Parenting Guru: My Mother's Day Wish -- To Be Around for My Daughter

Fancy at the fundraiser
Fancy at the fundraiser

There's a lot of hustle and bustle going on this week around Mother's Day. I'm racing to get cards and gifts for all the Moms in my life, planning visits with Grandmas and the like. Yet this morning I found myself focused on what I really want for Mother's Day:

I want to be around for my daughter for as many Mother's Days as possible. And I have to do some serious work to make this happen.

Here's why.

This year I turn 52. On the plus side, I don't smoke and only have an occasional social drink. I pay attention to nutrition when I shop and cook. Our kitchen is well stocked with fresh fruit and vegetables, whole grains and non-fat milk. For Mother's Day, my gift to myself was to plant a vegetable garden. I asked my husband for a lemon tree, not chocolates. I see my doctor regularly. These efforts count towards my good health karma tally, and I'll give myself credit for what I do right.

On the negative side, I have a range of health issues. I am a type 2 diabetic with high blood pressure and high cholesterol. I've been fighting weight challenges since age 10. Sleep apnea, foot pain and lower back issues, all exacerbated by weight, have been part of my reality. I have not worked hard enough or consistently enough to balance my sedentary profession with exercise. I enjoy cooking, baking, and dining as the wonderful things they are, but "moderation" is often a challenge for me. I recognize the varied ways I have been my own worst enemy.

Compounding things, there's our family history. My Mother's side of the family fell like bowling pins to cancer in varied forms. My Dad's side was a similar story with heart disease. My father had a major heart attack at 40, and died of cancer at 50. I was 23 at the time, and remember feeling I hardly had a chance to know my Dad in just 23 short years. He would not be there to see me through grad school, walk me down the aisle, or to be a grand-daddy. The age of my Father's death weighed heavily on me when my husband and I became parents in our late 40s.

We were late bloomers, marrying in our early 40s, trying unsuccessfully to have a child after that, and eventually adopting a beautiful baby girl at age 48. Being a mother was a life long dream for me; we were both ecstatic and felt blessed. I remember thinking from the minute we brought Maya home, "I want to be here for you for a long, long time."

Curiously - and wrongly, as it turned out - I remember thinking that weight loss would be a happy by-product of my new status as a Mom, what with all that 24/7 energy being expended. It seemed logical to conclude I would exercise more, eat less, and feel better.

That is so not what happened.

Instead, as I tackled balancing full-time motherhood and work, formal exercise time seemed even more elusive (and/or I was just too bloody tired to expend one more ounce of energy). Making things worse, I began eating more food on the run, at erratic hours, and purchasing more convenience foods. Existing issues and bad patterns now presented with new rationales - "I'm an exhausted working Mom. I deserve ice cream!"

The damning counter voice began sounding in my ears after doctor visit weigh-ins and blood work-ups showed all of my varied "numbers" were bad. I kept berating myself silently, "What are you doing?" Don't you want to be around to see Maya grow up?"

Looking at my daughter's sleeping face one night after a disappointing check-up, something clicked. I had to get serious about being here for her. I finally signed up for my diabetes course, meeting helpful teachers and other diabetics. Many good lessons came out of that. I began daily monitoring of my blood sugar levels, rethinking grocery lists, pursuing new cooking strategies and monitoring portion sizes. My husband generously did the new regimen with me and for awhile, we were both oh so good. I didn't' start formally exercising -- I was still resisting! -- but I lost a bit of weight and my diabetes numbers were slowing dropping. Baby steps, but in the right direction.

And then, a few months of positive progress were followed by a back slide. I can't even pinpoint why I "fell off" the wagon again, but I did. My blood sugar diary had missing entries for days, then weeks. Prior bad habits and patterns returned. With a heavy heart and plenty of shame, I returned to the diabetes counselor and beat her to the punch with a "here are all the ways I've been a lousy patient" speech. While itemizing my sins, I avoided the counselor's eyes and focused on my daughter, now 3, who sat nearby, coloring and humming, oblivious to Mommy's upset. All I could think was "What a crappy Mom I am." What I said was, "go ahead, read me the riot act, I deserve it."

Instead, the counselor spoke in a gentle voice, asking me about my life. How was I balancing everything these days? Was I ever taking time just for me? Was I rested? I tried not to laugh out loud. Balance? Time? Rest? Was she serious?

Before I knew it, I was crying quietly, admitting that I felt like I was in quicksand. No matter how hard I tried, I kept sinking farther and farther into problems and challenges. At work I was missing deadlines and bungling my project management efforts. At home things were getting away from me, and I had too many episodes of sitting at the computer trying to catch up while my daughter complained or played alone. It felt like the harder I tried, the more I was failing in both realms of my life. Now toss in my new sin of being a bad diabetes patient. My exercise program had not even begun. I skipped blood monitoring for days. And trust me; there were cookies in my pantry again!

Bless that diabetes counselor; she was like a life line. She gave me permission to stop beating myself up over being human. She stated the obvious -- "you're under too much stress" -- but emphasized I should respect just how much I was handling each day. She gave me encouragement to take it one day at a time and to ease into the changes I needed to make for the rest of my life. She reminded me that there would be good days and bad days. Mostly, she talked at length about how stress chips away at one's health as surely as missed exercise sessions and Friday night cheeseburgers.She wanted to know, were there any realistic ways I could think of to reduce the stresses in my life?

I knew where I had to start. This past January I finally made an incredibly difficult decision to leave a job I had held for 11 years, one that was a source of daily spikes on my stress and unhappiness meter. I gave myself permission -- with my husband's blessing -- to be a full-time Mom for a short period while exploring other creative/career options of interest.

This was more than a little radical for me. We're a fiscally conservative couple. I've never not worked or set my graduate degree/career completely aside like this. I'm very nervous about the financial implications and know I have to work full-time again soon enough. But right now, making these changes has lowered my stress levels considerably. I'm happier, too. I have time to be present the way I want to be in my daughter's life, including greater parent participation in her pre-school. I've taken a child's picture book writing course and drafted two manuscripts so far, enjoying every minute of this learning process. Friends have explored some creative product development ideas with me; the brainstorming alone put a smile on my face. I have reconnected with old friends, read a book (!) and got my hands gloriously dirty planting that vegetable garden.

And yes - stop the presses - I finally began a daily walking program. So far, so good.

Each morning, I make laps around the local track, plugging in the earphones and setting the pace with some "vintage rock." (That's what they call the music from my youth. Sigh.). Sometimes my knees creak and sometimes my feet hurt. I am embarrassed at how quickly I begin to pant, though I've begun adding laps to my routine. High school kids whiz by me on the track, looking youthful and fit, with their whole life ahead of them. I don't pine to be their age again, but I do covet their energy levels. Mostly, I just keep walking, one foot in front of the other, thinking "I want a whole life ahead of me, too."

Maya requests matching looks
Maya requests matching looks


This Mother's Day, I send this message to my beautiful daughter and husband. I love you both and promise you that I will get up each day -- no matter what happened the day before -- and keep trying to make sure I'm around for a long time. I want to share it all with both of you.


Is there one change, big or small, you want to make to live a longer, happier, healthier life? What would it take to begin, to begin again, or to keep on trying?