funny, isn't it?
by jeanne charters

Sometimes, when I think that we humans haven’t come very far in our quest for intelligence and compassion, I think about my daughters and know that there has been progress–lots of it!

Since this is May, I want to discuss mothering, in its highest, lowest, and most clueless forms. My mother was extremely controlling. She did it out of a wish to protect me from all things that might hurt me. I know well that I was loved by my mother; but early on, I vowed not to be that kind of mother when I had my kids.

It should be noted that I was an only child who had never held a baby in my life until my first daughter was born to me. No babysitting…no little neighbor babies around my house…no exposure to anyone under the age of 12. I expected babies to come out easily, be perfect and, most of all, be reasonable.

When Cori was born, I was 21 years old. When I asked my obstetrician about the possibility of natural childbirth, something I was reading about in magazines, he treated me like the ignorant child I was. Instead, he put me in a room and left me there alone for 8 hours to howl in terror until he knocked me out, did a botched episiotomy and took my little girl by forceps.

Child birthing in the 50’s was barbaric. All we were told was to try not to scream. Since I had no idea of what labor was all about, I figured that would be a cinch. Afterwards, I felt so embarrassed that I had lost control and made a fool of myself at Mercy Hospital. I recall no mercy at Mercy.

By the time I was 27, I had Stacia, Julie and Caroline as well. They were delivered by C-section because of a tumor I’d had after Cori was born. I was grateful to have a section because I was terrified of another normal birth.

So, anyway, there I was living in a teeny walk-up apartment in Chicago with 4 tiny girls and a husband who was gone most of the time trying to rise on some corporate ladder or other. I had no car, no family, no friends. Plus, I had the convoluted common wisdom of the time telling me that to pick up a crying baby would spoil her beyond redemption. I made a lot of mistakes. So many, in fact, that I am still amazed that those 4 little girls have turned out as well as they have.

Coming from a controlling mother, I vowed not to repeat that particular mistake. However, I think I erred too far on the side of permissiveness, except for the times when I nearly lost my mind and behaved in ways bordering on child abuse.

Okay, okay, so I wasn’t that perfect mother from I Remember Mama or The Donna Reed Show, but I wasn’t Joan Crawford with a wire coat hanger either. Plus, I’ll bet even Donna Reed wasn’t like Donna Reed when the TV cameras turned off. Like most of us in those days, I did the best I could with little information and a societal attitude of “spare the rod and spoil the child”.
But let’s get back to my premise of humans in their quest for intelligence and compassion. My 4 daughters have birthed 10 babies now…7 boys and 3 girls. They did it with the help of hospitals, doctors, midwives, epidurals, and home birthing techniques. They remember those births as the most joyous times of their lives. Now that’s a lot of progress.

When Cori, my eldest, asked me to come to California to be with her at the birth of her first child, I didn’t go. Frankly, I couldn’t bear the thought of watching my little girl go through that agony. Turns out I missed out on a beautiful natural birth with a midwife in attendance…and her son weighed over 9 pounds! Cori truly doesn’t remember agony around the birth.
My daughters’ sons and daughters are beautiful, wise, selfish, funny and glorious. They are strong individuals, each and every one of them, because their mothers have done a great job of mothering them with love and consistency. “Time out” has replaced the spatula, and, wonder of wonders, it works! I’ve seen it.

My grandchildren include a child with special needs, some with learning difficulties and one who will soon need a kidney transplant. But each of them is perfect in this family’s eyes. When the child struggles, the mother helps or tutors the child. She does not medicate. I realize that some children truly need medication, but I fear that attention deficit disorder and depression have become the buzz words that help some parents abrogate responsibility in this generation as sure as ignorance helped in mine.

So, on this Mother’s Day, I cheer progress and intelligence and compassion. Funny, isn’t it that some things really do get better with time?

Jeanne Charters is a former V.P. of Marketing for Viacom Television. She started her own award-winning broadcast advertising agency in 1990. Jeanne lives in Fairview with her husband, Matt Restivo.
[ charmkt@juno.com; 828-628-0023 ]