Becoming a Mum without your Mum

My little girl arrived via emergency Caesarean section on May 4th 2011 and I named her Joan. We became the talk of our ward as I had had a rare condition called an abruption, which in the words of one midwife, “put everyone on their toes”.

 

A few days later another nice midwife, whose name I wish I remembered, walked me through that all-daunting task of giving your baby their first bath. She asked what Joan’s name was and when I told her, she simply said: “She was looking out for you.”

 

I took that away with me for a few hours and then realised what she had meant: she knew I had named Joan after my mother and she believed my mother was our guardian angel the day Joan arrived.

 

Maybe the midwife was right, maybe my mother Joan, who passed away in 1994, came to our rescue that day. She somehow ensured that I was exactly where I needed to be when a medical emergency arose – in the hospital for a routine appointment. Or maybe we were just extremely lucky.

 

Either way, each day I think of how the two Joans will never meet and I regularly notice features and characteristics that seem to have been handed down from my mother to my daugher: an amazing sense of humour, determination and kindness, to mention a few.

 

I think losing my mother when I was so young caused me to hesitate over becoming one myself. Most new mothers will tell you how absolutely essential it is to have the love, guidance and support of their own mums when a baby arrives. They offer something different from what partners can provide.

 

I definietly had moments in the hospital, watching other women with their mums, that made me feel lonely. On some level, it was like experiencing that loss all over again. One mother, after hearing our story, knit Joan two tiny cardigans, one white and one yellow. I will never forget her kindness and I kept them both.

 

Then there is getting that little bundle home and thinking what next? Her first cough,  first rash, her dreaded first fever and not being able to call that one person for advice and reassurance. (I would like to note here that my husband is a calm and amazing father who balances out my panic!)

 

And of course, the happy moments like when they make that first sound you imagine is a word, have their first solid food or take their first steps and again you’re not able to share it with your mum. I missed Joan Senior at Little Joan’s first Christmas, her first birthday, her first Easter Egg hunt, her first time dressing up at Halloween and all significant events since.

 

But I talk to her about her grandmother each night before bed. I tell her stories about when I was little and Grandma Joan would take us to the beach, let us stay up late to watch Dallas and made rocky road squares so sweet I’m surprised we never got cavities.

 

There are some positives that have come from my situation. Memories of my mother come flooding back at the most unexpected moments, like when I’m having a bath with my daugher or figthing with her to do something. I then put myself directly into Mum’s shoes and can remember more than ever before who she was. I also think I became a confident mum very quickly as I had to do things my way.

 

So whether or not I was just extremely lucky in the hospital that day or my mother was looking out for us, I look forward to watching Little Joan grow knowing that she will have features (dimple in her chin) and characteristics just like her grandmother even though she never met her. 

 

Alison Curtis is a mum-of-one and presenter on Today FM. Find out more about Alison here.