When Motherhood Gets Complicated...Again

Today was my daughters' picture day. 

I awoke earlier than usual to help prepare my daughters for Picture Day and learned that they are outgrowing me faster than I can say wait! I'm not ready for that yet.  They are growing too fast, right under my nose, and I'm glad I chose to be a SAHM over a full time working mom two years ago. It was a difficult decision- as it often is for ambitious mothers- but judging by how fast my kids are growing, I couldn't have done anything more worthwhile.   

Gone are the days when I can choose pretty, frilly dresses with matching bows and instead, my daughter settled for her old favorite shirt with flower leggings for her spring pictures. Nowadays she refuses to wear anything new and loves everything old and boyish. She hates pink and likes loose T-shirts with big bold prints. She wants pink and blue highlights in her hair. She loves Arianna Grande (who the heck?) and these adolescent Disney stars who act like they are far too grown up for their age. How old are they anyway? I guess I can google it but I refuse, until I absolutely have to.

My daughters are 9 and 7 and I'm already starting to feel this. This. This generational gap. This mother-daughter power struggle. This innate urge to just yell you do as I say! but can't, because that's what my mother used to say and I made her pay for it when I became a teenager. 

Motherhood is so complicated, and it's getting more so now that they are getting older. In a weird, twisted way, I miss diapers and baby food. Even wearing breast pads. 

My husband tells me my younger daughter is going to the nurse's office way too often. He worries that she is using it as an escape from uncomfortable situations on the playground during recess. He knows because she is just like him. They are two peas in a pod; polar opposites from me.

As she gets older, I find that she tends to be too sensitive to people's comments and actions. She is too shy. I tell her not to take everything so personally. I tell her she needs thicker skin to live in this world.  The world is tough, and people too, are sometimes tough to deal with.

And that's okay my dear. Sometimes, you just need to move on. 

I've become that mom- lecturing, coaxing, repeating-- knowing there is little I can do to fix the situation.

My daughter is brilliant but too vulnerable, smart enough to achieve what her heart desires, but too much of a perfectionist. She is a part of him, a part of me.

And just like it was to me at one point of my life, this world is starting to appear confusing and difficult to my daughters' growing minds and it hurts to know there is little I can do. This is their world, and a part of growing up is learning to navigate on their own.

I once thought I mastered it all, during a period in which feeding, diapering, bathing, holding and comforting were enough to meet my children's daily needs. Nowadays I'm starting to feel lost--again--as I face situations where my control means nothing.

Sometimes not doing is harder than doing.

Korean Ferry Disaster & Confucianism Gone Wrong: A Mother's Perspective

Nicolas Asfouri /AFP/Getty Images

As a child growing up in Korea, I remember often getting in trouble by teachers and adults for "talking back," "questioning authority," and "being bossy.” There were two leaders for my large class of about sixty students- one boy and one girl- and I was the girl leader who acted too much like the boy leader.

We were given the same tasks and roles in the classroom, yet I was often told that I was "too bossy," while the boy leader was considered to exhibit "good leadership skills." I was too young and naive to understand gender roles at this time and I was simply being true to myself, not realizing that I was expected to behave differently than boys.

About one week before my family came to America, the boy leader who was also my close friend killed himself in his home after school. I don't know the exact details because adults tried hard to keep them from me- but I do know his death involved an imperfect report card, doorknob and scarf.

My friend, this smart and capable young boy, was barely ten years old and already laden with pressure, guilt and fear of parents and teachers. One bad report card was enough for him to think his life was worthless. I don't know exactly what went on in his personal life at home, but it's not difficult to deduce that he was victimized by a system that he was too young to understand.

I too, was too young to understand the implications of my friend's death at the time, but as a child growing up in 80's Korea, I always sensed that something was wrong with the place I called home.

HUNDREDS OF HIGH SCHOOL STUDENTS ARE DEAD OR MISSING

On April 16, 2014, a South Korean ferry called Sewol capsized en route to Jeju island, submerging about 300 people under its dark waters. Of the 476 people who were on the boat, only 174 were rescued including the captain and most of the employees. The rest- mostly 16 & 17-year old high school students on a school field trip, are confirmed dead or still missing.

This of course, is not the first time a ferry capsized killing its passengers. But this incident is especially disturbing because the captain and his crewmembers abandoned their duties and left behind hundreds of trusting minors to die under water.

Pictures and video clips of final moments inside the ferry show students solemnly lined up against the wall and awaiting further instructions by the crewmembers.  You can tell that the ship is slowly sinking but everyone looks calm and orderly. Most of them are wearing life vests, which indicates that there could've been more survivors if the crewmembers made efforts to aid the passengers. 

Instead, the crewmembers ordered everyone to stay put and escaped the ferry by the first rescue boat, leaving behind hundreds of unsuspecting teenagers to die.

No survivors have been reported since then.

AP photo/ Woo Hae Cho

Through this tragedy, I finally came to understand why my world felt so wrong as a girl living in Korea.

 

KOREAN CONFUCIANISM AND ITS IMPLICATIONS ON WOMEN & CHILDREN

The Korean culture is based on Confucianism that deems children and women as inferior and less valuable.  Its rigid hierarchy places males, elders and authorities on top while teaching women and children to obey and follow directions. In Confucianism, a child must obey her parents, then after marriage, obey her husband.

I thought much has changed over the years, but this tragedy reveals that the foundation remains the same. Confucianism must be uprooted. 

Many Koreans to this day wear their age, power and money like badges of honor and bark orders at younger people by acting as if they are untouchable. The worst part of it all--most do as they are told.

These children, so-called "future leaders of Korea," eventually learn to follow the same system they were bred to survive in. They become politicians, executives and captains who create laws, make important decisions and maintain existing institutions. As they age, their status and power increases- and they compensate for their childhood by exercising and abusing their power.

Therefore, it's no surprise that those at the lower end of the hierarchy- children, women and the disabled- are often victims of senseless murders, rapes, abuse and indirect mass killings as evident by the recent ferry incident.

The price for not being taught how to think critically, to question authority, to speak up against wrongdoings, to freely express oneself regardless of gender and social status, to protect oneself against harm, to know one's God given rights and to protect the weak is collective ignorance, which to me, is synonymous with a dead society.

My heart continues to ache for the victims and their families and yes- I will not be afraid to call them victims. They are victims of collective ignorance, indifference and selfishness; victims of a generation that cannot think and act on its own.

The numerous deaths of innocent high school students have stirred the entire country to tears, uncovering layers and layers of corruption, irresponsibility and indifference. The entire nation is grieving and filled with shame, guilt and helplessness. They know something is wrong, and they know something must change- but who and how?

I have lived outside of Korea for more than 20 years yet I still find myself surrounded by the same kind of collective ignorance. Even though I'm an American, I can’t run from my Korean roots. I am American and I am Korean. Both cultures and identities are equally important and meaningful to me.

A culture of repression engenders another generation of repressed and oppressive people. There may be a few revolutionary voices demanding change, yet no one hears or cares if the voice comes from the bottom-- much like the weeping of students that are forever buried deep inside the murky water.

My heart aches for all the missing children. They must've been so cold, so scared and so disappointed that no one came to save them.

I'm grieving yet I know there is little I can change. After all I'm only a mother who sits at the bottom of the hierarchy.

Only a mother.

Yonhap/AP

One Morning of an Imperfect Mother

Mother and Child, Gustav Klimt c. 1905

This morning I heard a tragic news: a close friend has cervical cancer and had to abort her second child to prevent the cancer from spreading. Luckily she found out early enough--thanks to a routine check up necessitated by her pregnancy-- and is now recovering from a hysterectomy.

As a mother and friend, the news hit me pretty hard and as I was sending positive thoughts and prayers her way, my heart began to ache. I could only imagine how hard it must've been for her to go through such immense stress and worry while carrying a new life in her womb. I wonder how much grief she felt knowing she may not be able to keep her child. I wonder if she blamed herself for not taking better care of herself or for not being attuned to her body like 'good' mothers are expected to.

I hope she didn't. I hope she is stronger than the mother I am.

Such self-deprecating thoughts began to haunt my mind as soon as my first daughter started showing signs of developmental delays. She didn't wave, babble or crawl like other babies and I knew pretty early on that she was different. As a young 25-year old mother I didn't know how to handle the weight placed in my life and I resorted to isolation, self-contempt and unhealthy patterns of thoughts that included many angry "why me?" rants into the air as if someone up there can do something to help me.

Miracles occurred in the bible all the time. Why couldn't God let that miracle happen to me? Just once, is all I ask. If you can somehow heal my child and make my life right again, I'll do anything you ask. I'll even start going back to sunday mass like I used to. Please Lord, just once! Just once is all I ask!!

Fast forward eight years- I now realize how empty and vain my prayers were. This wasn't the first time I tried to bargain with God with my manipulative prayers. I once prayed like this when I lost my dog in high school. I told God I'll start going to Sunday mass every week if He lets us find him.

We found the dog after a few days and sure enough, I forgot all about my prayers. I followed my parents to Sunday mass many more times thereafter but not because I was grateful that God found our, but because I had no choice but to obey my parents until I leave home for college.

How convenient.

So this morning, I crawled back into bed after sending off the girls to school and began to pray for my friend. My heart began to ache for her, her lost child and for all the pain and grief she may be going through.

Just then my husband walked through the bedroom door and told me Elise had a horrible morning at school. She didn't like the blue jeans she was wearing and screamed all the way to her class while kicking and trying to take off her pants. We're lucky that the school staff and teachers are so understanding of her needs and always try to be warm and kind to her in spite of her explosive tantrums, no matter how loud and piercing her cries travel down the hallway.

And as always, guilt creeps in. 

I should've been there to drop off the kids. I should've never put those blue jeans on her. I shouldn't be in bed right now. I wonder if those teachers think I'm a bad mom for not being there, for giving my husband the morning drop-off duty. I should've never taken that melatonin last night. I should be able to handle my child better. I wonder if T feels embarrassed by her older sister who lacks self control at times. I hope she doesn't get teased at school. What is wrong with me? What is wrong with her? Is this ever going to get better? Will this ever end?

Then I remember I still have an entire afternoon and evening to make up for the bad morning. I still have a lifetime to try harder, to become a better mom, to learn more, to criticize less. I still have a chance to hold my children and tell them I love them. I still have not one, but two beautiful children to hug and kiss.

Despite my daughter's different needs, she has the sweetest smile and the biggest belly laugh in the world. She can tell me she loves me. She can walk, she can talk and she can scream when something upsets her.

I've been wrestling with the possibility of having a third child. Suddenly this so-called-mommy-dilemma feels like luxury. Suddenly I feel like a spoiled brat who cries over not getting that ice cream for dessert when her belly is full.

Perhaps I'm at exactly where I'm supposed to be, learning through other's stories and my own imperfections.

Perhaps this is all, that really matters.