Having spent most of my young adulthood thinking that motherhood wasn't for me, it feels a little strange to have become a mother now. Of course, I'm not a "young" adult anymore, and am in a very different place in my life than 10 or even just 5 years ago, so it makes sense that my feelings about a lot of things would have changed. And besides, my reservations about motherhood had more to do with my fears that I wouldn't be a good mother. I suppose everyone's got similar doubts.
Now that Evan's here, I'm not as worried about whether I'd be a good mother or not (I'm still plenty worried, just not as much as before he was born). But every once in a while, looking down at him in my arms, I'm filled with tremendous fear that I won't be able to protect him from all the not-so-nice things in this world. I don't even mean the big things like war or crime. It's the things closer to home, like bullying or abuse or even scrapes and broken hearts. Just thinking about Evan being hurt, physically or emotionally, makes my heart ache. It's silly I know, because he'll have to go through all kinds of experiences, good and bad, and I can't and shouldn't try to protect him from it all. But that knowledge doesn't make me feel any better.
There's a song by Diana Ross and the Supremes, "Love Child," that I've never been able to sing without choking up. There are various parts of the song's story that I identify with, but the line that always chokes me up is "No child of mine will be bearing the name of shame I've been wearing..." In the song the "shame" is of being a child of an unwed mother, so I can't relate 100% but there are certainly experiences in my life that I am determined to keep my son from experiencing.
I think the biggest thing I'm worried about right now is the fact that he is multiracial. I had wondered from the moment I got married what our child would "look" like...not that I think physical appearance is important, but because I have personal knowledge from being biracial myself that physical appearance often influences how others perceive you and how you perceive your own identity. I had assumed that Evan would look mostly Japanese (and was a little sad that he may not identify at all with his Irish-American heritage), but now that he's born, and he's got blond eye brows and brown hair (of course it's very possible that those features will change), I'm afraid that he'll be the target of teasing and bullying. After all, I was.
Yes, it's decades later and you can see multiracial celebrities on Japanese TV all the time, but the town where we live is still quite "traditional," and people aren't used to seeing foreigners. Most people in my neighborhood don't even know that I'm American, because I was introduced to them by my Japanese middle name. In this community, I don't know how I'll be able to instill in Evan a positive sense of himself even as he may experience attacks from the outside.
It makes me realize how hard it was for my own mother--and she also had to deal with the social stigma of being a single mother in Japan. It also makes me realize how strong she had been...she must have experienced so much pain every time I came home crying because someone had bullied me for being biracial. But instead of letting it show, she put on a brave face and insisted that I be proud of being biracial, of being "double." I'll need to draw strength from her example as I navigate similar waters in raising Evan.
Wow, I didn't mean to "go there" in this (or any) post. It sure doesn't match the picture I chose to go with the post! But I guess this is what's weighing heavy on my mind at the moment.
I'll try for a more lighthearted topic next time.
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