Courage and Motherhood

Writing this blog is the first time I have consciously put those two ideas together. Long overdue! I am exploring what courage means to women through interviews to make up my Women of Courage series. For that reason, I want to explore this idea for myself. 

I am a mom of two wonderful young women, 22 and 17, respectively. Here are a few things I've learned along the way about courage and how it came knocking on the door of motherhood, looking for a home.

To begin with, I define courage simply as doing the thing that frightens you. Because I had always wanted to be a mom, it never occurred to me to be afraid of motherhood. It wasn't until I had kids that I realized just how much courage it took each day to be the mom I wanted to be: present, loving, understanding, and forgiving. Let me reiterate; it takes courage to be a good mom, and courage comes in many forms. First of all, can we all agree that it's a massive leap of faith to promise your tiny, squalling child an extraordinary life? When reality sets in, it may not be that easy to deliver on that promise. When my girls were little, I got away with a lot because they did not question me—not being able to talk worked in my favour. 

The challenges started when they began to communicate and learned the dreaded words, why and no. Some conversations deteriorated even further when they began to question, extrapolate, reason, and consequently point out my lack thereof. "That's not what you said yesterday!" How do you explain to your child that sometimes, as a mom, I didn't need a good reason to change my mind? These tearful exchanges invariably left me more unsettled than the girls. I was the one questioning my parenting skills and would inevitably wonder what my mom would have done in my place. My mother, by the way, is the best mom ever. See earlier blog.

One day, when my oldest was in grade school, I found her on the verge of tears on my bed. When I asked what was wrong, she haltingly announced that she needed to start exercising because a kid at school taunted her with "You're fat!" At first, amidst anger and shock, I didn't immediately understand my part in this drama. It took me a couple of days to realize the disservice I had inadvertently done to my daughter. You see, I had always been self-deprecating about my weight in front of her. She heard me flippantly say things like "God, I'm fat" and "I need to lose weight." When she looked up at me from my bed with tears on her face and asked, "Mummy am I fat?" I died a little inside. I remember gathering her in my arms and gently rocking her. I quietly told her that no, she wasn't overweight and didn't need to diet. She was ten years old and hurting. I was 43 and devastated. It took time for me to realize that I was overwhelmed by my behaviour while I was mad at that bloody bully at her school. 

It took courage for me to admit my part in my daughter's skewered body image. I had inadvertently taught her the mistaken importance of looking a certain way or being a certain weight. Shame on me! What if I had taught her to love herself regardless of her size? And that her self-worth should be connected to her spirit instead of her weight? Would she have laughed in that child's face and moved on? Perhaps she wouldn't have even viewed the comment as hurtful? If I admitted to that failure, what other failings would come to light? I thought I was a great mom; hell, I still believe that, but boy, I know now that wasn't always the case, at least in this respect. 

Admitting that I needed to change the way I spoke to myself was difficult and scary. It took courage to look at my failings, real or perceived, as I developed into the mom I am today. 

It also took courage to go against what other moms said or did. It was courageous to stick to my guns and not bend when the tears came or the pleading started, and mons exchanged looks. Sometimes it was bold to ask my husband for help or a hug. 

It has taken years, but I have changed my narrative around my health and weight and am very conscious of the words I use today.

What have I learned from this introspection? I've learned that it's ok to struggle with being a mom. I have learned that it is a blessing to have created opportunities to face your fears and insecurities. How wonderful to have been courageous even if no one knew. 

I've also learned that all I can ask of myself at any given moment is my best, and often, my best takes courage.