She was probably your first word. She may have passed down her birthmark to you. She fed you. She clothed you. She may have scarred you for life. In all cases through her presence or non-presence, she made you who you are today.

When I was younger, people would often stop me on the street or at an event and ask me “Enty bent Gigi?” Are you Gigi’s daughter? It was a question I was proud of and dreaded sincerely at the same time. The fact that our looks were so similar that someone I didn’t even know could recognize her in me was downright scary. I would complain about it a lot, but really, I didn’t want to be mistaken for anyone else’s daughter.

Everyone has a different relationship to their mother. You may love her, you may love to hate her, you may lovingly abstain, whatever it is I’m sure some degree of love is involved. When it comes to mothers, whether we want it or not, it is always about love. In the past year my mother has been a saviour for me. Overwhelmed and not able to move she has moved with me and given me the space to grow. And yet, although I love her to death, I often find myself wondering, are we destined to become our mothers?

Personally, I think the more we age the more we find ourselves reaching back to the “nurture” part of ourselves. There is something about changing that makes us long for the familiar. In the past couple of years, with COVID especially, I’ve found myself grasping back to things I used to do and enjoy during childhood. The instability has made me long for the more stable years of my life. But that’s just me. I imagine that other people, especially if they haven’t properly digested their childhood, may fall into the trap of emulating things that shook them.

The more we age the more we find ourselves reaching back to the “nurture” part of ourselves

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about the love that’s handed down and what else gets handed down from our mothers. There is a lot of research coming out that supports the idea of transgenerational trauma. People that have been through domestic violence, child abuse, combat or war (and other life-changing events) have been proven to have chemically altered markers on their DNA. These markers are then handed down to their offspring, who live with the same effects their parents did*. It’s a bit scary to think about, and yet it makes a lot of sense. Whether we want it or not an essential part of us grows from our mothers.So, it might help when mothering to be aware of what gets handed down. And yet therein also  lies the beauty of healing from intergenerational trauma. You are not just healing yourself but a whole host of loved ones. 

I’ve often taken my mother for granted. I’ve forgotten to call her while traveling. I’ve botched the occasional Mother’s Day present, I’ve neglected to say “thank you” (a lot), and yet there is no one I am more in tune with than my mother. Whether it’s taking a year off or finding a spiritual path, my mother and I have always gravitated to the same things…at the same time. It is a feat for me to admit this freely, and yet it seems to serve as a confirmation of this legendary mother-daughter-bond phenomenon. Wherever I turn I find that my mom has been there or is on her way there.

What comes to your mind when talking about motherhood and mothering ?

How is your relationship with your mother?

Happy Mother’s Day,

Girl With One Earring

P.S: I have a friend who keeps alternating between wanting to be a mother and not wanting to look at children. For me, this is the most relatable thing I can think of in regard to motherhood at the moment

* Bessel Van der Kolk- The Body Keeps the Score