The Universe is Not a Negligent Mother
How becoming a mother is healing my relationship with Life
Welcome. If you’re new here, I’m a writer, new mama, and grieving daughter, exploring what it means to fully embrace the creative messiness of life. I share whole-hearted, weekly reflections to help us remember our shared humanity. Thank you for being here. 💞
Hello.
As I write this, our babysitter is pulling out of the driveway, on her way to take Noah to the library. It’s the first time someone has taken him on an outing without us and the anxiety I feel is real. It’s less than 10 minutes away and they’ll be back before naptime, still, it’s a big deal and I’m giving myself grace for being worried.
Becoming a mother is healing my connection with my own mom in ways that are still being revealed, but it’s also healing my trust in life.
Watching a tiny human develop with such close intimacy is like being able to go back to the beginning and see myself more clearly. How we’re each born with innate needs and desires, how the ways we engage with our environment and receive love and nurturing (or not) from our caregivers supports the natural unfolding of our growth.
I’d be lying if I said my mothering isn’t informed by all the ways I wasn’t mothered well. Yet, when I respond to Noah in a way I wish my own mother had responded to me, I also viscerally feel the overwhelm, frustration, and exhaustion that some days I can barely keep at bay. The same emotions I know my mother felt on a regular basis because this isn’t easy for any of us.
Add in generational trauma, lack of financial resources, and a toxic marriage, and it’s easier to extend compassion instead of condemnation for the outbursts of rage or shaming I experienced from her as a child.
When I step back and reflect on the convergence of these pathways- the mothering I received (or didn’t) and the way I’m attempting to care for Noah, I can see there’s a third element or force connecting all of us. In my journals, in my prayers, I call her Mama. Short for Mama Gaia, I began connecting to this benevolent life force years ago, when I still wanted to pray but my conception of a masculine God just wasn’t cutting it.
Writing prayers to Mama was a way for me to receive the tender love and care I longed for before I ever dreamed of becoming a mother myself.
Raising Noah has deepened my understanding of this life force and made me realize all of the limitations I’ve placed on it, from my human perspective of my own mother. How often do I let my inner critic loose when I fall down or make a mistake? How often is the voice I hear skepticism instead of encouragement? Or believe my dreams and desires are a burden instead of a gift?
I’ve been interacting with life like a wounded child, uncertain of my own worthiness, doubting the capacity of life to respond to my needs with generosity instead of negligence.
The truth is, Noah’s not able to always understand my love and care. When he climbs the stove for the third time in a row while I’m cooking and I gently remove him again so that he doesn’t burn his little fingers- he definitely doesn’t feel gratitude.
He’s pissed. He’s frustrated. He feels held back and restrained.
There are other times I carefully watch him instead of intervening with help because I know letting him solve a problem or try something on his own will enable him to develop important skills. There are times when my help would actually hinder in the long run. There are instances when not helping is the more loving thing to do.
Yet.
How many times have I interpreted this as painful ignorance of my suffering? Or thought I had to “prove” myself and work harder to receive the thing I so badly wanted? How often have I questioned the presence of a caring Mother just because I wasn’t getting what I wanted when I wanted it? Or when have I rejected the support and resources because I believed they were conditional?
Like Noah, I’ve been pissed. Frustrated. Kicked my arms and legs, screaming at the Universe for not hearing my prayers. For not giving me the answer I desperately wanted. Not allowing me to be with the person I knew was meant for me with absolute certainty.
It may be years before Noah thanks me for not letting him burn his hand on the stove. In fact, he may never thank me. Never realize the countless times I protected him or fed him or held him in my arms, comforting his cries.
I’m not doing it for recognition or reciprocity. No matter how many times he protests, I will still be here, doing my best to keep him safe. How much more does Life do for us? How much more love is available and present, even when, in our childish fit, we can’t see it?
What if we stopped treating life as if it were our negligent mother and trusted that we were children of a benevolent, abundant universe?
How would that change our relationship to our own mother, our children, and our dreams?
I still default to having my own version of the toddler tantrum. I get impatient, belligerent, even. Fearful that my needs won’t be met or convinced that maybe life got distracted and didn’t hear me the first ten times.
When I summon the courage to believe in a loving connection with life, moving from a place of faith and trust, I’m able to release my expectations around how and when my needs will be met. I can handle redirection (re: closed doors and disappointment) with more grace instead of banging my head against a brick wall. I can ask for help and be open to how it shows up or realize there’s more value in the skills I’m building when the help doesn’t show up.
The healing way is a journey, a remembering and forgetting and remembering again.
I hope this serves as your reminder today. You are loved and cared for by a benevolent life force. An unconditionally loving Mother with more than enough to give and no limit to the ways she will guide and protect you, ensuring your growth into who you were always meant to become.
The babysitter just returned. I can feel the tension ease out of my body. It brings a smile to my face when I think about Mama Gaia this way, not a detached presence but viscerally interested in our wellbeing and success.
Your turn.
What is your current relationship to your mother, and the greater Mother?
Do you believe Life is benevolent? Why or why not?
If you felt safe and loved unconditionally, how would that change your relationship to risk? What risks would you take if that were true?
P.S. I’ve written additional essays about the journey of motherhood- “Growth Happens in Frustration,” and “Life Lessons from a 9 month old.” Before I had a Substack, I shared some reflections in the earliest days of being a mama on my other website, TheBarefootBeat.
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Deeply moved by your words, thank you for sharing your heart so beautifully. I struggle in my own relationship with my mother and I too, have found a powerful connection to Mama Gaia in the last 7 years ...and even more so in the last 3 since having my daughter. I am in awe of the way I am held and I loved your call to change the perspective of how life is treating us. Your words have made me reflect on my struggles with my own mother and how I can have more grace in this relationship. Thank you, can’t wait to read more 🤍
I really enjoyed reading this article Mariah, it helped me to look at a lot of my re-directions from life in a powerful new light through your stove analogy. I particularly liked when you shared "I’m able to release my expectations around how and when my needs will be met." - trusting they always will be, yet the timing and the exact manifestation of those needs. Thank you 💖