teresa… anyone who worries as much as you do about whether or not you’re going to be a good mother is already a good mother!
I do love your “mom’s hilarious anecdote Top 40″ part. For the sake of my reading it, I mean. Not for the sake of you living it.
Teresa, thank you for having the courage to say out loud what many of us are also thinking but afraid to say. While I too worry about the mother I am (and will become again in 10 days), I find that there is a a strange comfort in knowing that these worries are not new. My own mother probably had the same worries about her mothering skills towards my grandmother, as will my daughter have towards me (yes, we probably all do need therapy!). We women are often just doing the best we can. There has to be some consolation in that.
T~ You are going to be a wonderful mother.
Oh Teresa! It’s so refreshing to hear that you have some of the same concerns. I’m 27 weeks pregnant and SO paranoid that I’ll do to my child what my mom did (and still does) to me (and her’s did to her). This is yet another reason why it’s a good thing that you’re having a boy…not Mother/Daughter issues.
I too saw a therapist and she reassured me that because I’m aware of the pattern and have the capability of self-reflection, etc….it won’t happen again. Hopefully, that bit of information will help you out. I’m RELYING on it!
Oh, Teresa, your writing is magnificent! No wonder you’re one of my top three famous Jewish women I wish I were friends with. Best of luck to you!
Teresa, I love you and I miss you on the radio!
You’re beautiful, and you’re going to be a great mom!!!
All of us reading your blog are wishing all best for baby,you and Batman. You are full of love….. and baby.
I had very similar worries before I had my son. My mother was not (is not) very good at being affectionate. I imagine she must have just put me in my crib a lot of the time and expected me to play on my own. Eventually, that’s what I did. I worried I’d be like that with my kid.
Parenting is very overwhelming in the first few months, so you cannot set your expectations too high for loving motherhood right out of the gate. But after you’ve gotten over that initial shock, one day your maternal instinct just kicks in and you do what is natural. Now I’m not at all like my mother and my son is very happy, and very secure. If anything, I think you tend to overcompensate for the lackluster parenting you suffered through.