Two weeks ago, my daughter became a brand new mother. What a thrilling time for her, for her husband, and for me as her mother.

It was so exciting to hear the news that my daughter, my baby girl was pregnant. It was such a blessing to watch her both glow and grow in size and stature with her own little one developing inside of her. It was amusing telling her “yes, the morning sickness would go away’, “yes she was tired’ and knowing that would get worse, “yes, she could do that’, “yes that was normal’, but at the same time accepting and comprehending exactly what she was going through, reliving the event of my own pregnancy with her at that tender age but such a long time ago!

It was so exciting watching her experiencing the joys of that first pregnancy, of seeing the happiness glow from her, in knowing that the two of them have made this baby…their own little extension of themselves.  My daughter and I are very close and I was elated in the sharing of weekly and generally daily news of what was happening pregnancy wise and how she was feeling about this little creature of joy growing inside her. (Not to mention the numerous three way phone call chats with my GP/obstetric husband about ‘what she could eat and could not eat and could do or could not do’! It was such a joy to be with her and see her experience that tiny baby bump nurture and increase in size….making her feel like the added weight gained was definitely for a good cause. To accompany her on shopping outings for the pram, the car seat, the baby clothes, nappies, and basic preparedness for this newborn life. Overall sharing with her the apprehension and unexpectedness of what was happening and waiting with her for it to be all finalised and complete.

Then to see my daughter have the thrill of that little person once in her tummy growing and tumbling around, gradually giving her more aches and pains and sleepless uncomfortable nights to be now ready, nature accomplished, of a baby prepared to be born, to face the world of living a life on the outside with her own special mother and father. To wait for the update from my son in law that their little one was delivered and mother and daughter were doing well! To watch my daughter and husband proudly announce the news to the world with great euphoria that their own little one they have created has now entered into your family, into their special world as new mum and dad, and into my world of grandparent reality. To rush to the hospital one hour after the birth to wait to cuddle this new baby of my own baby I so cherish highly, in my loving proud grandparent arms. For her to acknowledge all she had gone through so far as an expectant mother to know that holding this little bundle of joy in her arms was all worth it!

Worth it? Of course it is worth it! Every minute! But along the way, they do not tell you how hard being a new mother is going to be! All those antenatal classes and experts telling you the whys and wherefores, but they do not tell you exactly what it is really like to be a new mother. And they certainly do not tell you how hard it is to be the mother of this brand new mother!

Motherhood means feeling a kaleidoscope of emotions simultaneously – fear, happiness, worry, angst, pride. It also means being an advocate and a revolutionary who empowers her children to engage in society in a meaningful, fun, vibrant way. It is the most human thing I know I have ever done. As a mother you definitely learn on the job, you nurture your little baby, your child and hold their hand tight. Then as a teenager, you stand back, holding that hand less tight, but trailing with a finger still hooked if needed. Then as an adult  you stand back and watch them lead their own lives, marry or engage in a partnership and one day create a new life from their own, knowing all the time that your job as their mother was definitely worth it and they could carry on from this point onwards. But that is not true. Motherhood defined as how you stretch your heart in ways you never thought possible. It is how you love through the ups and down, the challenges that life brings .Most of all it lasts a lifetime from that first tiny cry. I have learnt that lesson clearly these past few weeks. Because with the joy, elation and apprehension for the new mother come other different emotions for the old mother! A true tale of the tantalising, tormenting loving undertakings of what it means to be a mother no matter how old you are.

And It All Begins.

My daughter’s baby arrived three weeks earlier than expected and being breech, decided upon a caesarean entrance to the world. The birth plans for labour went out the window and never-before-in-my-life had surgery followed by pain and exhaustion was not quite what was anticipated in her planned birth plan. But positivity and statements from her mother of “a birth is a birth and the outcome is still the same- a baby” helped I hoped to eased the apprehension of this unplanned delivery.  And the new child arrives. Entering the hospital furtively but thrilled to see my daughter quietly lying there in a darkened world with this naked little one skin to skin contact only a few hours after her birth was so emotional. Yes, I cried as I watched my baby girl, my daughter serenely lying there with her own little daughter wrapped in her arms. What an experience! One I will never ever forget. Of course this was accompanied by numerous newborn photos taken of mother, daughter and new granddaughter which enhanced and completed this rapturous emotional photo of my family.

But do you know how it feels as a mother to watch your own little girl, so pale, so exhausted, crying in your arms as she tries to hold her own daughter but the pain from the surgery will not let her. To watch her try to move in the bed and get up so, so slowly to hold her baby or to go to the bathroom, moving gently and gingerly and in pain. Do you know how heart wrenching it is for you, the mother of this new mother to see her try to breastfeed but it is so painful and so hard for her to do so, knowing she is thinking I should be able to do this but I cannot….’there is something wrong with me, that I should know it all.’ Do you know how difficult it is to watch your daughters face as the midwife bathes the baby for the first time and you see the look of fear and apprehension as she herself tries to change the nappy for the first time, moving so slowly in her painful and damaged physical state? Then observing the same dark shadows as the camera clicks loudly with precious photos of the newborn and mother and you unknowingly capture that look of anxiety on her face as the baby cries.  Do you know how hard it is for you the mother, to hear her say ‘I don’t know what to do, I have no idea how to care for a baby’…to then hold your daughter and have her fall apart in your arms and cry after her husband leaves the room,… hearing her say I cannot do this, I cannot do this…..and all you can do as her mother is to hold her and let her cry.

Gone was the elation of the birth day before. Gone was the rapture and joy. Gone was the wonderment and amazement of this little creation.  Here instead were tears, exhaustion, sleep deprivation, frustration and physical pain. Here instead were confusing mixed messages from midwives, professionals and others. Here instead was insecurity and hurt. Here instead was a little person wrapped in a blanket against her new mother’s chest heaving from tiredness, anxiety uncertainty and doubt. To return again the next day  to see her dissolve in tears as the concept of feeding and lack of  breast attachment was too great;  to see her watch her husband do it all for their little girl. Ultimately to see her confidence in her own ability as a new mother evaporate as she watches helplessly her baby cry.

It was dreadful. It was emotional. It was awful. No one tells you how much it hurts you!

I just wanted to take all that pain and distress away from her. I wanted to take her hurting breasts, the tender stomach, and the leftover pain from the operation. I wanted to wrestle and kick away the fear and hurt she felt because she could not feed the baby properly and her mental emotional concept of ‘she should be able to as it was supposed to be a ‘normal maternal thing.’ I wanted to absorb her insecurity and uncertainty, I wanted to squash underfoot her anxiety and doubt. I wanted to tell her that I would make it better….I wanted to throw it all out into the harsh world and wrap her in soft cottonwool. I wanted to do it for her, but I could not do that.

As her mother it tore me apart to see this happening in front of me. Seeing my daughter in her display of despair, bought back those memories of me as a new mother. When I needed to know it was ok the baby was crying, when I needed to know that breast feeding was not easy but hard work, when I needed to know that changing a nappy and having the baby poop all over again was okay. When I needed to know that those unsettled days were quite normal and nothing you could do to pacify your little girl was working, that it was fine to cry and think I cannot do this. When those lonely hours of night and deprived sleep create an isolated dark anxious world that you feel you are not going to ever wake up from. I cried knowing I could not protect her from this unknown world.

All I could do was to hold her only as a mother can. That is what I did.

You know, there is no super mum. That whole super mum who has everything together is just a fallacy. It is all lies!  There are instead real mums. Real, authentic mums who admit that they don’t have it all together but keep on fighting. There are scared and tired mums who keep fighting. There are mums who are overwhelmed by keeping up with their babies and their little ones all day long. Mums like you and me who sometimes feel lost in a world of outward accomplishments. Your children do not see you stand in the bathroom and gather your resolve every morning. They do not see those who mother alone without much support. They do not see you counting to ten a dozen times before noon. They do not see you look at the bank account and sigh and try to figure out how to make three meals with what is left in your pantry. They do not see you walking into the principal’s office, doctor’s office, friend’s house and defending your child. They do not see bandages placed on knees, kisses on foreheads at night, pillows pushed just the right way and blankets tucked to the perfect demands. They do not see the laundry washed and folded and folded. They do not see the tears that sting your eyes as you keep persevering, of countless dinners prepared over the stove. They do not think of the times of laughter over silly things, hair brushed and pulled back into pony tails. They do not hear your prayers over little babes, your prayers over wandering teens, and the nights spent sleeping in a chair holding a sick child. They do not see the brave smile on your face when you are simply so exhausted yourself. It is being with the ones you love, and sometimes wonders how she loves them because they’re driving her batty, but still she does. She fights, gives, prays, works, and doesn’t give up even when she wants to throw in the towel. It is being the woman with big people in her care that she loves and wonders how she still loves them because they’re still driving her batty, but still she does. Motherhood is a world unto itself

I know that when my daughter was initially pregnant, I offered to be in labour room with her if she wanted me there. I would have willingly gone. I would have willingly been there holding her hand and telling her that she could do it. I could have physically supported her, I could have physically held her tight and assisted her contractions , gladly taking her pain for her but knowing  I could not…but this was all so different. That was physical pain.  But as her mother it was so hard watching her distress at the hospital with her new little one and knowing that this time I could not physically help her. All I could do was to hold her and talk with her. All I could do was to support and encourage her to know it would be fine, it would get better, and it would start to feel like normal. All I could do was to tell her that what she felt was quite common. All I could do was to hold her in my arms and stroke her hair as her world of familiarity that she knew once was being replaced with this unknown strange frightening world of a crying baby. It was even harder leaving her to just be with her baby and husband as it should be and driving home to my own world wrestling with my own emotions of love and protection for my own baby girl.

But being a mother is you giving of yourself. It is the happy giving of me. Minute, by minute, by minute, by minute until those hours add up to create a day which adds up to create a week which adds up to create a month which adds up to create years which add up to create a life. It is your beautiful life filled with ordinary enough mum moments. And then it is repeated all over again, with your own child who now has become a mother too.

I am now the mother of a brand new mother .I have learnt that motherhood definitely does not stop once your own child becomes a mother. Because these past two weeks importantly I have learnt that you cannot stop being a mum emotionally. That role and responsibility of being a mum is always there with you, walking alongside you, walking a little behind you but always walking with you because no matter where you are in the world, whether it be close to your children or on the other side of the world they still talk to you, they still call you, they still need you there.

Watching my daughter learn without an instruction  manual, how to embrace a new chapter of her adult life to be a mother was extremely hard. To watch her initial despair and place on my face the brave nonchalant calm front was so difficult. I have observed and am still observing her place one tentative step in front of the other one and achieve that heightened sense of accomplishment for the smallest things.  I also watch her fall down backwards on that same measured staircase on those inevitable ‘bad days’. But I am there when needed physically, mentally and emotionally always holding her hand. I am there through digital media, Skype sessions of just chatting and sms texts at any time of the day or night ready to respond or reply in one form or another. I am there in person to assist her and encourage her no matter how good or how bad the day is, that she is a good mum and is learning day by day. Doing exactly as I did a lifetime ago. I am also learning about knowing when it is my time to glide out silently, knowing that she is the mother now, with her own husband and life  and doing it well, doing it extremely well! Happily I am watching her learn to walk all over again, full of questions, full of doubt, full of anticipation, full of love for her own small child. You know, she is achieving so much in such a short space of time, and as much as she does not think so, she has already achieved so much.

She is now a mother.

She is a wonderful mother.

Learning about her little one each new day!

No, a mother isn’t based on external perfection. A mother is the person. She is the woman, just like me, and now just like my daughter. But I am with her. I am hiding in the shadows. I am standing in the light. I am there.

No, no one tells you at all what it is like to be the Mother.No, no one tells you what it is to be the Mother of a New Mother.

And Yes, motherhood definitely lasts a lifetime from that first tiny cry. It does not ever stop.Today. Tomorrow. Yesterday.

I would not ever want it too!.