My country is one that is famed for the idea of the Mother goddess. In fact, a couple of weeks ago, there was a raging debate over whether to chant “Bharat Mata ki jai” or not. A debate into which I choose not to enter. What I do want to talk about is this elevation of mothers in general from the realm of flesh and blood to an almost inhuman, super-human Mother. You know what I’m talking about. Cue the violins. The mother- unselfish, always sacrificial and always loving. She naturally knows (almost magically) how to make her child feel better. She is perfect in every way, binding her children to her with unbreakable ties. There are poems written for her. Stories that laud her. She is above all else. No one will ever compare to her.

When I found out that I was pregnant with my first child, post the overwhelming “wow- there’s- living- person- inside- of-me” moment, I remember wondering if I were cut out to meet the “Mother” criteria. The fact that I was, and still am, petrified of babies didn’t help. I mean, babies cry when they see me. They sense my fear. I had no idea whatsoever what it took to keep a baby alive, much less rear him or her. I mean, I didn’t even know how to take care of my husband or my home (in my defence, I’d just been married for like a month). There were moments of real fear and self-doubt. Worse still, after giving birth for the first time, I had no tender magic bond with my baby. All those movies and books that made giving birth seem like an instant mother formula was such a lie. It took me at least two months to really bond with my babies in a meaningful way. Getting to know why the baby was crying. Deciphering the meaning of the facial expressions. Getting to know the person that my child is.  It took time. And all learning takes time.

If I hadn’t had people that were brought into my life to support me and tell me the truth about motherhood and essentially teach me how to be a mother, I may have put myself down as a third-rate Mum for not knowing how to be one naturally.

But now I know. I know there is no instant transformation. I know it’s a process. I know I don’t need to be perfect. I may make several mistakes but I’ll learn. And that’s totally fine. I know that it’s no white flag moment to ask other Mums for help or advice. I know that I don’t need to fit any mould. Yes, I am a mother. And I bring myself into the role and make it uniquely mine. I am a mother like no other. I bring my weaknesses and strengths into this great responsibility. I am a work in progress. I am nothing divine. But the Divine is working in me promising to bring what He began to completion. I am not super-human but I have access to super-human grace, if I will only reach out and take it.

I don’t want my children to ever think me some sort of martyr. Yes, I want to model right Christian behaviour. I want to model patience, love and kindness. Self-control (that’s a big one). But I don’t want them to think of this as something that is weirdly only a “mother” attribute. I want them to see these as something that they can and must also practise for themselves.

I don’t need my children to see me as perfect. Let them see the chinks in my armour. Let them see who I am honestly. But let them also see me striving to do the right thing. Let them also see me apologize quickly for being unjust. Let them see me face up to my wrongs. Let them see me fail. Let them see me succeed with the help of power not my own.

Most of all, I don’t want to bind my children to me with a feeling of guilty obligation. They are not my property. They are simply my responsibility to love, cherish, nurture and train up into young men and women who will fulfil the purpose for which they were created. And I must free them in order to do that.

I began learning to be a mother when I gave birth. Three children later, I’m still learning. And what with all the different phases that I need to go through with my munchkins, I’m not sure I’ll ever stop learning. I’m not the perfect mother and come to think of it, I don’t think there is such a thing as a perfect mother. She’s a myth. A myth that unfortunately hangs over the heads of countless women causing them to either feel not good enough or try to display “goddess” like behaviour that elevates them to a level no human being can ever honestly occupy.

So let’s just cut the myth out of our lives and break free of this great lie of the Divine Mother. She is not who I am trying to be. She is not who you need to be. She is not the goal. The goal is much higher. The goal is beyond the mere role of Motherhood. The goal is about being daily conformed into the image of Christ in every aspect of my life. To daily shed my mistakes and allow Him, the great refiner to purify me not so that I get the glory, oh no. The divinity is not mine. It’s all His. And the glory for anything that I end up becoming will always and ever be only His.