She lost it again. She was in her daughter’s face, having a
toddler-like temper tantrum. Except that she was thirty and a mother and should
be able to control herself. And should be able to control her daughter’s
behavior, at least a little bit. This was all she had left after about three
hours of reasoning, begging, and sternly, but unpersuasively saying “Calm down.
Now.” Three hours of threatening, pleading, and even hitting her. Twice.
The little girl was angry. Or scared. Or both.
“You’re not my mother. You stole me from my real parents.
Admit the truth!”
Poor little Rapunzel. Seeing mother Gothel for who she is.
At last.
***
Later, at night, her dead mother pays her a visit.
“You know,” she says, “You thought your father was sterile
and we used a sperm donor to make you.”
“We did have a donor. We used donor eggs. I’m not your real
mother.”
She’s smirking cruelly as she says that.
***
I don’t remember that cruel smirk from when she was alive.
I do realize this now makes three generations of motherless
daughters. The sins of the mothers.
The sins of the mothers. That line gave me chills.
ReplyDelete(hug)
Hugs right back, upsi.
DeleteIt's hard to share my own dark parenting moments here, but I have to. No. I'm not radically different from my parents. I'm trying to change the paradigm and break the cycle, but it's certainly not a black-and-white thing where they were evil and I am good. It's so damn hard to be a parent when you've never really had parents.
I wish people didn't view it as their 'right' to reproduce. If we could take the prestige out of motherhood, maybe less of the monsters would choose to be pregnant? I hope so.
ReplyDeleteSilly pipe dream, I know. But an ACoN can dream, right? ;-)
I'm one of the monsters who reproduced - in my defense, I thought at the time I came from a perfect, loving family and would make a decent mother. Also, I didn't see it as a right, but as an obligation.
DeleteSometimes I have wonderful moments of love and joy with my kids. Sometimes I despair because I feel there's something fundamental lacking in me, making it impossible to be a really real mother.