Dear Reader: Our very own UK-based Ellie Stoneley has been shortlisted for the prestigious Brilliance in Blogging award for her blog, Mush Brained Ramblings.
Here is her latest work:
“Sticks and stones may break my bones But names will never hurt me”
This pearl of wisdom, attributed to a Mrs George Cuppples in something called Tappy’s Chicks back in 1872, is now part of nursery folklore.
I’ve never been particularly bothered by names or labels, which is probably just as well. I always wanted to be known as Beth (inspired by sweet gentle Beth from Little Women), but that never stuck, instead I ended up with Ellie as a result of my brother singing his version of (N)ellie the elephant very gleefully when my mother plated my hair into tight braids behind my ears which then stuck out at right angles.
I married in my mid forties (maybe the ears had put people off before that) and a few months before the wedding, was referred to by someone as a ‘spinster’ that’s one of the few names I have objected to … not long after that I became a “Mrs.,” a label that seems somehow too grown up for me and I’ve never quite got the hang of. Then, by an utter miracle, just over four years later, I became a mother.
Once you embark on the journey to motherhood, particularly as an ‘older woman,’ the names and labels come thick and fast, people also seem eager to put you into boxes. I was amused rather than being irritated by being put into a box labelled ‘geriatric mother’ which sat neatly on the dusty shelf beside one alongside ‘elderly primagravida.’ I spent over 9 months in that one. It never bothered me really, more caused me to raise an eyebrow and stubbornly keep moving forwards in a bid to prove everybody wrong and carry a pregnancy full term.
I did, against all the odds.
“Mummy” is the best name I’ve ever had and one I never dreamt I would be able to boast of. I wear the ‘mother’ badge with enormous pride, I positively glow with joy every morning when I wake up to motherhood… I don’t see myself as a ‘Mum,’ definitely more of a ‘Mummy’ – I’ve never been one for abbreviations. I particularly love it in playgroups when we all start off knowing each other as ‘Hope’s mother,’ ‘Hazel’s mum,’ ‘Alfie’s Mummy’ and so on.
Being known as “Hope’s Mother” causes me to hug myself with glee and shake my head in wonder. Suddenly, I’m part of a huge enormous gang – one that had kindly, but firmly excluded me for so long. No more would I miss out on invitations to 1st birthday parties. No more feeling sad that I had no special-someone to watch in the Nativity play. I have arrived in the ‘Mummy’ box.
Since Hope’s birth, I’ve been labelled an “older mum,” an “earth mother,” “one of those breast-feeding mothers,” and this week, I found myself talking on BBC radio stations (UK) about being a “parensioner” – this latest name coined by some bright, young thing in a plush PR agency trying to attract column inches for a client (very successfully – hence, the inclusion of the word ‘bright’).
An insurance company has published a study saying that there has been a 300% increase in women over the age of 40 having children, since the 1990s … and the word they used to describe us irresponsible, selfish, and generally fossilized old souls is ‘parensioner’ (think parent and pensioner). Apparently, by the time our children are in their teens, we will be too old and frail to look after them properly and we won’t be able to afford to retire due to the cost of raising children.
In both the radio interviews I did, I was asked if, as a ‘parensioner,’ I considered myself to be selfish having a baby so late in life; selfish to the baby on many levels (physically, appearance wise, mentally, technologically). I was also asked if I had her to look after me in my old (maybe next month perhaps) age. I did actually snort, I think, at one point during the interview. I know the media has to be sensationalist, but I did find it strange they needed to ask something so ridiculous.
There is an argument which says that having a child is in itself a selfish act, so following on from that, then yes, of course I’m selfish. I didn’t simply want a child, I went out of my way (and all the way to India and Spain) to reach motherhood. I don’t really think I’m selfish, but I am an older mother – that’s just how it is. I make sure I have time and lots of it for my daughter. I have set up bank accounts and savings to protect her and with 8 Godparents to love and cherish her, I’m still breastfeeding her to make sure she gets the best possible start in life. I think I have done all I can, so far, to ensure she’s always taken care of and whatever happens to me, she knows how very wanted and special she is.
None of us know what is round the corner and how life will turn out in terms of our own mortality, but what I do know for sure is that a child needs to grow up loved and cherished. And maybe, just maybe, we ‘parensioners’ are pretty good at the love and the cherishing, however grey our hair and crumbly our knees.
Words can hurt us. It is important to listen. but it’s also important to know when not to listen to those who want to classify, label or box you into a corner and expect particular behaviours, actions and outcomes because of the way they decide you are. It is also, I believe, helpful to retain a sense of humour as far as names and labels are concerned.
So many people persist in using names as labels and shutting the lids on boxes to ensure the dangerous contents can’t force their way out and cause trouble by thinking outside of their box. Just imagine what would happen if the ‘geriatric mothers’ got together with the ‘older mums’ … Oh, they have! We ‘midlife mothers’ are a force to be reckoned with!
Right then, where are my slippers? This parensioner is getting sleepy and in need of a nightcap … it’s my age you know!!!
Vote for Ellie’s Mush Brained Ramblings in 5, the Inspire category: http://www.surveymonkey.com/s/B82J3SN