The connection with the mother is the most significant in our life. But relationships with her can be very difficult. 64-year-old Inessa tells how her communication with her daughter has changed over the years and what they have come to after years of resentment and alienation.
I was 22 when my first son was born. I studied at the institute in the evening department, so I only took parental leave at work and continued to study in the evenings. My husband sat with Kolya, sometimes my mother came to help.
A year later, a daughter was born. I fed my son and did not think that I would become pregnant. When I found out, it was already too late to have an abortion, and I would not have dared, because we always wanted several children. But it immediately became harder, starting with pregnancy – I didn’t have time to recover from the first one, and it’s difficult with a little one. Like it or not, you have to take it in your arms, but where with such a belly?
The birth, however, went well. But I had to work on my diploma. I had to ask my mother to help us more, and we did not have a particularly good relationship with her. My mother-in-law did not like my husband, besides, it always seemed to her that “something was wrong” in our house. As soon as I stopped feeding (and this happened early, my daughter was three months old), my mother began to take her to her. And for me it was a great help.
I got an excellent defense, but went to work when Kolya was already five years old, sent him to a kindergarten. But she didn’t give away T-shirt, she was still small, and her mother took her for a day to her place. And then for the whole week – why drag the child back and forth? On Fridays, when I came to my mother for my daughter, she threw real tantrums: “I want to stay!” I felt terrible: to take away – I torture the child, not to take it – I put too much on the mother.
Then our youngest son was born, they named him Dima. Kolya was already in the second grade, Maya went to the first, I was sitting at home again, and everything seemed to be calmer. Our Dima had problems with hearing, we went to the doctors a lot, then we picked up a hearing aid for him, we had to deal with him.
And it’s amazing: Kolya, although a boy, helped me, but Maya did not. And in addition, she teased her younger brother, sometimes brought her to tears. And it seemed to me that she does it on purpose, she likes that she can do it.
I tried to explain that it was impossible, sometimes I broke down and yelled at her. But it didn’t help
When Maya went to her grandmother, the house became quieter and calmer. And I felt like a moral monster because I treat my daughter like that. But I had no idea what hell would be in adolescence.
Maya did not miss the opportunity to say that I was old, dressing out of fashion. At our house, everything suddenly became wrong for her: the chairs were uncomfortable, the towels were hard, the springs on the bed creaked, she couldn’t sleep. Everything was not for her. I suspect that this was not without the influence of my mother, Maya was like her representative. In addition to the fact that it was unpleasant for me to listen to endless criticism, it was also annoying that she sang from other people’s words.
I was furious and reproached myself for the fact that I could not be more affectionate with my daughter. But how? Sometimes I’ll try to say something good, I’ll go up to her, praise the dress, and she will answer me: “You understand a lot!” or worse: “If you like it, then you should throw it out” – and really threw it away. She cut off her hair, because I liked how thick, curly they were, she cut her hair like a boy. What are you going to do here!
Of course, she stopped wearing the things that I bought her. She demanded money, I gave. But every time her grandmother gave her something, added something, so it turned out in the end that all the new shoes and dresses were grandmother’s gifts. I was offended, and at the same time I felt stupid: what is there to share, dressed – and well.
My mother had given her pocket money before, since Maya’s childhood. I once asked her not to do this so that her daughter would not buy herself too many sweets, ice cream, but my mother looked at me with icy eyes: “Why on earth are you telling me what to do and what not to do? Besides, she spends more time with me than with you.” It was close to the truth, so I kept quiet.
Maya grew up as a beauty, there were always friends and boys around her. And it was strange to me that at the same time she tried so hard to hurt me, to say once again that my shadows on my eyelids were lumpy in wrinkles, or that my blouse was too tight or “Mom, you have yellow circles under your armpits, it’s ugly.” You won’t find fault, like care, but with overtones. And it is not clear why, why, but I have always recognized that she is beautiful.
She treated her father outwardly respectfully, but also completely without warmth, as if we were her foster parents, and not relatives. At the age of 16, she announced that she was moving to her grandmother for good, and, to be honest, I breathed a sigh of relief. So they lived – in one apartment I, my husband and sons, in another my mother and granddaughter. We went to visit them, but they did not like us. But the meetings were rare: birthdays, New Year, May holidays – that’s all, perhaps.
Maya decided to go to medical school, prepared with all her might, my husband and I paid for tutors, but she chose them herself, she was very independent. And she did. She said she was going there to help her grandmother in case of emergency – she really loved her grandmother. And when she got married, her chosen one moved to them. Then my grandson was born to them, but I didn’t help with him, but my great-grandmother.
And I had enough worries with other grandchildren, Kolya’s children, a boy and a girl. Both sons were married by that time and moved out of my place, but Dima had no children. As a mother of a disabled child, I retired early, at the age of 50, and my husband continued to work.
My mother was 81 years old when she began to weaken. She did not have any special illnesses, her strength simply melted away. I went to her during the day to feed her lunch. But she only drank a spoonful of broth – and kept asking me to look at the clock when Maechka came home from work.
I caught myself thinking: I’m afraid that my daughter will say whether I fed my mother well, whether I looked after her well. Like she’s the older one and not me
She and her husband organized the funeral, too. And then everything went on as before, everyone saw each other on holidays. My husband fell ill three years ago. He complained about his stomach, he does not like doctors, so he drank some pills, and then he still went to the clinic. Nothing was found, but he was in pain again. So I decided to ask my daughter for advice. And she suddenly turned on, gave him an examination. It turned out to be a heart attack.
While my father was in the hospital, Maya often went to him, talked to the doctors, kept me informed. I’m not good at it – to negotiate, she succeeds much better. I was not myself from fear for my husband, my heart ached, but Maya reassured me that it was just nervous. One evening I sat and thought: if I stay alone, it is not clear how to live. And then my daughter came in, looked at me and made tea. Just tea with sugar. And it touched me so much, right to tears, because I didn’t expect anything like that from her.
My husband was operated on, then there was a long recovery period, but now he is fine. And Maya and I began to communicate more, she began to tell me about herself, I didn’t even know a lot about her life! We hardly talk about the past, we don’t touch famously. Only once did she say to me: “Mom, you didn’t really love me, did you?” I so wanted to answer “And you me ?!”. But I did not succumb to this impulse, I said: “I always really wanted to love you. And I’m sorry it didn’t work out well for me.” It’s also true.
I am so sad because my whole life is behind me, my daughter is already such an adult woman, and we just now began to talk like a human being, with interest in each other. Sad, but also joyful, because this could never happen, but it did happen. Sometimes I even hug her and she doesn’t dodge like she used to. Finally, I feel that we are relatives and that I love my daughter.