A Real Mother

We just celebrated Mother’s Day here in the US. Some families spent all day at cookouts or luncheons. Moms received homemade cards and flowers and many will keep a treasure trove of such gifts for many years.

And it started me thinking again, as I’ve done many times before, on what it means for me to be a Mother. More specifically, what does it mean for me to be a Mother and a Pagan? (Yes, I actually do think about these things.)

I came late to Motherhood. I’d had miscarriages earlier in life and had been told for many years that it didn’t look like it was going to be possible for me to have a child. I had come to terms with not being a Mom and was content.

When I started dating my husband at 39, his daughter was five. I was very happy to have a daughter and love her dearly. I have always told her I was the luckiest Mom in the world because not many Moms get to meet their daughter and fall in love with her before becoming a Mom. Then on my 41^st birthday, I found out I was pregnant.

I had no idea what to do. Advice was more than abundant and, as a relatively new Pagan at the time, I looked to other Pagan moms for examples. What I saw scared the daylights out of me.

Pagan Moms were supposed to be Earth Mothers. They breast fed their babies for more than a year, they made their own baby food when their children began eating solids, they never used disposable diapers, they co-slept, and only went to work if they had to, and then with great anguish and trepidation, calling care takers frequently to check in on their baby. And they never, ever did things for themselves, sacrificing every minute of quiet time or personal enjoyment for the sake of their children.

After my son was born, I struggled with so many of these things. I couldn’t breast feed and had to deal with well meaning mothers telling me how sorry they were for me and self-righteous mothers telling me that I was poisoning my baby. I certainly wasn’t sorry for myself and never once accepted that formula was poison. I used disposable diapers because I simply couldn’t afford a cloth diaper service and no desire to do so anyway. He slept in his own crib in his own room, and I cherished every moment of sleep on the weekends when it was my husband’s turn to get up with him. I went back to work with an easy mind, knowing the dear friend who watched my son was lovingly caring for him and never once called to see how he was doing (I knew she’d call if there was a problem).  I can’t even make food from scratch for myself, better yet for a baby! And I refused to give up my personal enjoyments that allowed me to have a few moments of quiet time to myself.

What a horrible Mom I was to my baby!

With my stepdaughter, who is truly the daughter of my heart and I always introduce her as my daughter, I’ve always encouraged her to read. Once she learned, she loved it! But I will confess to encouraging it because I have never enjoyed reading book after book out loud. We did one year of Brownies and I even tried being a Co-Leader. Not having very many “crafty” skills, it was probably not the best idea in the world for me to do so. We didn’t play dress up or tea party and she loved soccer but hated that we made her practice and wouldn’t let her drop out when it got hard.

What a mean, old Mom I am to her!

We sang songs at home, everything from “Oliver,” to Ren Faire songs, Pagan songs to Metallica. My daughter even created her own altar in her room and we did our Pagan “Night, Night” prayer. Both kids attended rituals with me when it was feasible, but there were times when it was honestly just easier for me to focus if the little one wasn’t there running around underfoot and I wasn’t having to keep an eye on the older one to make sure she wasn’t playing with her cingulum.

And I was never “Mommy.” It just grated on my nerves to hear myself called that. I’ve always been “Mama” or “Mom.” “Mommy” just never fit.

My emotions were in turmoil. What was wrong with me? How could I be such a horrible Mother? How in the world could I call myself Pagan and not be the Earth Mother/constant nurturer I was supposed to be?

Then I got a book. Yeah, I know, Pagans aren’t supposed to be people who are swayed by one book (thus, we don’t have one Holy Scripture to act as our sole moral guide). But this book really changed the way I look at myself as a Mother.

The book was “Goddesses in Every Woman” by Jean Shinoda Bolen, a Jungian Analyst and author who focuses on women’s issues. It’s not a Pagan book per se. Instead, it’s a wonderful study by Dr. Bolen on the archetypes of womanhood.

What is an archetype? Very simply put, Carl Jung discovered that, no matter the culture or time, there were some basic, though differing, patterns of thought and behavior that seemed to be prevalent. There are family archetypes of father, mother, child. Story archetypes of the hero, the maiden, the trickster.

In “Goddesses in Every Woman,” Dr. Bolen takes Jung’s theory of archetypes and uses seven Greek Goddesses to portray standard archetypes of women. Artemis – independent, feminine spirit; Athena – lover of logic and knowledge; Hestia – the hearth keeper and cultivator of spirituality; Hera – eternally devoted to her partner, no matter what; Demeter – the consummate Earth Mother; Persephone – seemingly eternally youthful and instinctual; and Aphrodite – inspiration of poetry and love, though not defined by relationships.

What I learned from reading this book was that we women have all these traits within us. Some may be more pronounced than others. I am Artemis and Athena; I value education and independence. I am definitely not Demeter and, you know what? I don’t have to be.

I can, and have done so, cultivate the Demeter in me and now have a tool to do so. I’m more willing to sit and read books out loud to my son or share books with my daughter. In fact, she’s challenged me to a “book off” – who can read the most books. I find more things the kids and I can do together, including more ritual. But I don’t have to feel like I’m supposed to be ruled by her.

As a Pagan, reading this book had more than just a psychological effect. It affected me spiritually as well. I look to these Goddesses not just as ancient myths who happen to provide great insight into the mind of women today. I look to them as incarnations of The Goddess and can focus my own practice of Wicca to their honor and implore them for guidance.

Do I think it’s helped? I hope so. At the very least it’s made me more aware of my own strengths. And it’s taught me not to fear being judged because I’m not the “perfect” mother.

All too often we get ourselves caught in this trap of thinking that being the Earth Mother is who ALL mothers are supposed to be. And Pagan moms are no different. If anything, that Earth Mother concept is even more strongly cultivated in Paganism. And women, like me, who don’t meet those standards feel guilty and confused.

We shouldn’t. As Mothers, our first duty is to love our children, care for them to the best of our abilities, and teach them to do the same for others. It doesn’t do ourselves any good to become slaves to our children or families in order to make ourselves feel less guilty. And I think it will be a detriment to our children in the long run when they realize that the entire world is not going to cater to their whims.

Accept your own strengths, cultivate ways to improve where you will, and don’t let anyone tell you you’re not what a Mother, or Father, or Daughter, or Son, should be.

After all, as Pagans, we’re all about balance, right?

And even though Mother’s Day is over, never forget that all Moms, biological, foster, “adopted,” or otherwise, have some Demeter in them and need to hear from their Persephones, and not just on Mother’s Day.

Whomever she may be to you, call your Mother.