Mother’s Day and my parenting demons

When your child is screaming at you for help, you want to make everything better.

When your child is screaming at you for help with setting up a Playmobil game and you’re in the middle of wiping your other child’s bum, not so much.

I have two daughters. Both are incredible people, with strong characters all of their own. But one, my oldest (let’s call her ‘A’), is what many call Spirited. She’s one of the most strong-willed people I know; a leader rather than a follower. She’s only six years old but she gives the impression she could move mountains if she wanted to, if only Mummy and Daddy would stop doing useless things like laundry and work and just help her push this little piece of rock from here to there. She knows exactly how that mountain can be moved, she just can’t (or, more likely, won’t) do it on her own.

Raising A is hard. She’s amazingly caring and sensitive on one hand; but on the other “though she be but little, she is fierce.” (Why, yes, I did just deploy Shakespeare, thank you for noticing.)

When A gets angry, everyone knows about it. The world stops turning. We have to deal with the Crisis of A. Our spirits will be bruised, and probably our skin too, but this is a cause worth supporting. Some might label her as naughty or a trouble-maker, but we don’t see her like that. There’s this insecure and anxious little girl hiding behind a big voice and a head full of big ideas, which most definitely do not include reading even one word of her school book, thank you very much. It’s hard for me to keep my own temper in response to these frequent explosions, especially when our littlest gets caught in the blast. But when I do manage it, I’m finding that patience, kindness and cuddles are so much more effective in helping A to deal with her own emotions. You see, above all, A needs constant and obvious demonstrations of our love. Sometimes, it feels like however much we give her, it will never be enough.

I recently read Philippa Perry’s ‘The Book You Wish Your Parents Had Read (and Your Children Will be Glad That You Did)’, and it felt as though I was having a gigantic dose of compassion and forgiveness drip-fed into my brain. I think most parents are inclined to question themselves: am I doing this right? Will my child be ok with me as a parent? Should we have sleep-trained after all, introduced a naughty step, created reward charts? But when that parent struggles with anxiety and low self-esteem, like I do, well, then it’s basically a constant internal soundtrack of self-doubt. So, to have the approach I aim for reflected back at me by Perry, a psychotherapist, has been really rewarding and given me an increased confidence in my parenting.

A was two when I was pregnant with her little sister. She used to cling tight to my legs. Tuck herself up inside my clothes, her head jammed uncomfortably against my back. Try to climb right into my womb (or so it seemed) when I went for a quiet lie down to rest my tired, baby-growing body and frazzled mind. I had a difficult pregnancy mental health-wise, and I found all of this super-stressful, experiencing it as a pressure to give myself entirely to A, when I didn’t feel I had anything left to give. My anxiety grew alongside her fear of rejection. They fed off each other. In some ways, my beautiful girl became The Enemy, and that continued after her sister was born, when my anxiety gained a sibling of its own: post-natal depression.

I sought help and have been working hard ever since to help us both overcome the damage caused as I pushed her away again and again without even realising it. Along with regular counselling sessions, Philippa Perry’s book (plus a variety of other reading, improving podcasts and supportive Facebook groups) has given me some clarity on that, and is helping me to shed the guilt, layer by difficult layer.

Why am I writing this? Baring the darkest corners of my soul in this way? Well, here in the UK, yesterday was Mother’s Day. I was treated to a glorious bunch of tulips, home-made cake, carefully created cards, two special breakfasts and a handwritten note: “to mum you ar migh veree best mum” (top marks for phonics, A!).

But I still don’t feel I deserve it.

So, I’ve written this for all the other parents and caregivers who struggle. It’s not just you! Do you know what? I bet you’re actually doing great; you’re so much more than you think you are, whether you’re going through a bad patch or a sunny one. I know coronavirus and its associated restrictions, lockdowns and periods of remote schooling have highlighted what a delicate balance there is between the demands of work and home. But I don’t think many of us truly acknowledge how much parents are doing day in, day out, just by keeping going. Whatever ‘keeping going’ looks like for you, you are being the best you can be right now.

You deserve to be shown how special you are. You’re special to your kids, whether they’re little like mine or all grown up like me. You’re unique. They love you simply for being you, for being there for them, for wiping those bums and playing with those toys. Part of me’s even starting to believe it about myself!

And if the feelings of self-doubt are overwhelming, you feel sad or despairing, then speak to someone. Other parents, the NCT, your doctor, a counsellor. Don’t be alone.

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