Whether or not you have given birth, many of us have found ourselves in the position of ‘mothering’. It might be a new puppy, recently separated from its mamma. To it, the end of the world has come and its cries tear at our hearts, so we offer whatever solace we can. It might be caring for an abandoned or injured animal, making sure it is okay until it can be taken to a rehabilitation facility for wild animals. For those of us who have been teachers, it is every child who walks into our classroom. While they each may have a loving and caring family, when they are in our care, we are their ‘mothers’. And that is true whether we, as the teachers, are male or female.
I have found myself in that position several times, giving support and guidance to students, as well as my own children and grandchildren, and most recently to my youngest granddaughter. She moved in with me while she attends college, and it has been quite an experience.
Firstly, let me say that I raised two sons. No daughters. And I have repeatedly affirmed that God knew what he was doing when he didn’t give me girls. Boys are different, though not necessarily easier, to raise than girls. There is none of that mother-daughter rivalry with boys that so often develops in households with females. And we were very blessed that my husband knew how to ‘father’ sons.
So, I was not prepared to be the surrogate mother to a young woman on the cusp of independence, ready to be a woman but still a child. She still needed mothering. She still needed guidance. She didn’t really want it!
Of all my grandchildren, she is the Drama Queen. That is with capital letters, a crown, and a scepter. I, on the other hand, see no earthly reason for drama. You can probably discern the potential problems roiling beneath the surface.
In all fairness, I tried to allow her as much freedom as possible. I had been through this stage before with my own children, but this was going to be a different kind of challenge. A girl challenge.
Though during their younger years, my children had talked about their girlfriends, had sought advice, and moped about when things had not gone well with their newest sweetie, I had seldom had to comfort them as they sobbed uncontrollably on my shoulder, declaring between loud wails that their lives were over and wishing death on the offending culprit. But I have held the granddaughter as she cried until there were no more tears. Offered what advice and solace I could and quietly hoped she would not have to go through this anymore. All the time, knowing we would play out this scenario again – several times – because I had. Why would I think she would escape such pains of growing into maturity?
As parents, we always hope our children will have an easy time during the process of growth. Sometimes, I think, people do escape the agony of maturing. But most of us go through those turbulent times and we come out stronger for it. It helps us in many ways to gain a different perspective, to gain a new level of integrity, and to learn how to forgive, even if we don’t forget.
Over the time my granddaughter has lived with me, I have seen her develop into a young woman ready to face the world. She will graduate from college soon and will be moving out of my house and on to a new stage of life.
It has not been an easy period for either of us. My initial demands were not to her liking because she had not expected the level of accountability I required. I was, after all, ‘Grandma’. But we found common ground and made it work. We both have learned respect; me for her independence and her for my expectations.
As she moves away from me, it will be difficult to face the empty nest syndrome once more. I did not like it the other two times I made that journey. This time will be no easier. But, as she goes, I know she will go with a new confidence that she did not have when she first came to me. I will watch her go with pride that the things she has learned, begun in her father’s home, were honed in mine. She has skills. They will serve her well. We have done all we can do for her. The rest is up to her. But she knows there will always be a place in Grandma’s house should she ever need it.
Happy Mothers’ Day to all you moms, surrogate moms, dads who fill mom’s shoes, grandparents… you know who you are. Enjoy your day.
