Since getting pregnant with my son, over 15 years ago, I’ve danced with this idea of bringing light to the shaming of mothers. From pregnancy into motherhood, I was assaulted with constant unsolicited comments and “advice” from people, often feeling like no matter what decisions I made someone was there to shame me…thus, the title “The Shaming of Mothers”.
Post #1
So, this will be the first in a series of blog posts where I share my personal experiences of being shamed as a mother, both at my own hands and those of others.
My Story
The very first time I felt “shamed” was early in my pregnancy. My story is a little atypical and requires a bit of context, so please indulge me while I set the scene:
I I didn’t marry until I was 35. In the two years we were married (after having been together for 7), I endured 3 miscarriages, each one farther along and more painful. This post isn’t about those miscarriages (I’ve yet to write about them or move through the healing), but they are important to the context of my journey to become a mom.
After my third miscarriage, my now ex-husband told me he didn’t want to have children, which was a huge blow, especially since I was 37 and officially in the range of having a “geriatric pregnancy”! Did I mention this blog series is on the shaming of mothers?!? Once I did get pregnant with my son, I didn’t even consider this label as shaming, because I was so, so, so elated to be pregnant, but, in hindsight, this absolutely is shaming.
Pregnant Out of Wedlock
I didn’t have time to start over with someone new! The time it would take to meet someone, get to know them, develop a long-term sustaining relationship, and get pregnant did not seem feasible at my age! To make matters worse, my ex-husband got someone we both knew pregnant before our divorce was even finalized!
All this to explain that my first experience of feeling shame as a mother was getting pregnant out of wedlock! No, I didn’t have my ex-husband’s child! Yes, I did get pregnant by someone who didn’t want to raise a child with me, so I carried a lot of shame (both self-inflicted and from others) anytime I was asked about my baby’s dad. I almost felt like I had to make excuses for having a child on my own.
Layers of Shame
What made this shaming so acute was the fact that, at the time, I was a 5th grade teacher in a school that served at-risk students. I went from being Ms. Mattson (single) to Mrs. Martinez (married) back to Ms. Mattson (divorced), and then pregnant. I felt that I was being a poor role model for my students, and I worried what my students’ parents would think of me.
I even went so far as to say to my students, when I announced my pregnancy, that I was having a baby on my own, but that I had gone to school, earned multiple higher education degrees (I have my doctorate in education), and had a career that would allow me to provide for myself and my unborn baby.
I also carried familial shame because both my sisters (one older and one younger) were married with two kids each. They had the “traditional” families that I had envisioned for myself. Even though no one in my family came out and said I should be ashamed, I felt ashamed, nonetheless. Fun fact, this shame continues to this day, because I am still the only person in my family without a significant other to help me raise my son or pay my bills or run the house.
We can’t forget the societal shame in being a single mom! To this day, I still feel a shadow of shame when someone asks about my son’s father. Raising him as a baby and a toddler, I felt that I could shield him a little more from the societal norm that a healthy, traditional family has two parents, but as he grew closer to school age, I started to worry about how he would see himself and our little family.
“I don’t have a dad”
The first time it came up was when he was four, and we were at the park. He quickly made a little friend who, after playing together for a few minutes, asked B where his dad was. My heart skipped a beat, as I waited to hear my son’s answer, which was, “I don’t have a dad!”
On the drive home from the park, I asked my son about his interaction. He didn’t seem fazed by saying he didn’t have a day, but I did share with him that he does, indeed, have a dad, we just don’t see him. I explained that the only way his dad could talk to him was through me, but that his dad got upset with mama and stopped talking to me. It was the best I could do to explain a dad who abandoned his child.
From that day on, I made sure my son knew he could talk about his dad or ask me any questions about him. I also sought out books that showed the diversity in families, including single-parent families, families with extended family (grandmas and grandpas living in the home), and foster and adoptive families. One of our favorite book series, The Notebook of Doom by Troy Cummings, had a single dad and a son at the center of each story.
Writing Our Own Story
While I still carry some shame about having brought a child into a broken family before he was even born, I also celebrate the life I’ve built for us! It hasn’t always been easy, I struggle a lot financially (I never went after his dad for child support, which is a story on its own), but I always, always tell me son, “Even the hardest day with you is exponentially better than any day I had before you”, and I mean that in a way that I’ve never meant anything else.