The troubles between mothers and daughters

Yesterday I called my mother to coordinate her travel arrangements to
visit Doug and I after the baby is born. She's very excited about her
first grandchild and has already crocheted enough booties for his first
year. A few weeks ago, I had to tell my mom that I didn't want her
here for the actual birth for several reasons; I don't want anyone in
the birthing room other than my support team, we don't know when the
baby will be born, and Doug and I want some private time to bond with
the baby without people telling us what to do. My sister told me that
I had hurt my mom's feelings and I felt bad about that, but this could
be the only child we ever have and I want us to have an intimate family
experience with just the three of us. I feel bad for being selfish in
this respect, but it's how we want it to be.

As we were discussing the dates and travel times I mentioned that it
would be great if she could come up during Thanksgiving week and she
immediately said, "No, after." I said why not? And of course she said
she didn't want to be here during the holiday. I became unglued. I
immediately told her that Thanksgiving is not a religious holiday and
it's mostly a tradition of homecoming to spend time with the family.
But, my mother is a Jehovah's Witness and there's nothing I can say to
convince her otherwise.
She has been brainwashed to believe that all holidays are pagan
activities and must be avoided at all costs.

The reason I got so upset is because my Mother's choice of religious
practice has caused me and my siblings so much pain in our lives. We
have been robbed of a happy relationship with our mother because she
won't celebrate any of life's special moments. Can you imagine a life
without celebrating baby's first birthday, first Christmas, baptism,
holidays etc? I can, because we lived it. My life as a child was a
long string of days without the possibility of special days to break up
the monotony of our poverty. We couldn't participate in the Pledge of
Allegiance, holiday plays or concerts, couldn't play Dungeons &
Dragons, not allowed to play sports or to date anyone "of the World."
It was miserable. To say that I didn't think of suicide, is to say
that the sky is not blue. I wanted out more that anything I have every
wanted in my life, I was a prisoner and until I was able to leave home
of my own accord my room was my cell and the Jehovah's Witnesses were
my jailers.

There was no joy in my home life because every Tuesday, Thursday and
Sunday were meeting days and we had to go. If we didn't go, I had to
suffer the consequences which meant I could not go to the football
game, use the car, go to my dance class (which I paid for) or go
skiing. It was worse than being grounded. We were always told that we
had to go to the "meetings." It wasn't mass or church that we
attended, they were "meetings" in a windowless building where there
were no classes for children and we all sat in theatre seats facing
forward listening to the "elders" who were mostly uneducated white men
who were telling us what to do. Oh, and by the way, women were and
still are forbidden to give lectures to the congregation. To say that
I hated it, only scrapes at the sore that I have borne all these years.

There was another side to this that my mother fails to remember, the
treatment received from the other witness kids. I was an achiever and
excelled in track & field events as a matter of fact, one of my long
distance records still stands twenty years after I finished the race,
but this accomplishment was met with disgust and shame because I was
recognized in the newspaper for my feat. But, for me it meant that I
got in trouble at home, got counseled by the elders and the witness
kids were calling me a harlot of the world! Can you believe that? I
was treated as if I were the vermon of the earth. I still have the
newspaper clipping in my scrapbook and consider it a badge of defiance
against the regime.

When I left home, my grandparents welcomed me with open arms and I
spent my first real Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's Celebrations
with them. It was such a departure from the miserable nothing special
days we would spend at our house. We were so poor that the Lion's Club
and the VFW would give us a Thanksgiving and Christmas box each year.
They were so generous and every time we received the boxes my mother
would remove anything that had a holiday motif or icon on it. Which
meant no candy canes, no Christmas candy and no stockings. It was
"just" a box of food that our friends gave to us each year. Of course
we did not have a turkey dinner on any holidays, instead my mom would
cook the turkey, strip the meat from the bones and store it in the
freezer for future meal preparation.

As an adult, I can understand why my mother embraced the Jehovah's
Witnesses. She was poor, with three children and every week someone
cared enough to pick us up and take us to the meeting on Sunday.
During the week, a Spanish speaking woman would visit for a bible study
and would teach my mother English. If I was in her situation, I may
have done the same thing. I'm sure she thought she was doing the best
that she could for us at the time and the concept of not celebrating
Christmas meant that she didn't have to worry about buying presents
with the little money that she had. It really makes a lot of sense
from that perspective. But, the thing that was missing, was the joy in
sharing special days with one another.

I don't go home to visit very often because I really don't have many
reasons to. I do love my mother and all, but I don't need to go home
for Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Year's, her birthday, her anniversary
or anything special. The last big event in my family was my wedding
and of course she came and totally surprised me when she respected my
choice of religious ceremony and didn't stay seated through the whole
ceremony, unlike Doug's dad who sat through the whole thing. Even my
non-Catholic friends stood when prompted to. I was amazed and happy
that she was enjoying the wedding and having a good time with Doug's
Grandma.

Now I fear that my mother won't come to the Baptism in January because
the Witnesses don't believe in childhood baptisms, but it's a
significant family event and I hope she will come. I dread the day
when our son wonders why Grandma doesn't celebrate holidays and I'll
have to explain to him the differences in religious beliefs with the
hope that he will develop a greater tolerance for religious freedoms.
I hope that we can create some special non-holiday family events that
my mother will feel comfortable with.

I guess what I've always wanted is a non-judgmental relationship free
of religious strife with my mother where she accepts my choices and is
happy with the person that I've become. Doug tells me that I shouldn't
beat myself up about it because we are such different people. He's
right, we are different. I wish that I could be a more loving person
and not get mad about the differences and embrace the commonalities,
but there really aren't that many. We come from different worlds and
experiences and my world view is totally different from hers.

Maybe the birth of our son will give me the clarity of mind to find the
maternal bonds that link all mothers and daughters across the
generations and give me a second chance at building a better
relationship with my mother.