But all studies do not matter, the most important thing is that there are times when I hate my motherhood, and there are times when I even hate myself, just like any living being. There are times when I feel like I love my motherhood, I even adore it. I do not care about the number of studies, articles and texts that deal with this, in the sense that I do not wait for them to confirm my feelings. Just like I do not care about those texts, publications, proverbs and quotes that make the mother a superhero, a fiery, drumming, ringing. There are heroic positions that mothers achieve, some or many of them perhaps. There are, of course, destructive positions. And the mother herself may be in her influence, sometimes a hero and at others a devil, knowing that evil is not necessarily what motivates her in her dementia, but rather pent-up feelings that many mothers apparently still cannot reveal . There are also depressions and hormones that manipulate us right and left, up and down, during and after pregnancy, and there are many circumstances that enter into the comparison, the most important of which is the mother’s relationship with herself and the child she once was, and her relationship with her husband.
Moreover, any generalization that demonizes the mother, or necessarily glorifies her as a hero, is not possible, unlike the generalization that all children are sometimes annoying. The case is very simple, for creation made for children, for example a screaming sound that breaks the ears, that forces the listener to move because he loses the ability to carry, and it is a defense mechanism by which a child is born be, whether he wants it or not. This mechanism seems to be effective, every time, so the child will stick to it for years and years of constant vocal disturbance. Children defend themselves by screaming, so they are all annoying, except for the dumb children who overload their parents with a different kind of anxiety.
Every day that night comes, I hold my two kids and tell them how much I love them. Every night I change into a princess without crystal shoes, lying with two little ones in bed, caressing their soft skin and drowning in a wave of love. The night brings more love because it allows me to hear my inner voice. A ceasefire of the raging day-to-day battles: of their quarrels, their cries, their eternal calls to me, my battles with myself, my surroundings, my people, etc. Because mothers do not live outside of life, nor are we strengthened within walls that burn negative feelings and only love penetrates them. The mother’s castle is overwhelmed with pain as her cannons turn against her and hit her before they hit others. The greatest pain is for those who do not love themselves enough, knowing that I do not know what is “enough” of self-love.
As if I love myself more at night … As if my mother loved me at night … But associating love with a specific time of day is not an exact matter on my part.
So, there has been writing all over the world about motherhood and its aversion. Perhaps it was the academic study “Regretting Motherhood” conducted in 2015 by sociologist Orna Donath that caused the confessions of thousands, if not millions, of women to regret having regrets about having children. Let’s at least say that it was the spark of public recognition in the circles of academic and commercial publishing, the press and the media, because such a feeling could not be stifled through these years without at least one woman daring to publish it. Since the publication of this study, which later turned into a book of the same title, studies, articles, texts and confessions, written and published in traditional and electronic media, have been facilitated by social media, reaching the poles of the world .
Although these writings are necessary, especially in light of the widespread domination, for centuries, of writings that sanctify motherhood at the expense of the mother, knowing that the number of anti-motherhood writings does not yet exceed or be equal to the number of those anti- motherhood -mothership, the observer and the reader are now in front Two camps attract all the attention, the camp of reverence for motherhood and the camp of hating motherhood. Or sacrifice or guilt. Two applied evils, feminine and masculine, the third of which is inevitably regrettable. As for the regret, it is “about motherhood and not about the children themselves”, in an explanation that I do not think any child on the planet understands, because children, although sometimes annoying, are also of high intelligence that sometimes overwhelms. those of adults.
“My problem is that I hate everything. I hate that I give my life to make her life better. I hate that she does not see what I do for her … I hate the effect of having children,” said a mom says in a Facebook group that attracts a good number of “repentant” mothers from around the world. in my mental health. “Another mom comments on the same post and asks,” Who likes being a mom (or dad)? All we do is serve them. Whoever wants children should be a natural shepherd, enjoy cooking and cleaning. That’s it. And I like it. “”.
No one has the right to demand that a mother suppress her opinions and feelings, because liberation from the weight of these feelings takes place only through speech. This talk becomes more effective in mitigating the severity of negative feelings and their impact, such as hate, on what the mother has expressed, for example on Facebook, by repeating the response of “I hate .. I hate .. I hate” , by exchanging it with a person who is able to understand its dimensions (knowing that knowing that one is not alone is not a comforting feeling, but it does not come with any rewarding solutions.Hate is a negative feeling when a person persists, regardless of whether he is a mother, father or even a neighbor, and regardless of the topic of this hate.And the solution, of course, is not that the mother with nurturing genes are not born, nor is she a fan of cleaning and cooking to play her real role.There is a big difference between the role of the mother in the lives of her children, and these issues that are closely related to motherhood only in the obsolete Arabic reading or reading books, and it appears in some social media circles, such as the global group.
How many mothers have already fallen under the weight of a society (which is also represented in the man) that imposes (and she accepts) superficially defined roles on her, without going into the depths of what the child and his mother need has. These roles are mainly based on what suits the man, in terms of his ability to cover the cost of hiring someone to help with these tasks so that the mother can dedicate herself to herself, her work and her children without feeling that she “gives her life to make her daughter’s life better.” For she is simply not expected to have such a gift, and every mother should be aware of this to free her daughter or son and free them from the nonsense of a similar sacrifice that will bring no benefit to these children. not.
I am not a proponent of motherhood or childbirth, nor am I a hater of the experience, nor one of those who regret it. I have already committed the sin of pessimism, having on several occasions considered its existence as a source of suffering that I can bring to my two children once I have brought them to life. The possibilities are endless, and pain (which I still work on) is an integral part of life, as well as sadness, joy, death, anger and love … There is one thing I defend, perhaps to the point of ferocity , and it is the right of every woman to talk about her feelings as She, and her right to satisfactory and adequate answers that help her understand what is in her mind and reconcile with herself, away from cooking and cleansing , and also far from sacrifice. , hatred, guilt and regret as a way of life. Let one of us regret if she will, and also cry out for it if she will, and let her voice reach the ridges of the whole earth, to also dare to herself, her present, her past and the pain she has experienced confront. , and to forgive the child she was one day and heal her wounds, she and the child she gave birth to Here is a post.
Between the camp of hating motherhood on the one hand, and the camp of reverence for it on the other, I just have to ask as a joke: Where are the mothers who are most in love with their motherhood at night?