A tribute to Mothers, in memory of Carolina
Today is Mother’s day in South Africa. The first Mother’s day without Carolina. The boys are asleep after a long week of celebrating Cyprian’s 9th birthday, which culminated in a soccer party yesterday with a load of his friends (so very grateful to everyone who came - it was an epic party with a good dose of love during his first birthday without mama). Last night as we were cleaning up together I reminded them that today was Mother’s day. They were well aware of course, and said they just wanted to chill at home. I said we should use Mother’s day to celebrate mama, and just because she’s not with us it shouldn’t mean that we don’t do something special to celebrate her. Cyprian quickly corrected me and said "But she is still with us. She’s in our hearts."
So this flow of words will be a tribute to all mothers, through the lens of Carolina’s approach to motherhood, because whether they realise it or not, our mothers have embedded themselves so deeply in the hearts of their children that even death itself cannot take a mother away from their child.
I must note at the outset that we are fortunate to have Carolina’s own views on motherhood captured in her amazing (and highly recommended) TedX talk, which she gave with the newborn Cyprian in her arms. She also put the text on Medium. I can only humbly offer here a father’s view of motherhood…
A mother's strength and resilience
I was present at the births of both our sons. My love for Carolina and admiration of her strength, both physically and emotionally, were already pretty high going into labour, having walked closely beside her through both the pregnancies and all that comes with it. She had loved the boys long before they were born. Her body was theirs. She had taken extra care of it during pregnancy just because she knew it was working hard to grow these humans inside her. Her scientific mind gorged itself on this incredible biological miracle of pregnancy, while her warm heart overflowed with love to know what was growing inside her. But when she went into labour, and during the whole process of childbirth, my love and admiration shot through the roof, not only for her but for all mothers. The sheer determination and raw strength that a mother needs to give birth is incredible, and surely surpasses any endurance or other challenge that men may subject themselves to. It is hard to see how one can witness childbirth and ever thereafter be able to see women as the weaker sex. Of course every childbirth is different, as is every motherhood experience, and one cannot necessarily draw comparisons, so I’ll only speak of our experience.
Carolina was determined to have a natural childbirth, without any drugs or surgery. It was in line with our general approach to parenting, which largely revolves around loving openly and fully, and then doing what feels right. Of course we were also scientists and remained influenced by evidence. So for childbirth we wanted access to medical interventions as needed. Both births were in a hospital (ironically the same hospital in which she would pass away years later). It was a good thing we were in a hospital because both births were eventful. For Xavier, once his head was out it was necessary for Carolina to turn around before pushing the rest of his body out in order to avoid a complication - quite a task that benefited from her incredible athleticism. Then for Cyprian the cord was around his neck (so had to be cut while he was only partially out), and then his shoulder got stuck. The incredible doctor (who I remain in awe of) managed to work some acrobatics which got Cyprian out safely. However, it was with significant injury to Carolina, which would take months to heal and require further surgery before resolving completely. Never did Carolina ever complain. She was just so happy to have a healthy baby that it didn’t matter what pain or discomfort she had to endure. As long as it was for her children, it was worth it. What a selfless and noble feature of motherhood.
Unfortunately, this selfless and noble feature of motherhood can also lead to unnecessary pain. A mother’s ability to endure great pain (because they do it for their children) can easily lead to women remaining in abusive relationships or putting up with domestic violence. Perhaps it’s because they feel they need the abuser financially in order to take care of kids. Perhaps it’s because they feel that they should take the punch so their kids don’t have to. Perhaps having known the pain of childbirth, they are so resilient that they put up with things they shouldn’t. And the abuse is not just physical. A mother, driven by the love for her kids, could endure substantial emotional abuse from her partner, sometimes at the cost of her own mental health, self-esteem and/or social life, simply because she wants to maintain a (happy?) home for her kids.
Society doesn’t necessarily help in these paradoxes of motherhood, where love for a child can ultimately lead to pain. Terminated marriages are still perceived as a failure of the persons involved, no matter the increased frequency nor normalization of divorce, and our imbalanced society more often points a finger at the woman than a man ("she wasn’t good enough") - in fact it’s more often the woman pointing a finger at herself ("I wasn’t good enough"). More than that though, the emotional complexities of a divorce in the context of a mother’s love are significant. What will happen to the children? How much less time will I now have with them? Will they be safe/healthy with the father if I’m not there with them? These are concerns of a mother for her child that trigger her incredible limitless inner strength to put up with any amount of pain and discomfort in order to protect her children.
Of course there are cases where this man-woman dynamic could be completely reversed, or where genders are not binary, and those should be acknowledged, but I suspect those are few compared to the majority where men are the abusers in question.
Doing a mother's best
In the months following each of the births of our sons, Carolina remained incredibly dedicated to making sure they were growing up healthy. The biggest part of this was breastfeeding. In line with our parenting style she fed them on demand because that’s what felt right to us. It meant that wherever she was or whatever she was doing, when they were hungry, she was there for them, breasts and all. There were times, especially after the first birth, when she had to learn techniques to optimise the breastfeeding. These ranged from a feeding cushion to better positioning to simply knowing what to do for sore nipples (lanolin was a lifesaver and we still use it for small cuts on sensitive skin). Of course, in typical Carolina style, she became an expert at it. Before long she was able to do things like breastfeed on a road trip while they were in a car seat, or on a hike while carrying them without breaking stride, or while working intently on her laptop. Wherever we were, if they demanded breastmilk, she was ever ready to oblige (this included in the middle of the night, so co-sleeping was the norm from day 1, another thing that just felt right). Given the biological and emotional significance of breastfeeding (see part of her motherhood talk) I have no doubt that this approach and dedication by Carolina helped lay really solid foundations for the boys. Of course life is such that a mother can’t always do their best (or, rather, in this case, undo their breast)...
We all know that society comprises diverse cultures and norms, and one of the groupings one can make is according to their stance on breastfeeding (of course similar arguments can also be made to things like nudity, academic expectations, wealth status, etc). In some cultures it is completely acceptable to breastfeed in public while in others it is not. In some cultures breastfeeding should absolutely cease at a much younger age than others. For us, we were lucky. We had the freedom to do what felt right and were not significantly affected by any cultural norms that may have contradicted what we felt was the best we could do for our kids. But many mothers are not so privileged. Many have to listen to elders regardless of whether it feels right to do so. Some cultures pass down traditions about motherhood that may be outdated, no longer relevant or even contradict scientific evidence. These are not limited to physical acts relating to the body, but also emotional ones, such as how to talk (or not talk) about certain sensitive topics. A mother has to navigate the line between what she feels is best for the child and what others in her community tell her is best for her child. This is never easy and I think it is important to realise that even when a mother does something that doesn’t necessarily feel right to her, she still does it because she feels that in the grand scheme of things, it will ultimately be the best for the child (such as the act of keeping an elder happy in order to maintain a stable home for the child). Carolina was a scientist and was able to seek evidence, assess probabilities and reason towards informed decisions. But most mothers don’t have the research abilities she had. Most mothers have to trust what others tell them, which can sometimes be wrong, but when they make a decision, they will always choose what they think, to the best of their ability, is best for the child. So we should be forgiving to mothers who may appear to make bad decisions and we should realise that they still do try, like all mothers, to give their child the best.
Nothing like a mother's hug
When Carolina hugged the boys it wasn’t just an activity, it was an event. She would come down to their height, either by kneeling or sitting on the edge of the bed, and she would stretch open her arms to the full length to invite them in, and they would walk into this huge overwhelming embrace full of pure love. And when she had them wrapped in her arms she would squeeze them tightly against her while her eyes squeezed closed and her smile revealed that her soul was in heaven in this moment. There are many physiological benefits of hugging, such as the release of oxytocin (the "love hormone" — also mentioned in Carolina’s motherhood talk) and some very obvious emotional benefits. Carolina was a hugger. She would readily hug people she met and especially her friends and family. She loved hugging her boys and during the pandemic it was torture for her to keep her distance at times because of her vulnerable immune system.
Apart from the culture of social distance that the pandemic has brought, as well as the sad reality of many creepy men that take inappropriate pleasure from hugs, it is unfortunate that we generally don’t seem to hug much in many cultures today. The comfort and safety of a hug that a mother gives her child is partly present in any hug we may give to each other. Even the intention is a powerful statement of caring (like when a friend asks "do you need a hug?”). A hug reminds us of the closeness of our fellow human beings. It reminds us that there is love in the world. It makes our burdens bearable for that moment, almost as though the touch of another human being instantly shares the load. Maybe it’s because once, when we were completely fragile and vulnerable, we were hugged by our mothers, and our bodies never forgot.
When I was in my 20s, fresh out of university and employed in my first job in our very young democracy, I joined fellow young professionals on many visits to orphanages around Johannesburg and Pretoria, to see how we could help out. Whenever we had our feedback sessions after such visits the one thing that always stood out was how much the kids in those homes just wanted to be hugged. We could have done nothing else during those visits but give hugs, and it would still have made a big difference — and isn’t it amazing yet frustrating to think that anyone is capable of hugging an orphaned child hungry for a hug. A mother’s hug is a special and priceless thing in this world, and when it is taken away, for whatever reason, the world becomes a less better place, especially (but not only) for those from whom it’s been taken away.
The freedom to love
Carolina was free to love to her maximum capacity. This was a privilege and we appreciated it as such. She had the space to express her love fully, whether in the form of hugs or chats or little special moments with her kids. During Carolina’s last few years the weight of the cancer became more and more significant, both physically and emotionally. She would have to spend more and more time in bed or doing less active things than she used to. So I necessarily (and gladly) took on the bulk of the family logistics. But it meant that I was the one shouting at the kids to get ready in time for school or arguing with them about food preferences or negotiating bedtimes/rewards/punishments, etc. Carolina could focus fully on love and not logistics (apart from the cancer and all that came with it of course). A funny example that we teased each other about: if she saw the boys sleeping sweetly she would absolutely have to go kiss them gently — the loving urge was too strong. I, on the other hand, would absolutely not want to go near them so as not to risk waking them up. She was love, I was logistics! And now that she’s gone the balance is broken. The team is shattered. And I realise more and more what an unfillable gap there is in terms of that infinite unconditional love that they so freely received from her.
Of course I can see it clearly because of the trajectory our lives happened to take. For many, that freedom to love is not a given, and is actually sometimes never even experienced. A mother’s love, in its purest form, is certainly unconditional, but context matters, and overwhelming societal influence will always be there. Some mothers are trapped from the outset in abusive relationships that eliminate that safe space to love freely. Some mothers may face cultural pressures that prevent them from expressing their love openly. Some mothers may need to focus entirely on survival (famine, conflict, etc) with little space for loving freely. Some mothers may be so young that they have barely had the chance to deal with puberty, let alone all the pressure that comes from society. In an ideal world we would help all mothers to have a safe space to love freely. A mother’s pure and unconditional love should be set free without judgement nor peer pressure. The unfortunate reality is that until some really significant progress is made on achieving global development goals, we are unlikely to create enough of those safe spaces for all mothers.
In the meantime, perhaps all is not lost. Perhaps mothers who are able to take more control of their lives can take inspiration from Carolina and love a bit more freely, live a bit more honestly, be more themselves and less what their surroundings want them to be. Perhaps as fathers we can take on more of the logistics or burdens in order to give our children’s mothers more space to love freely and without constraint. Perhaps mothers can demand that space. Perhaps we can at least be aware, and spread awareness, of the possibility of releasing more of a mother’s fundamentally unconditional love from behind the curtain of socio-cultural norms and everyday stresses. If we can do this, and set our mothers free to love in the purest, most open, full way that Carolina did, then maybe we could ultimately achieve that vision she painted, in her talk on motherhood, of a better world for us all.
So, Happy Mother’s Day my love. Our hearts are shattered, but only because you filled us with so much love that anything less would be completely inconceivable. Thank you!
And a Happy Mother’s Day to all mothers out there — may you find ever more moments, and ever more space, to love as freely and unconditionally as only a mother can.
(This Mother’s day, please do watch Carolina’s talk on motherhood, as I will soon do with the boys when they wake up, and marvel at her awesomeness, and how lucky we are to have had her in our lives and, as Cyprian said, forever in our hearts)
