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Can I Tell My Mom Not To Be at My Child's Birth - The Atlantic PDF
Can I Tell My Mom Not To Be at My Child's Birth - The Atlantic PDF
Can I Tell My Mom Not To Be at My Child's Birth - The Atlantic PDF
Editor's Note: Every Monday, Lori Gottlieb answers questions from readers about their
problems, big and small. Have a question? Email her at
dear.therapist@theatlantic.com.
Dear Therapist,
The only time I’ve seen her be helpful or compassionate is during times of crisis,
like after a death or when someone is severely ill. She really steps up then. I know
I’ll need help post-baby, and I would love help. But I also know my mom is
destructive. What should I do with my postpartum care? And what should I do
about her long term?
Anonymous
Dear Anonymous,
Why do people ask a question to which they already know the answer? Often it’s
because they don’t trust themselves, because, through no fault of their own, their
inner voices have been distorted or silenced. Given your history, I imagine this is
what has happened to you, too.
Kids cope with this damage to their internal emotional barometers in various ways
—they rebel, they become overly compliant, or, as you did, they withdraw and
“become less visible.” Becoming less visible to a volatile mother served as
protection from her ire, but an unintended consequence was that you also became
less visible to yourself. Your inner voice became muted, while external voices
became amplified. So if people tell you to “let go of the past”—a past that’s as
recent as two years ago, when your mother walked out of your wedding—you can
barely hear the inner voice that says, If I can’t trust my mom to be there for me at my
wedding, I can’t trust her to be there for me after my child’s birth. The calibration is out
whack, and now’s the time to fix it.
One of the best things you can do to prepare for motherhood is to start trusting
your inner voice more. Becoming invisible may have been a useful strategy when
you were a powerless child, but the good news is that now you’re an adult with full
agency, and becoming invisible won’t only be counterproductive—it will be
impossible, because, like it or not, you’ll be very visible to your baby. Simply by
watching you live your daily life, your child will learn a lot about relationships, and
you will have the wonderful (and healing) opportunity to show your son or
daughter what an adult who trusts herself and isn’t besieged by self-doubt looks
like—starting with trusting the answer you already have deep inside about bringing
your mom in as your midwife.
Of course, this is going to require you to let go of a fantasy that many people with
unstable parents cling to—the hope for a different parent. In theory, you want your
mother involved with your child’s birth, but the mother you have also has the
potential to ruin it. So you shush your concerns: Maybe this time, you say to quiet
your inner voice, she’ll rise to the occasion and make this experience beautiful and
special for me. Meanwhile, your inner voice is furiously whispering: Are you insane?
Realistically, what are the odds? Your inner voice knows that unlike with the stock
market, here past performance does predict future results. It’s possible that you’d
be pleasantly surprised, but given her history of volatility, it’s more likely that a
perceived slight will send her out the door just like at your wedding. To the part of
yourself that wants to take the risk, your inner voice is saying, That’s an enormous
risk to take on a birthing experience. To the part of you that might feel guilty for
choosing do this without your expert mom, your inner voice is saying, You don’t
have to feel guilty about choosing to give birth in a way that makes you feel most relaxed
and comfortable.
As for the long term, it’s true that your mom might have a different relationship
with a grandchild than she has with you, but that’s more likely to happen the more
you trust yourself going forward and set boundaries accordingly. She may well turn
out to have a lovely relationship with your child, and though you may end up having
complicated feelings about this (Why wasn’t she this way with me?), it could be a
meaningful experience for all three generations. So go ahead and encourage those
relationships, but in ways that feel reasonable. And you’ll know what’s reasonable
and what isn’t, because, as in your letter, if you have to ask, it’s probably not.
Though you may have trouble hearing yourself, you can start now by quieting the
external voices and really listening to your own. Between the lines of your letter,
there’s an inner voice that’s loud and clear.
Dear Therapist is for informational purposes only, does not constitute medical advice,
and is not a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always
seek the advice of your physician, mental-health professional, or other qualified health
provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. By submitting
a letter, you are agreeing to let The Atlantic use it—in part or in full—and we may edit it
for length and/or clarity.
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