Nancy B
Every week, she made sure to tell me that nobody liked me. My birthday was never celebrated - no gifts, no cake. This was her ongoing punishment for a moment when I was 4 years old, when I nonchalantly told a gathering of family members what had happened to me. Much later, I realised that I had unknowingly been sharing the sexual abuse I suffered from a relative. My mother’s shame was immense. She wasn’t ashamed of what had been done to me; she was ashamed that I had spoken about it. She beat me so severely that I became mute for 2 years. A scandal and a silent child stained the image of a "perfect family." I ruined her life.
My grandmother agreed with my mother. After all, this was just family history repeating. She had done the same to my mother, and she had experienced the same herself.
Yet, every year at school, our teachers forced us to make Mother’s Day gifts reading, “I love you, Mum.” The gift was presented as part of a little school performance to celebrate our mothers publicly. On Mother's Day Sunday, my grandparents would visit, and the forced celebration would continue. It always began at church in the morning, where the priest would declare what a wonderful family we were, with my grandparents beaming with pride in the front row.
Deep down, I knew I would break the cycle.
I wanted to have children and love them fiercely, exactly as they are.
I wanted children who wouldn’t feel conflicted or broken on Mother’s Day.
I wanted to raise children who would never experience guilt, shame, neglect, or abuse from their mother.
Looking back, I realise I did break the generational cycle. Just differently.
I do not have children. I am childless by circumstance.
It took me too long to heal, and too long to build a life from absolutely nothing with zero support. I worked tirelessly, hoping to become a mother in my late thirties. Instead, divorce and cancer cancelled those hopes. Doctors say it is a common outcome when someone endures prolonged, extreme stress. They also told me I was lucky that the operation went better than expected.
Mother’s Day is a day when I think of the children who grew up unloved. I think of everyone who remains childless because they were never given the chance to right the wrongs of their past. Whether we refer to ourselves as childless or childfree, we break the generational cycle - whether by circumstance or by choice.
My grandmother didn’t like herself, and she hated my mother.
My mother didn’t like herself, and she hated me.
I do not hate myself, and the hate stops with me.
