The Elephant Mother I Want To Be

The part of mothering I have yet to grasp is the letting go. I should have known this was going to always be my personal struggle from the very instant I became a new mom. After my daughter was born, when they were about to cut the umbilical cord, I felt a moment of panic. I knew the second they cut that cord, my baby was on her own, no longer solely needing me to be her lifeline. There was a selfish sadness that came over me knowing that I now had to share her; she belonged to her father and extended family just as much as she belonged to me. I went through that same short-lived mourning with each of my children's births. It should be no surprise really, that 18 years later I still struggle with sharing my children only this time it's not really sharing as much as it is giving them over to themselves.

Last Saturday, Amanda had a special day planned with a group of friends. They were going to the Cheesecake Factory for lunch and spending the afternoon shopping. I was spending the day at a scrapbook store working on my nephews' scrapbooks. I wasn't at all surprised when Amanda called me but as the conversation went on . . .

"Hi Mom. Guess what I did."

"Oh, I don't know, what?" I replied, thinking this ordinarily budget conscience girl spent $50 on something frivolous.

"I got my cartilage pierced."

I froze in time. I knew exactly what she meant but since I didn't want that to be true, I tried to convince myself it meant something else. Dead silence -- the kind that seems to last forever.

"Where?" I was still in denial but all the while, a surge of emotions were welling up in me, like a tiny wave in the ocean that was growing into a foamy white-capped tidal wave.

"My ear Cartilage Mom, where else could it be?"

"Oh. I don't know."

More dead silence. I was confused at my own reaction and couldn't think of anything to say, "So -- did it hurt?"

"No, not really. I mean, not as much as I thought it was going to."

"Oh.", was all I could reply, still at a loss for words.

"So are you mad?", she asked with a slight quiver in her voice that tugged a little at my heart.

"No, I'm not mad." And I really wasn't at all. "How much did it cost?", I asked just to fill the awkward silence. At this point, did it matter? What was I going to do? Tell her that was too expensive to take it back?

"Well, it was $20 but that includes the earring. But I didn't get just one I got a pair so I have an extra now. And I also got the cleaning solution so for all that, it wasn't bad, you know?"

I was sad how she was trying to justify it to me and I knew she was in some way seeking my approval, albeit AFTER the deed was done. I wanted to give it to her, the approval she was seeking but there was an awful nagging feeling inside of me I just could not shake. More silence.

"I told you I was going to do it, remember? Remember that one time I was going to have it done but I didn't have my ID with me?"

"Yes, I remember but well . . . . okay, if that's what you wanted, it's your ear. So I'll talk to you later."

When I hung up I couldn't name this feeling I had. I was in a state of shock, of sorts and it was really bugging me. I sat down and thought it out. It was just an ear piercing. It wasn't a tattoo, a full body pierce or anything very drastic at all. She didn't get one of those awful gauges in her ear. I had to keep asking myself what was wrong and then it hit me. It wasn't the fact that she did it; it was the fact that she could do it without me. She didn't need my parental permission and mostly, she didn't call to tell me about it before hand. Yes, Amanda was exercising her legal adult status and that's what was so bothersome to me. I sat and thought about it and then I remembered the elephant.

I've always admired elephants because in the animal kingdom, they are by far the best mothers. Maybe it's that 22 week gestation period that bonds them to their young, I don't know but whatever it is, I love an elephant's maternal instincts. For instance, an elephant Mom will stand over its sleeping baby and not move until he wakes up. If she does however; need to leave, a babysitter, usually an Aunt (yes, a real sister of the Mom) or older female sibling, will stand in the mom's place until she returns. In one documentary I saw about elephants, a young calf died and the mother was grief stricken. I don't know if animals have emotions or robotically operate out of instinct but it was clear to me in this instance, this mother knew exactly what had happened and was mourning the loss of her young. When the rest of the herd was ready to leave, this pachyderm mom could not bring herself to leave the body of her baby. She kept standing next to him, stroking him with her trunk and letting out sighs and slight cries. She tried to walk away a few times but each time she would turn around and go back and nudge the baby again. At one point, she even tried to pick him up to take him with her. The herd finally convinced her to leave but as she walked away her mourning spirit was evident in the way she walked with her head down and slowly dragged her feet onward. During this documentary, this particular herd was followed for months, maybe even years. Months after that death, the herd was traveling back and when they reached the spot to where the dead baby had been left, they all gathered around as if to have a memorial service. They knew exactly what had happened there and collectively, they seemed to reflect on their loss. The mother let out a few cries and once again when it was time to leave, she lingered on at the spot. The herd gave her space and patiently waited as if to say to her, "We know it still hurts, you take all the time you need."

A female elephant might stay in their family unit for the rest of their lives; it's only the males that have to leave and start a family of their own. There is a strong sense of belonging and family unit to elephants. A mother never forgets who her babies are and no matter how old they are, she has a difficult time resigning them to their own lives.

In contrast, an Eagle is an equally befitting mother but not in the same manner of an elephant. The Eagle cares and nurses her young but when it's time to go, it's just time to go! When the eaglet is too big for the nest, the mother knows it's time to let that baby go. What seems to me a harsh dose of reality, the mother pushes her baby out of the nest, allowing it to tumble through the air -- plunging dangerously close to the ground. Just before the baby is to meet its demise, the mother swoops in with her majestic wings and catches her falling baby on her back. She takes it back up to the nest and pushes it out again, doing this time and time again until the eaglet finally catches on and begins to flap his own wings. In the weeks to follow the young eagle gets other life lessons like how to hunt for food but soon the bird is ready to be independent and without any sorrowful good-byes, the young eagle leaves the nest one final time and the mother and baby know each other no more.

I really wish I could be the elephant mother and have my children in my herd forever but I know I need to learn some lessons from the Eagle as well. In the bible God often uses the animal kingdom to illustrate a relationship; throughout the bible we are compared to sheep. So it's not unusual to gain human understanding from the animal world.

I have no objection to an ear piercing. I do not think it's immoral or in bad taste however; I do have to look at that earring in Amanda's ear and it shouts out to me, "I'M ALL GROWN UP NOW. YOU CAN'T STOP ME!" It mocks me and laughs at me sometimes and that is what I find so bothersome.

It's so cruel that we have to be elephant mothers for 18 years and then suddenly trade our trunks in for the wings of an eagle. But I am learning.

And Amanda is soaring.