Like the first time around, I had a vague idea of what to expect because I was a reader. I’d never been around babies before and none of my friends had babies yet. I’d hear snippets of conversations from others more experienced, I’d see a bit here and there, but I honestly had no idea what it would feel like up close and personal until I actually had my own babies. Fast-forward twenty-plus years and I feel like I’m doing it all over for the first time. Because as our sons gradually became more serious with their now-wives, it started to dawn on me that, as comfortable I’d become in my role as a mother, I was now venturing into unfamiliar territory.
To be honest, I’m amazed at the ease in which I go right back into my mothering role when I babysit a young child, even this far removed from having toddlers of my own at home. I know to cut up the food in small bits, and I use the little cups. My board books take me back decades, reminding me of the comfort of small bodies next to mine as we read on the couch, and I relish the simple pleasure of young company as we water the flowers and watch the chickens together. It comes back effortlessly, familiar and easy.
But this isn’t mothering in any way I’ve ever known. Because I’m not their moms. Not in the sense that I’m who they’ll want in a delivery room or who they’ll ask advice from as they raise kids. They have their own mothers. And yet there’s still mother in the title of who I am.
I think that’s because of the love that naturally comes as we see our sons choosing their life partners. It’s inherent with the label. Out of nowhere, even as I was and am still getting to know each of them, I feel the same unconditional, overwhelming love I had for my own babies as I met and started to get to know them. I didn’t know what to expect as we welcomed these women into our family; I just never realized I could love other children the way I love my own. No one ever mentioned this to me, maybe it’s so obvious that no one needed to.
I pray for these new daughters just as I do my sons. And when I do, I visualize little hearts exploding around them like the emojis we all know from our texts, hoping they can feel the love Todd and I have for them across the miles. It’s ridiculous, I know, but I like the visual; it makes me smile wishing that it could be for real, kind of like the glitter and confetti that spilled out of our jr. high locker notes. We love hearing them with our sons on the other end of the phone on late Sunday nights and having them come for long weekend visits. We are constantly impressed with their accomplishments and learn so much from their perspectives: young and educated, fresh and forward-thinking. We love their blended personalities that are the perfect complements to their husbands; we couldn’t have arranged any better companions for them.
As far as what I’m to do with it all, it’s both complicated and straightforward: nothing much. Just as I constantly asked more experienced moms for advice when I was a young mom, I’ve started asking some of my younger friends what they like about their in-laws. Overall, the consensus is, “Don’t give advice and don’t talk about family members.” Fair enough.
I also ask my grandma friends what I’m supposed to be doing. Their responses make me laugh. I’ve never seen my competent, wise, accomplished, able, resourceful, and experienced friends look so uncertain. They shrug. They regrettably have nothing for me; they still aren’t sure how to do it themselves. Just like no one really talks about the realities of nursing, not many are forthcoming when it comes to parenting adult children. Most of my friends just shake their heads and admit it’s the hardest part of all parenting. But when pressed, they finally tell me to just love them. There’s nothing more to do. Easy enough. My only question then was how to love them so they know and feel it.
I heard a friend speak a few weeks back, and he answered this perfectly. He mentioned how our young kids need our time while our adult children need our acceptance. Even as I sort of intuitively felt something of that idea in the back of my mind, I wasn’t sure how to articulate it. Until he said it, I’d never heard it so succinctly, so clearly. It felt spot on.
I know I’ve always wanted my own in-laws to be proud of us and the family we’ve created. I’ve wanted them to be happy with the wife their son chose all those years ago. I’ve wanted them to be proud of the way we’ve raised their grandkids and lived our lives as a family. That’s all I’ve ever wanted from them. We can mostly work out things ourselves, we’ve figured out money, what jobs to do, where to move, how we want to parent, how to make our marriage work. There are books, friends, and a million online resources to help us with all that. But validation and acceptance, that’s something we long for from our parents as adults. Luckily I’ve only ever felt love and warm acceptance from both sets of parents.
So now as a parent myself, I long for these beautiful new daughters of ours to know how thankful we are to have them in our family. We know they have their families with their own parents, we get that. But we welcome what they bring to ours, their traditions, their personalities, their perspectives, their ways of making a life for their new family unit. We love hearing their opinions, how they see the world, what they hope for the future, and how they’ll do things in their own families. They are miles ahead of where we started, so wise and polished at such a young age. We marvel to ourselves all the time how lucky and grateful we are to have them in our family.
It’s only been a year or so that we’ve known these women. But how can they possibly know how much we already love them and how much joy they’ve added to our lives? It’s all the tiniest things. Her cute little accent and how English is still a little confounding for her and how patient she is as our son tries to learn Spanish and as she tries to figure out all the games he wants her to play. It’s the thoughtful way she knows exactly the right gifts to get us and how she makes her home so comfortable and warm and reflective of them. It’s their intellect and their strengths, the ways they express themselves, their laughs, the way they instantly became big sisters to our other kids, their work ethic and drive, their adventurous natures and willingness to try new things, their love for the outdoors and exploring, how they look at our sons, the dreams they have for the future, their mothering spirits, the way we can just tell they will be fabulous moms.
I don’t mean to gush, but it’s so similar to the enthusiasm I felt as a first-time mom where I wanted everyone to see my babies. It just feels exciting to me, these additional children coming to us all these years later, the rest of our family filling in. I’ve always been disappointed we couldn’t have more children, but I didn’t ever realize the fulfillment that daughters-in-law would bring. I’m still so new at this, admittedly clumsy and awkward, with so much to learn, but I’m hoping to eventually get the hang of it. Just love them. I guess I’m hoping they will someday realize how deeply we love them, how much they’ve added to our life just by being in it. But I don’t know that they will until they’re mothers-in-law themselves.
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