When Your Own Children Feel Like Strangers: A Mother’s Tale
In my youth, filled with energy and dreams, I, Margaret Smith, devoted my entire self to my children. Those around me would caution, “Don’t lose yourself completely in them; leave something for yourself.” But I paid no heed. Now, at 69, I’m alone, with no one to offer me a cup of tea. Their words echo in my mind, and I deeply regret my past choices.
My husband, John, passed away when our son was just four, and our daughter was six. Being left on my own with two small children was a challenge. I worked two jobs to provide for all their needs. My mother helped, but she’d often remind me: “Children need a mother, not just the essentials.” But who would have fed us if I’d stayed home?
I tried to make up for their father’s absence by showering them with care and indulging them. I believed this would fill the void left by John’s passing. The children grew, each starting their own family. I aimed to be the perfect grandmother, continuing to devote myself entirely to the family.
One morning, I woke up unable to feel my legs. I crawled with difficulty to the phone and called my son. He said, “Mum, I’m swamped right now, I can’t come over.” My daughter didn’t answer the phone. I called an ambulance—they arrived without fuss.
At the hospital, the doctors diagnosed a leg thrombosis. They informed me that the clots could have dislodged at any moment, which could have been fatal. I faced a lengthy treatment and strict bed rest. I begged my children to visit. When they eventually did, they bluntly stated in the ward, “We have our own issues; we can’t look after you.”
My daughter explained that her youngest son was going to university, and my son’s wife was down with the flu. They thought it best for me to stay in the hospital alone with such ‘valid’ reasons for leaving their mother in such a hard time.
After being discharged, I returned to an empty flat. I didn’t even have the strength to cook for myself. My neighbor, Angela Wright, offered to help for a small fee. We became friends, supporting each other with our modest pensions.
Looking back now, I realize that excessive pampering doesn’t replace true love and respect. I failed to teach my children to value and respect their loved ones. In my youth, I sowed permissiveness, and in old age, I reap solitude.
I want to tell all parents: don’t lose yourself entirely in your children, don’t forget about yourself. Teach them love and respect, not just how to have their whims fulfilled. What you plant in their hearts when they’re young will determine what you reap in their future.
