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I believe most mothers, including me, are yo-yo mamas. |
This has nothing to do with yo-yo dieting or baby fat, which comes and goes, and goes and comes with each subsequent baby, and then pretty much stays.
It has to do with yo-emotions.
I feel happy seeing my child take his first steps.
I feel sad knowing he will soon run away from me.
I feel happy when my child learns to form sentences.
I feel sad when he says, “I no like you, Mommy” (even though I also feel happy that he is secure enough in our relationship to say such things).
I feel happy as my child becomes a successful, well-adjusted adult.
I feel sad that he doesn’t appear to need me anymore, so much so that I find myself at 4am curled into the foetal position in his apartment, sobbing, so that I won’t be heard, into a pile of dirty towels on the floor.
This flip-flop happy-sad can occur in the same minute, the same second. And it continues forever, throughout a yo-yo mama’s tenure, beginning with pregnancy.
lCannot wait to get this baby out of me.
Miss that baby’s kicks.
lCannot wait for baby to wean.
Miss those tender moments.
lCannot wait for baby to make his own PB & Js (the peanut butter and jelly sandwich, popular in North America).
Look at that mess.
lCannot wait for child to go to school.
My babeeee!
And it isn’t just the letting-go, growing-up stuff.
I used to love it when my baby took an especially long nap on a Saturday afternoon.
I also hoped he would hurry up and wake so he would go to bed early.
A mother once told me she felt good about dropping her children off for their first day of school.
But then she felt bad.
“I wondered why I was considered a good mom when I left them with total strangers for the entire day.” says Christine, whose children are teenagers now. “If I did this in other instances, I would have been considered a horrible parent.”
Some might label this kind of thinking neurotic.
I call it adaptable.
This - not the fact that we can run a company while buying soccer cleats - is why we are Superwomen.
A mother can navigate this yin-yang of thought and emotion while maintaining status quo as Mother Nurturer Supreme. Like a dedicated cellist perfecting his scales in his studio, day after day, hour after hour, we do this work alone.
Much as we would like to, most of us don’t chase after our children screaming “Please don’t leave me!” as they get on the middle-school bus for the first time.
Some of us try to engage our partners and non-mommy friends. But it doesn’t always work.
“I’m feeling really happy now about (Benjie/Emily/Chris),” I say.
“I thought you were feeling really sad,” says he.
“Dude! What? Are you kidding? That was 10 minutes ago. I’m chapters past that now.”
Recall almost any Holly Hunter movie: Broadcast News. Raising Arizona. One minute, she was crying, the next, laughing.
I don’t think she was acting.
Women are born with this yo-yo capability. Blame it on prolactin, which is the hormone that makes people cry, which women have more of than men. Blame it on socialisation and the fact that women are encouraged more than men to express their emotions. Add to this the umbilical cord, which somebody allegedly cut in the delivery room, which was never fully severed. And you’ve got full-blown yo-yo mama.
When all is said and done, I’d like to think this is more blessing than curse.
A mother’s ability to quietly navigate the dualistic experience of raising children, only to let them go - and staying sane while doing it - is the stuff of sages and theologians.
This makes us not just yo-yo mama. This makes us sanctifiable.
♦ Debra-Lynn B Hook of Kent, Ohio, has been writing about family life since 1988 when she was pregnant with the first of her three children. Visit her website at www.debralynnhook.com.; e-mail her at [email protected], or join her column’s Facebook discussion group at Debra-Lynn Hook: Bringing Up Mommy