A Burden for a Lifetime
“If you’re asking those kinds of questions, you’d be better off not having children. And dont listen to anyone. I made that mistake once,” her mother sighed. “All those advisers vanish the moment things get hard, but the burden stays with you forever.”
It sounded like sensible advice, but it made Irenes insides turn cold and tight. A lump rose in her throat, and her eyes stung. She knew if she didnt end the call now, shed burst into tears. The worst part? Her mother likely wouldnt even understand why.
“Got it. Thanks, Mum. Ill think about it Well talk later,” Irene said before hanging up.
She hugged a cushion to her chest and hunched over. This wasnt just adviceit was a careless revelation. She could almost feel the door to her past swinging open, pieces clicking into place.
…In raising her daughter, Margaret was diligent and precise. She ensured Irene always had the best food, even if it meant going without herself. Irene had plenty of toys and clothes. Though a single mother, Margaret sent her to piano lessons and dance classes.
In short, Irene had everythingexcept love.
Margaret never told her she loved her. She didnt hug, confide, or praise. She didnt even scold. Margaret was indifferent, as if her daughter were little more than a responsibility.
Irene remembered the time she and her desk mate, Emily, failed a maths test. Emily was distraught.
“Lucky you. You wont get shouted at. Ill be grounded for weeks,” Emily groaned.
“Youre the lucky one. At least theyd notice,” Irene muttered.
Emily gaped at her. Who in their right mind wanted to be yelled at?
“Have you lost it? Fine, take my scolding if you want it,” Emily scoffed.
Irene just looked away. Shed have gladly taken itbut her mother never checked her homework. Why bother? Irene was a straight-A student. Until she wasnt.
At first, Irene thought if she was “good enough,” her mother would finally notice. Maybe praise her piano recitals, her grades, her dance performances. But no. Margaret reacted with detached approval, as if it were expected.
Irene faked illness once, clutching her stomach, hoping for concern, for care. It workedsort of. Margaret booked doctors appointments until they diagnosed mild gastritis. Then came strict meal plans and timed medications. No comfort, no worry. Just efficiency.
Desperate, Irene skipped school, flunked exams, quit her hobbies, even lashed out.
Nothing.
“Fine, dont study. Your problem,” Margaret said flatly one day. “Ill feed you till eighteenafter that, youre on your own. Drop out, and good luck finding work.”
As for chores, Margaret simply said, “No more outings until the floors are done.” Irene tried throwing a tantrumher mother just pointed to the door.
“Save the dramatics for your room,” she said, shutting herself away.
Irene cried half the night, feeling utterly discarded. Like she was a doll to be dressed and tucked in, not a person with feelings.
She pushed further. Once, she stayed overnight at a friends without warning. Would Margaret worry? Forget she even had a daughter?
No. Margaret called everyone, found her, and brought her homewithout a single shout.
“Keep this up, and youll end up in care. They wont coddle you,” she said coolly.
Irene almost wished shed screamed instead.
Years passed. Irene never accepted it, but she grew used to it. Moving in with her fiancé, Daniel, helped. They married quicklyshe was so starved for love, shed have agreed to anything.
Luckily, Daniel was kind. Responsible, with steady plans.
“What do you think about kids?” he asked once.
Irene hesitated. Children seemed the natural next stepbut the thought terrified her. What if she turned out like her mother? What if her child felt as unloved as she had?
“I dont think Im ready,” she admitted.
But plans change. Irene got pregnantunexpectedly. They didnt own a home; bills were rising faster than wages.
“Most people start with nothing,” a friend reassured her.
Daniel was supportive too.
“Its your choice, but were married, stable Id like to be a dad.”
Yet the more she heard it, the more she doubted. Then came that call with her motherand the truth that reshaped everything. Had she been unwanted too?
Margaret said it without malice. Just facts.
Irene shut down for days. She functionedwork, dinners, TV with Danielbut mechanically. Would she ever hear “I love you” from her mother? And what about her own child?
Finally, she went to her mother-in-law, Evelyn. Stern but warm, Evelyn was everything Margaret wasnt.
“Irene? No warning?” Evelyn frowned, opening the door.
“Just wanted to visit,” Irene said, voice cracking.
Evelyn didnt pry. She made tea, set out jam and bread.
“Theres stew if youre hungry,” she offered. “You and Daniel havent argued?”
“No,” Irene bit her lip. “Its Mum.”
And the floodgates opened. She spilled it allthe loneliness, the indifference, the desperate bids for attention.
Evelyn listened, scowling. “I knew you two were distant, but not like this. Still dont hate her. Maybe life hardened her. Shes not crueljust a bad mother.”
“Good people dont neglect their children!”
“They can. Its awful, but it happens. Sometimes they dont even love themselves.” Evelyn sighed. “As for the baby follow your heart.”
“What if Im like her?”
“You wont,” Evelyn snorted. “Daniel told me how you nursed that stray cat. Heartless people dont do that.”
“But a child isnt a cat! What if I fail?”
“Who doesnt? Good mothers worry about being bad ones. We all mess upme, your mum, you. Its not the end. Wanting to love matters more than getting it perfect.”
Irene managed a shaky smile. The fear didnt vanish, but it eased. Evelyns warmth soothed her.
She kept the baby. Pregnancy was roughmorning sickness, mood swings, fear. But Daniel stayed. Ran out for cravings at midnight, rubbed her back, endured her tears. Evelyn helped too, taking her to appointments, teaching her to swaddle.
Margaret called rarely. After the birth, she brought baby clothesnothing more.
Years flew. Irenes daughter grewloud, curious, stubborn. She threw tantrums, broke toys, wore Irene out. But when she was sick, Irene stroked her hair, read stories, fought back tears.
She was ashamed to admit it: she was giving her daughter what shed once craved.
Her relationship with Margaret stayed distant. Irene stopped expecting love. She helped with groceries, checked on her health. Margaret wasnt a good mother or grandmotherbut she was there. Maybe she couldnt love, but she tried in her own way.
And sometimes, thats enough.
