One Way to Mother (or NOT Mother) Our Adult Children

Season 4 Episode 4 of “The Queen” spoke to my mothering heart as they explored Queen Elizabeth’s relationship with her four children.

I text, "I know I'm just your mom, but I love this memory of you." I include the video snippet of him performing in his high school Madrigal Dinner five years ago. I think he looks darling in his Renaissance costume with his blonde hair peeking out from under his hat. It fills me with pride. But I also check my motives carefully when choosing to reach out to him. The line between reminding my adult children that I still delight in them and wanting them to take care of me emotionally is thin.

The hardest part about being a parent of adult children is to accept that they are not responsible for filling my emotional needs and then live like it's true.

Don't get me wrong. I have wrestled through many therapy sessions to come to this understanding. I default so easily to my mothering identity. But that can get weird. I mean, when is that supposed to end? One of my sons is turning 25 this month and has a fiance. Being wrapped up in his emotional life would be SO inappropriate. I can get hurt by them now, too. "Don't they know? Can't they see?" I might cry. But that, again, is me expecting them to take care of me emotionally. "It's not their job," my therapist responds. She has to remind me over and over again. Thankfully, I know she's right, and I pay attention to what (and why!) I communicate.

The irony is, I didn't know how to relax into the intimacy that can exist between a mother and infant. I was too wrapped up in doing everything right. I kept myself on such a tight leash in my 20s as I believed my god required it, and that spilled over into my full-time parenting in countless ways. Letting my child sleep with me was a no-no. I didn't trust myself to give my firstborn a bath, so I gave the responsibility over to his dad. My emotional bandwidth was narrow, and I withheld my natural nurture often without realizing it. My emotional exhaustion was so pronounced after my second was born, I left for nine days once before he was two. I felt so desperate for rest, I holed up in a hotel alone. It was better with the third because I'd learned a few things, but she had to struggle to keep up while I continued to push our family forward in my ideals, expressed in religious commitment and homeschooling. I missed so many of the moments I now long for just because I was trying so hard to do it all.

But there is no doubt becoming a mother cracked my heart open and let me feel deeply in ways I never had before. They needed and wanted me with pure abandon. I relished snuggles and greetings, making them laugh, and opening the world to them through books and hikes in the woods. All my longings and loneliness were met with their delight in the world I was creating for them. No romantic relationship or public success can replace the way my children made me feel.

I also bemoan to my therapist, "But only the whites believe in giving adult children lots of space! If I was the matriarch in another culture, like Italy or, or…have you SEEN "My Big Fat Greek Wedding??" But I am white. I did raise my children to become the best of themselves. I don't want to be a clinging mother in my heart of hearts, but an empowered woman excited about the second half of her life. I want them, of course, to come "home" for holidays and to celebrate them. I will relish being involved in my grandchildren's lives, if that becomes part of my story. Most of all, I want my adult children to want to be a Wells and thankful for our family. But in the meantime, I am learning to stand on my own emotional two feet and that needs to never end.

I have a theory. I believe that a lot of Gen X found emotional fulfillment in becoming parents. Our parent's generation didn't go to therapy, talk about triggers or mental health, or take child development classes. We wanted to do it better! Be much more emotionally nurturing. But our children ended up healing us. And as they come of age, it's hard to let that go.

But it's not their job to emotionally take care of us, is it?