Skip to main content

On motherhood and...Empathy


When I was at university we had a professor who surprised everyone by saying that, if it were possible, he might like to have ‘The Pillowman’ banned. The play, which features a series of brilliant but brutal scenes and stories of abuse, had changed for him fundamentally as he grew older. He mentioned having a child as a turning point, a softening. The suggestion was that by becoming responsible for a tiny life, your view of the world could shift. Art which you had previously tolerated, even liked, could suddenly take on a new meaning, your tastes changing as your perspective shifted. At the time I didn’t fully understand what he meant – I think as a class we prided ourselves on our ability to handle quite shocking drama and subjects – but I am beginning to now.
It goes without saying that the first few days of motherhood are emotionally overwhelming, and that new mothers cry a lot. What I hadn’t really bargained on was the longer term effect it would have on how I saw the world, and particularly the children in it. I have had what feels like a huge shot of empathy mainlined into my system, and it doesn’t seem to be wearing off.
It started when I watched an episode of ‘How to Get Away with Murder’ when M was three weeks old. It featured a still birth, and watching it (unsurprisingly) made me cry my eyes out. So far, so obvious – it couldn’t really have been any less suitable. But in the weeks and months since then there doesn’t seem to have been any let up in the number of things on TV that I almost cannot watch, and several books I am loath to pick up (hello, Kate Atkinson). My friend J had a baby at around the same time I did, and the other day we had a brief online chat about how difficult we have both found watching ‘The Handmaid’s Tale’. By difficult, I mean emotional in an almost crushing sense. I know it is brutal TV, and it has been divisive in households across the land according to a recent article in Times 2, but in general I am pretty happy with brutal. I like unflinching storytelling, even when that includes violence and scenes which are difficult to watch. But not at the moment.
I think what is happening is kind of a version of the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon, a syndrome in which ‘a concept or thing you just found out about suddenly seems to crop up everywhere’, but the concept I have just found out about is some form of maternal empathy, and the thing is children who need help. And it doesn’t just apply to things I have been coming across now; sometimes when I’m falling asleep I find myself thinking about abused babies, both real (Baby P) and not real (the baby in Trainspotting) and it makes me feel worse than I’ve ever felt about anything in my life. It feels like by having and knowing my own baby, and being responsible from saving her from harm, I am starting to understand the utter perversion of a person who could be driven to inflict it instead.
This probably all seems trite at best, and naive at worst, but it is a genuine mental shift that has come with motherhood. I have been told by my own mother that it doesn’t last – obviously like any other person I will continue to find awful events and stories difficult, but I will not find them so potent as to make me feel my insides have turned to lead. I still really like ‘The Pillowman’, but I’m going to hold off reading / seeing it for a while.
And up my monthly donation to the NSPCC.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

On motherhood and...Boarding life

One of these days, someone will say to me "Remember that time you decided it was a good idea to take a residential job in a boarding school with a toddler and C working (more than) full time and then you nearly had a nervous breakdown?" and I will be able to smile wryly. At the moment, the ongoing catastrophe that has been my work/life balance since January 2018 is still very much too close for comfort, or any wry smiling. Flash back to June 2017, and the logic is pretty damn logical. I am about to return to work, with just the school summer holidays between me and a four-day-a-week teaching job, located 40 minutes from Brighton. I am asked whether I would be interested in a promotion - and it's a promotion that comes with accommodation on site. I LEAP at the chance. No mortgage, no commute, the chance to save - and of course the actual desire to learn more, the ambition to be more senior within the school, and the chance to develop my pastoral skill set which I had ...

On motherhood and...The Conspiracy of Silence

I have had the great privilege recently of knowing not one but two families in the early stages of raising twins. Obviously I can’t speak for them – I can’t even imagine the complexity of such a mammoth task – but one thing I do know, because they have told me, is that it is hard. One friend, when I saw her last week, told me she was deliriously happy but also felt she had no understanding of quite how tough it was going to be. Partly because nobody  really  told her what to expect. I was chatting to the parents of some friends about this (who have also raised twins) and we were thinking about the nature of advice, and how every new mother feels, somehow, like they didn’t really know what to expect and that they could have been better forewarned / forearmed. This is such a predominant theme among new parents, and I have heard variations on it (and said it myself) a zillion times. Why wasn’t I warned? How could I feel so unprepared? Why did I go in blind? Why wasn’t this ...

On motherhood and...Pressing the button

There is a button, introduced to me by my friend Simon, which I use more and more the deeper I get into maternity leave. It is not a real button, it’s a metaphorical one, but I still imagine it as big and red, and making a satisfying ‘thunk’ when activated. This is the charmingly-named ‘fuck it’ button, and you use it to keep yourself sane. For example… Scenario 1: The door bell rings. You pick the baby up. The baby suddenly does a poo of such velocity that it miraculously leaps from her nappy and down her leg, from whence it travels all down your boob and also your leg and, somehow, a bit of your hair. When to activate the button: You’re still going to have to answer the door, so you press the button and use the baby as a human shield to cover up both her and your own pooey state. This exacerbates the clean up operation no end, but at least you look clean when you open the door to the Yodel guy. Scenario 2: You and the baby go swimming, you are delighted with how much she lov...