The Hayaa Oasis

Haven’t you ever sat across your little children and felt unseen? Haven’t you felt like a stranger in your own skin when you watch them thrive in their relationships with others and not with you too?

From ‘The Private Journal’ of Umm Idris.
A quiet vulnerable sharing of her motherhood reflections, 280926, 12:00PM

I love my son. I loved all 19 hours of his labor. I loved all 16 months of breastfeeding him. I love being his mother. I held him everyday and every night he asked for me. But when my second born was conceived, it felt like the rapid change tornadoe-d what could have been the more intimate bond a mother could have with her son. He is four years old now, and I am convinced that it is too late to change the trajectory of our relationship because the foundation has been set. And despite my quiet laments, no none seems to hear the rumbling fears bubbling over within my words. And when my third came, a quiet acceptance set in within both my heart and his. That he simply had to understand that he is no longer the only one, and that his sisters shared his space.

In the months it took for me to prepare for my second child’s birth and later on during her first few weeks of entering the world, my son was readily welcomed by his paternal grandmother at every chance. From spending the day at her home to eventually sleeping over for a day or so. Eventually it somehow got extended to some days, then a week then almost two. I took that – naively – to be an incredible effort to assist me in my pregnancy with another, and then to ease my circumstance postpartum, but I didn’t recognise then the damage it caused in my relationship with him, the gradual distance it caused me. You see my boy is an easy loving child. Agreeable, lighthearted, good natured, and never one who would rebel against boundaries or lines that he cannot cross or bulldoze. It made it incredibly easy for my mother-in-law to care for him when he alone with her. And my goodness, to this day she is an incredible woman who places her grandchildren’s joy and needs beyond her own. She cares for them as deeply as I do, she provides for them as though they are her own. My children – all of my children – look for their grandmother and asks for her frequently and even take to crying when parting ways and returning home.

But in the process of building such an intimate grandparent and grandchild bond with my son… I discovered quiet moments of change that I didn’t think were alarming in the beginning. Insistence from my son himself to sleepover with his grandmother for days on end, refusals to return home when it was time, and even having little reaction to us coming over to check on him as opposed to the great tantrums and heavy overloading emotions that throw his body into overdrive even till today when it was time to leave or to be brought home. Slowly but surely I began noticing him pulling away from me. Asking for his grandmother when he was feeling sad or hurt regularly. And then preferring their home to his own. All the while, I hugged my daughters quietly and wondered if he was strained from me because he felt replaced or he simply felt more loved elsewhere.

I once asked him – my four year old – the most ludicrous question: “Do you love me?” And he said no. What was completely harmless and empty of meaning felt like a punch to my gut. Because the reality is he knows I am his mama. He knows I must discipline him, guide, and correct him even if he doesn’t appreciate my sternness in my rules and my insistence of listening to me first before anyone else – his father’s rights and commands of course taking precedence over my own.

I asked myself, where did it all go wrong? Where did my disconnect with my own child began?

I felt like I let the village step in before I realised he was ready for them without me. After much adjustments on both sides much like every parenthood experience out there, it eventually led to a healthy coexisting of grandparents and parents in the ecosystem of my child’s life, thankfully. But I still recall the devastating cries he had when he held onto his grandmothers hand and I pulled him away to leave week ago, how she would smile and reassure him it is okay, that they will be reunited another time. It hurt me a lot hearing this. Why didn’t I have that? Did my son truly hate me? Does he despise me for some reason? Am I not enough or what he wanted at all?

The world tells me that kids at his age look for what is fun, what is gratifying, and naturally would prefer the unlimited freedom they get from caregivers who carry little consequences and only maximum rewards. It was like a bribery to their nervous systems to be receiving anything they ask for. So of course they become addicted to what hits the endorphins most. Parents do the grunt work, the law-imposing “no” time and again, the boring routines, the boundaries, the party-pooping, and are constantly associated as the enders of endless fun. I was told time and again that deep deep deep down, my son love me and will always love me. So I asked him one day why he felt like he didn’t love me. My wise four year old prince admitted to me that he felt that I was always correcting him, and scolding him when he had fights with his sister – their fights can get rather physically aggressive mind you – and that he felt that I was always scolding him, which I took to him feeling like his sister was being picked over him more often than not (something that was untrue but I could understand him feeling that way).

This entire experience just made me realise one grave thing. A child will never reach out to you unless you reach out first. They quietly gravitate to people who make them feel special over others, and the love bombing from grandparents are just what it takes to let a boy who felt unheard stray some ways away to someone else who provide him with gifts, constant heavy affections, throw away much of the rules and routine, who would explain to him the fun ends when he doesn’t listen to them by telling him that his parents will come to pick him up if he doesn’t listen. I know that there is no malicious intent in it, nor is there anything but pure love shared between my mother-in-law and myself. But in the mind of the small boy between us, we often forget how our own words process in him. In doing so, he quietly associated negative connotations to returning home and being with his parents.

Grandparents often offer total indulgence, and such a thing for a child becomes addicting when coupled with a parent fighting tooth and nail to enforce self-discipline and independence in them. When it gets out of control because the child cannot be told no as easily, it becomes easier to find a swinging sword to control the behaviours that are undesirable instead. A simple repercussion of not reinforcing parallel order of his home in their own. So, I realised that day I wasn’t invisible. Just a clashing reality that seemed more unpleasant to swallow for my son. In a moment of me saying “no” whilst his grandmother opens her arms to hug him whilst he cries, it sets a tone of who was more agreeable to his disposition and when reinforced it becomes exactly that: my son preferring someone else over his own mother.

I don’t think anyone is wrong, mind you. My mother-in-law does her best and deeply loves my children. I keep trying to survive everyday with my kids and raise them the best way I can. My husband fights tooth and nail to provide and keep the family afloat and thriving. We are all pulling our loads. Two mothers, one in season and another past her prime with two different experiences of motherhoods and learning from different generations of past parenthood modeled by our ancestors.

The reality is that the ownership is on us as mothers to understand and give grace to the mothers past their prime time of motherhood who continue to offer what they know to their grandkids. Where boundaries can be forgiven – enforced regularly but still some hits and misses – we should try to understand that they will never mother like us, much like how we would never mother like them. We feel invisible in front of our children because we are quietly battling the discomfort of growing into our role with confidence and pride. Not because of others, but because we didn’t fully step into our roles. The fact is, at some point in the time it took for me to adjust from one child to two and then two to three, I let go just a little and my son felt it and mistook it as perhaps feeling less than his sister, replaced just a little no matter how much I tell him that I love him unconditionally and that I love being his mother. And now, it is time for me to establish it once again, and with an adjusted grace for my son to feel equally valued to his sisters and more importantly equally loved as he once felt he was before he had siblings. Sometimes, it is in our love language to help them see clearly that they are as beloved as any other sibling, even if things have changed back from when times were much more simpler.

I learnt one simple thing: he was a small four year old boy, but even when his reaches out to everyone else, barely nod when you leave, or even tell you he doesn’t love you, no one can replace the mother of a child. Because if anyone had to sacrifice themselves for his safety and his happiness, you know that it is you. No one can replace you. Even if you were invisible every single day, your presence is felt deeply in ways your four year old cannot begin to express. So to the mothers out there struggling with finding that connection again for whatever reason, I know how you are feeling. Your child loves you even if they say they don’t. Your child needs you even if they claim they won’t. You are their mother. And no one can take that away from you. Don’t believe your mind telling you it is too late. Or your mistake is too grave. Don’t believe that your child would ever choose anyone over you even if they said so or even do so. Because when you start to believe it, you have already given up on motherhood before it began.

You are their mother. You were chosen to be their mother. May Allah subhana wa ta’ala never allow the straining of a relationship between a child and his mother. May Allah subhana wa ta’ala protect your silatulrahim, prevent others from separating you from your children, and place it within their hearts to always return home to you no matter how long they are away.