Raising Mothers

May 2010 Issue

by Annette Lyon
I’m raising three future mothers. That simple fact has
an enormous effect on how I mother them. I’m not raising girls. I’m teaching and nurturing the mothers of my grandchildren.

Some day—not as far away as I like to believe—my daughters will be the ones swaddling their babies, reading scriptures as a family and teaching little ones to pray.
Thinking about the future—how I’m not raising them to be girls, but women—changes everything.

As a result, I’m very aware of how I talk about motherhood in their presence. I make a point to show them how much I enjoy spending time with them, and that while I enjoy friends, my writing career, and more, they are far more important than anything the world can offer. Around third grade, when one daughter told me that someday she wants to be an artist and a mom—but a mom most—I felt a great sense of accomplishment. She took it for granted that she could be an artist, because at her age, Mom wanted to be a writer and now is. But she wanted to be a mom first, I think because she knew motherhood is more important to me.

I make sure that if I make a promise to my children, I carry it out. They need to know that they can trust me, that their foundation in life is stable. At times that means rescheduling a book signing or outright declining invitations for book promotion. But so be it: my daughter will remember that I trudged in the mud and rain with her on the fourth grade handcart-trek field trip. I doubt the manager of the bookstore will remember that I rescheduled my signing for the next day so I could keep my promise.

When I’ve put on a little weight or my face sprouts pimples, I swallow before complaining. The last thing my daughters need in today’s society is to hate how they look. No, I’m not always happy with my body. But I try not to focus on the negatives. And that’s for their sakes. I don’t want my girls thinking they need to diet in junior high or to think that zits will give them social leprosy, or that their worth is in any way associated with appearance.

But I also want them to value their bodies as gifts from God.
That means teaching them things like hygiene and modesty at a young age. It also means keeping the communication lines open when they have questions as their bodies change, because I want them to come to me for answers. Some day, I want their daughters to go to Mom with questions. If my girls have healthy attitudes toward intimacy and other sensitive topics, they won’t have a need to seek out information from inaccurate sources. They won’t feel ashamed of their bodies.

How can my daughters be good mothers if I don’t model motherhood for them? How will they value womanhood and motherhood if I don’t show them how much those roles mean to me? Will they see their intrinsic, divine worth as a daughter of God if I put myself down and harp on how fat I look?

In addition to my three daughters, I have a son. He is my oldest child. His dating years aren’t far off. Just as I look at his little sisters and see future mothers, I look at him and realize that I’m raising a future husband and father.

How will he choose a worthy companion? How will he learn to treat a woman with respect and honor? How can I teach him to be a good husband and father?

Again, I put my behavior under the microscope, being very aware of the messages I’m sending him. I’m aware of how he treats me and his sisters and try to encourage respectful behavior. I praise times when he honors his priesthood, when he helps around the house (especially without being asked to!), when he reads to his littlest sister.

I didn’t always look at motherhood this way. During the diaper years, I was doing well if I could function on four hours of sleep, keep everyone fed, clean, and napped. If I worked in watercolors or play dough time, I was a rock star.
But as they get older, the stakes get higher.

My son will be in my care for only three more short years.
That’s it. My oldest daughter has five left in the nest.
They’re growing up. The clock is ticking.

Before I know it, I’ll be a grandmother. I’ll watch my adult children take on the mantels of motherhood and fatherhood. Between now and then, I’ll use Mother’s Day and Father’s Day to ponder the future parents I’m raising and to think on ways that I, as their mother, can prepare them for what lies ahead.

As their mother, that is my honor.