I was a clueless, little squirt of a human when I became a mother at 22 years old. I was in labor for hours and hours, as I had quite a difficult time pushing my daughter out. Needless to say, I was exhausted when I first laid eyes on her. But even in my wasted state, there was this overwhelming need to protect her, to put my arms around her. Was this mother’s instinct? I wouldn’t know, it was my first time to be one.
A lot has been said about how we learn so much from our mothers, how a mother stands as the child’s first teacher. But we don’t get to hear a lot about how mothers learn from their children, how a child can teach so much to his mom.
We didn’t have internet back then. (Yes, I am that old!) I couldn’t just Google “how to treat a fever” or “what to do with sore nipples.” I had to learn everything on my own. The nerd that I am, I read books, lots of them. I pored over Dr. Spock’s baby care book, which became like a bible to me. It was he who encouraged me to trust my instincts, to be affectionate and warm. Having been raised by boomer parents, this was somewhat of a deviation for me. When I started having boys one after another, I picked up Steve Biddulph’s Raising Boys. My siblings were all females, so raising boys was a challenge twice over.
But all my readings paled in comparison to the actual experience of parenting. I learned more from my childrethen than from any book, class, or workshop. The lessons I learned could be distilled in this one prayer:
“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
Grace in Acceptance
Funny story: When my children were grade-schoolers, they would often create quite a mess. I’d get home from work, and toys, books, notebooks, what-have-you would be scattered all over the place. Constant reminders were met with reasons totally unacceptable to my standards. Our help couldn’t keep up as there were four of them. So every night, before I went to bed, I would clean up. I had this idea of what a home should look like—and it didn’t look like mine! This went on for months until finally, I realized: “Why do I want everything clean and precise? Who am I doing it for? What would happen if I just let things be?”
The answer, of course, is that nothing happened. Nobody got hurt out of a notebook misplaced under the bed or a toy on top of the refrigerator.
I had expectations that didn’t match reality, so I had to accept and let go. This philosophy I applied not only to clutter, but also to development milestones, personality quirks, and everyday inconveniences. I stirred clear of moms who made contests out of milestones, bragging about how early their children accomplished this-or-that. I learned to respect the quiet rhythm of each child, avoiding useless comparisons. I learned to be patient. Some things cannot be done in a hurry, and the faster you try to finish, the more blunders you are bound to create.
Courage in Action
There are things that I cannot change in myself: my past, my physiology, my personality. There are things that I cannot change in my children: their natural talents, their individuality, and their physicality. While I couldn’t change the world my children were born into, I could affect the environment they were growing up in.
When you have children, you are less likely to be brave. The last time I remember being brave was when I faced tanks with roses and rosaries. But I was a teenager then; I thought I was invincible.
I was a flawed individual in a dysfunctional relationship, and the only thing that kept me going was my children. It would have been easier to accept things, not to make waves, but I knew I had to shake things up.
To be frank, the idea of single parenthood scared the life out of me. When you have children, you are less likely to be brave. The last time I remember being brave was when I faced tanks with roses and rosaries. But I was a teenager then; I thought I was invincible.
When you become a mother, you become a plus one, or in my case, a plus four, for life. Your every action has to go through a kid’s filter of sorts: What does this mean for them? How would this affect them?
My children were looking towards me, and in their eyes, I did not like what I was seeing.
I couldn’t stand the thought of the bad example I was setting for them. And so, encouraged to be brave to protect their innocence, I found the courage to dive into single parenthood—and have not looked back since.
Wisdom in Empathy
My children are all grown up now, living their own lives. But I am happy to say that I continue to learn from them. I said earlier that being a plus four is for life—and it is!
A few years back, one of my sons told me that he was moving out. I welcomed his plans with excitement. I got married young and had a child in short order, so I thought, “How exhilarating must it be to be single and to live alone?” Some people didn’t think similarly and made their objections known. They don’t matter. I know my child. I know his heart. His soul longed to fly.
As my children bloomed, I blossomed right beside them. We share each other’s joys and struggles.
As we grow, we help heal each other from old wounds. I express remorse over not having done some things sooner; I didn’t know any better. They tell me it’s never too late and not to be hard on myself. Having asked for forgiveness, I am now learning to forgive myself.
So the next time you see your mother, be gentle: Be gentle not because she’s noble or graceful; be gentle because she’s flawed, human, and still learning to be better at life, just like you.
Jing Lejano is a single mother of four and grandmother of one. She’s a former magazine editor and, in her words, forever the optimist.
