Generations of Motherhood
When Bump & Baby Club Writer, Lottie, became a mother she began to reevaluate her childhood and upbringing, and to fully understand and appreciate what her own mother, Emma, did for her. Here, both women describe their connection and how it’s evolved with the arrival of baby Bonnie…
Photos: Sam Sherring
Words: Lottie LewisA few nights before Midsummer’s Eve I went to a Paolo Nutini gig at the Eden Project with my mum and sisters. The music was amazing and the location was stunning, with the music floating away into the open air as the sun set on one of the longest days of the year. Unfortunately, I’d been struck down with the beginning of a toddler bug, probably picked up at playgroup with my 1 year old daughter, and I was feeling a bit fragile. Walking back up the winding path at the end of the night, my sisters striding on ahead, my mum took my hand in sympathy. As we walked, hand in hand, mum looked down at our palms touching and fingers folded over one another’s. Looking back up she said to me:
“Holding your hand right now reminds me of when I first introduced you to your new baby sister. You came to the hospital to meet her, and I took your hand in mine. In that moment I couldn’t believe how big your hand felt all of a sudden, and I realised you weren’t a baby any more.”
Lottie, Bonnie and Emma
I am the eldest of three girls, which I love. There is an 18 month age gap between me and my middle sister, Monica, and just under four years between Bryony and I. Now that I have Bonnie, a daughter of my own (who seemed to slot straight into our girl gang like another sister), I feel like I finally appreciate what my own mum did for us. Throughout my 30 years I never once considered the sacrifice or understood the responsibility my mum felt, whilst I constantly pushed the limits. I wasn’t an easy child from the beginning, constantly fighting my way out of my car seat and highchair, refusing to wear shoes, taking my sisters off on ‘adventures’ that left my mum scared witless looking for us. As I got older I just became worse, developing a serious attitude, breaking school rules, smoking, drinking, partying. Finishing education I packed my rucksack and went around the world, sometimes with friends, mostly travelling alone, hardly contacting my parents and choosing to hitchhike and sofa surf. Years later, after returning home and calming down, my sister’s told me how stressed and anxious I’d made our mum.
When Bonnie was born I experienced a strange feeling of loss. Whilst I was over the moon to have a baby and start a family, I was in mourning for my old life. I missed travelling, surfing and sleeping in the boot of my car. My life completely changed and it took a while to get used to it. Whilst I know my mum wanted a family and was eager to be a stay at home mum, surrounded by babies and animals on a farm in Cornwall, the emotions I went through when bringing Bonnie into the world made me reevaluate how much mothers give up. We say goodbye to life as we know it, and welcome in a whole new season. We release our freedom and flightiness. Now I can appreciate what our mum did for us. Three daughters in the space of four years must have meant life as she knew it was turned upside-down. Now knowing the level of care, commitment and time a child needs, I can finally understand what our mum went through to raise us into the independent women that we are.
It is impossible to describe the emotions you go through when you become a mother to someone who doesn’t have children. The uncontrollable miracle of pregnancy, the unexplainable love, the primal protective instinct, the exhaustion of newborn nights, the healing process. I look up to the mother figures in my life; my own mum, my mother-in-law, cousins and friends who had children years before me. It’s true when they say, “it takes a village”, and I feel intensely grateful to have my mum, family and friends around me for support.
Seeing both my mum and dad become grandparents has been incredible. My mum came to the hospital within hours of Bonnie being born, and was the first person to meet her aside from Charlie, my partner. Deep in those colic-stricken days of crying and despair, I would drive over to my parents farm where I grew up, exhausted and miserable. Being the baby whisperer that she was, mum would take Bonnie in her arms and walk around the garden, relinquishing me of responsibility and constant noise. Those short breaks during the newborn fog were priceless.
Now a walking, babbling, sleepless ball of energy and fun, Bonnie bowls through the front door of her grandparents’ house, demanding snacks and cuddles and chasing the animals. My parents and sisters have been invaluably helpful in allowing me to work, or simply have some time off, knowing Bonnie is cared for by people who love her as much as I do.
Looking back on my childhood spent outside, the freedom I was allowed into my teen years and the trust my mum had within me to return from the big wide world, it has made me realise that I want to offer my own daughter the same thing. I love animals, the ocean, the great outdoors and my family immeasurably, and this is no doubt due to my mum and the way she raised my sisters and I. If I can offer Bonnie the same level of selfless love and protection, whilst allowing her to discover the world for herself in the way that my mum allowed us to, I know I’ll be raising a happy, healthy and adored child.
A note from Emma, my mum and Bonnie’s nanna
When we started a family I felt physically prepared and mentally ready for children. What wasn’t I prepared for? The overwhelming physical ache of love when each of my daughters were born. No one had told me.
What wasn’t I prepared for when Bonnie was born? That same gasping, ache of love. I was shocked that I could have that feeling again in my heart. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to protect her, she is part of me.
I feel so incredibly lucky to be a grandmother. My daughters never experienced this, as both their maternal and paternal grandmothers died young, before my girls were born. When Lottie was born I inwardly mourned the loss of my mother again, the sadness and regret of not having her there for support. The regret of not having asked enough questions, of not being able to ask advice, to ask what was I like at that age, to have someone reassuring me that it would be alright, that I was doing just fine as a mother even though it didn’t always feel like it.
I am so fortunate to be able to watch, in awe, my daughter navigate motherhood, and witness the unbreakable bond between her and Bonnie. To see the interaction with my other daughters, how they support and love Lottie and Bonnie. I feel so proud of them all; independent, funny, kind, loving, strong young women, all helping to nurture the next generation.
I am so grateful that I have time to share with my granddaughter, a beautiful little girl that will seek me out, take my hand in hers and lead the way to show me her world of wonder.
When Lottie looks back and reflects on the freedom she had to find her own way, to rise to challenges and make mistakes whilst always knowing she could come home and would be safe, I realise I also had this. I remember times when I must have tested my parents, as my sisters will remind me! I am sure we all question our abilities as a parent and have to have faith in ourselves that we are getting it right. To have my daughters still happy to spend time with me, dance with me, laugh and cry with me - what more could I wish for apart from more time?
