When I tell people that my daughter hasn’t spoken to me since a few weeks after her wedding in March 2021, they invariably ask: What did you do? Invariably, my response is: Why does it have to be something I’ve done? I’m sick of the What Did You Do question and its negative, judgmental, blamey connotations, so (now) I rarely tell anyone about the situation with my daughter unless I know them and trust them. Fortunately, I’m not married, and because I don’t tell people I’ve just met that I have a daughter, they assume that I don’t have children. I don’t correct them because it’s, well, easier.

What I did

But I’ve been pondering this question a lot lately. What did I do? A lot, as it turns out, although if you talk to my daughter, apparently I’m the worst person who ever walked the Earth. But be that as it may: I can’t change her opinion of me, so here they are — all the things I did. Well, as many as I can remember.

1. Left her father when I was three months’ pregnant with her because I couldn’t deal with his unreliability and drinking and gambling and lying. I had a hard time dealing with him as an adult and I didn’t want to put her through that. It wasn’t fair to her as a child — I didn’t want him coming and going and being disruptive, to both her and me. My position was (and still is): one stable parent raising the child alone is better than two who are dysfunctional together.

2. Breastfed her until she was a tad over 12 months because I was determined to give her the best start in life. I wanted her to have a strong immune system, and I knew breastfeeding was best for baby. She skipped a bottle, went straight to a cup. When it came to solids, I cooked all her food. Egg custard, pureed fruits and vegetables. You name it, I cooked it. Nutritious, delicious meals. I’m convinced because of this, she was never a fussy eater and didn’t develop food allergies. And she was rarely ill.

3. I knitted, crocheted and sewed her clothes right up until she was a toddler, not only because it saved me money but also because I enjoyed doing it. I’ve always been a crafter so this was not out of left-field. I didn’t make all of her clothes, but I knitted jumpers and crocheted hats and sewed winter trousers and summer dresses. I loved taking her out in my creations because she looked so damn cute and cared for.

4. Gave her a stable home to grow up in. My mother did not own her own home (women rarely did in the 1960s and 1970s) and as a consequence, we moved every few years as her marriages dissolved and we were forced to relocate. Until she married again. Rinse and repeat. I bought my unit, which I still live in, when my daughter was just about to start school. I am forever grateful that I made that decision because it has given me security.

5. Told her I loved her at every opportunity, and hugged her often because my own mother didn’t do that for me. When she was little I would say: I love you high as the sky and round the moon and back again. She loved it when I stroked her back too. Do the nice, mummy, she’d say. When she was older, I would yell out often: Love you! I’d hug her whenever she’d let me, which — as she got older — became less frequent because I was so embarrassing.

6. Found good, stable childcare for her because I had to provide for us and my mother was unreliable. My daughter spent the first few years at the University of Adelaide’s childcare because I was studying teaching there, and also with a lovely lady named Penny. She stayed with them both until she started school, mainly because kindergarten was so inflexible, and the education and care she was receiving was so good. When she was older (primary school) she went to a lady named Chrissie every other Friday night, and at other times when I needed flexible care. It was respite for me and allowed me to schedule time for me — this was important while I was dating The Italian (five years’ of my life).

7. Took her to the library and read to her every night. I wanted her to love books and learning as much as I did, and she was reading at an early age. I was always buying books for her. It didn’t stick though, and as soon as she was a teen she rarely read because it was “boring”. She left school at the end of Year 11, because she wasn’t interested in achieving academically.

8. Combed the nits out of her hair every Sunday afternoon until she started high school because she was a hugger and hugged her friends and nits love huggers more than anything. I was always stripping beds and hot-washing sheets and pillow cases and clothes and hats. One Sunday, I chopped all her hair off into a short bob because combing nits from long hair was metaphorically painful for both her an1d I. Thank God I didn’t get them, because who’d have combed them out of my hair?

9. Taught her to rollerblade and ride a bike. She’d ride her bike or rollerblade up and down my driveway, and when I took her to the park, which I did often even though parks bored me to tears back then. I didn’t hover or helicopter, and encouraged her to talk to other kids in the park. At the same time, I wanted her to know I was there for her and would support her if she needed me.

10. Didn’t have many boyfriends and was careful about who I introduced her to and invited home because I didn’t want a carousel of men coming and going — for her sake. She developed a close attachment to The Italian and his family, and was bereft when we broke up. She phoned him one evening after we ended our relationship, wanting to move in with him. She was 13 at the time. He told her he couldn’t help her and she had to stay with me.

11. Drove her to her job and picked her up on Thursday nights and Saturdays and Sundays. She decided she wanted to get a job at a very young age. I didn’t stop her; in fact, I encouraged her. It gave her her own money and taught her all about money management  and the benefits of a work ethic, which she has carried with her. She never asked me for money — until I got my inheritance.

12. Didn’t keep her from my extended family, even though I wanted to. I have a half sister who I don’t see, and my relationship with my mother was strained but I did not stop her seeing them. Maybe I should have because when push came to shove, my daughter was loyal to them, not me. She is, in fact, loyal to everyone in her life, but not to me.

13. Taught her to drive, although I didn’t want to because I took the position that one shouldn’t give driving lessons to someone one has given birth to. I came up with that philosophy when she was small, and reversed it when she turned 16 out of necessity. If I didn’t teach her to drive, who would? So I did. I’d make her drive the most difficult and challenging roads because I wanted her to be prepared for anything.

14. Cautioned her to stay away from drugs with the best speech ever: Stay away from drugs. They will kill you and if they don’t, I will. I gave you life and I can take it away. Was it over the top? Yes. Did it work? Also, yes.

15. Took her to a variety of extra-curricular activities including cricket, ballet, singing lessons, art lessons, viola lessons, ten pin bowling, gymnastics and basketball. Some of these activities were associated with her school, others weren’t because I wanted her world to be bigger than school, and for her to make friends outside the school bubble. She had swimming lessons, and we spent many a hot Saturday afternoon at the local pool, often with my sister and niece. I always made egg sandwiches and packed cordial and gave her money for icy poles, which she bought at the kiosk.

16. Took her on holiday as often as I could. When she was four, we went on a big road trip to Sydney with John (I was with him for a year or so and started dating when she was four) and we’d often go to stay in cabins in caravan parks with him, or camp at his parent’s block of land in the middle of nowhere. Sounds awful, but it was fun. We cooked on a campfire and slept under the stars. When we broke up, I took her on road trips myself — Milang, Renmark — and later to the Gold Coast, often with my sister and niece, so I could avoid Christmas with my family. The Italian came one year.

17. Tried to spend time with her on her terms, which meant going shopping because that was pretty much all she was interested in. When she was young though — before she was a tween or teen — I took her to the movies often, to Maccas or the park to play, to the pool or beach when it was hot, to Something on Saturday. These actitivites often involved my sister and my niece, and my daughter is still close to her cousin.

18. Gave her a passport for her 21st instead of a party, although she still had a party and I contributed to that party even though, from memory, I’m pretty sure I also paid for flight tickets to Hong Kong and Thailand. That party was lovely, until it wasn’t. That was the first time my daughter ever swore at me. Why? For the transgression of wanting to continue the celebrations with her and her friends. The mask came off and I was told in no uncertain terms that: I wasn’t fucking going.

19. Gave her simple rules to follow so she knew what behaviour was acceptable and what wasn’t. Talking back and being disrespectful. Not acceptable. Whining in shops. Not acceptable. Lying. Not acceptable, although this was something she did* constantly. Picking up after yourself and being generally helpful and kind. More of that, please. In bed at 7.30, light out at 8.00. That kind of thing, because routines and structure are important to kids.

20. Was tough but fair and consistent when it came to discipline. I rarely metered out physical punishment* because I remember my own mother belting me when I was a kid and how damaged I was (from the fear) from a psychological perspective. I used timeouts often. When I came back from Vietnam and saw her for the first time in three years at a dinner, out of nowhere, she said she grew up in a concentration camp. Well, hardly. How did she meet D if she wasn’t allowed out?

21. Was happy for her to keep seeing D (her now husband) at 16. I remember how fearful I was of having a boyfriend because of my mother, and didn’t want this for her. I wanted her to have boyfriends because it’s normal. I was relieved D was a nice boy, from such a nice family. They may have been nice to her, but they have not been allies of mine. I haven’t heard from any of them since the wedding, despite their assertion that “I was family”, although A did say to me on the day of my daughter’s wedding: I hope you don’t think we’ve taken her from you.

22. Impressed upon her that her decisions and choices had consequences, particularly as she became teen. I would say to her: You decide, but if it’s not a good decision, I’m the adult and I will step in. I worked out that her “currency” was her social life and all the parties she was invited to were displayed like a layer cake on the fridge. When she misbehaved, and after three warnings, I would tell her to pick the party she wasn’t going to. It might not have been “natural justice” but it was the best disciplinary tool I had.

23. When she asked me for money for the house she was building with D, I acquiesced but asked for a budget because I wasn’t going to just hand over $5000. She promised me she would pay it back but I had already decided to gift it to her. A few months later she asked me for more money, this time for her wedding. I said no because I (personally) think it’s a big, fat waste of money.

24. Gave her away at her wedding to D, although I think this was a manipulation on her part. She informed me, when it was clear that her relationship with D was serious and long-term, that S (D’s father) would give her away at the wedding. I said in no uncertain terms that S didn’t raise her and if that was her decision, I wouldn’t be attending. I guess the optics if your own mother doesn’t turn up at your wedding aren’t good, so she caved.

25. Wanted her to move out after her 21st because it was clear she had no respect (or empathy) for me. It was a battle, and she stayed up until 2017 because it suited me, in the end. For 12 months, from November 2016 until I brough Bella to Vietnam in September 2017, she looked after Bella in my unit, and I didn’t charge her rent. She just had to pay the utilities. It was only after I asked her to pay rent in 2017, or told her to get a flatmate and charge them rent, that she balked. She moved in with D and his family — rent free because they are Italian.

26. Encouraged her to forge her own path when it became clear she wasn’t interested in being academic. She left school at 16 because she’d won a hairdressing apprenticeship. That lasted a matter of weeks because she didn’t like how she was being treated by the boss (she is my daughter after all), so back to her supermarket job she went. She stayed there for a couple of years, then won a traineeship with the state government, which also lasted a couple of years. She did a nail technician’s course, but that didn’t go anywhere. In the end, she found her niche in real estate and property management, which came with a company car, and according to her “is living her best life”.

27. Tried to make her accountable and responsible. When she was 19, she spent Mother’s Day with D and his family. At the time, I expressed my disappointment saying: You have spent Mother’s Day with people who didn’t give birth to you or raise you. The next year, she took me out for brunch before spending the day with them. If I’d been paying attention, that was when I lost her. Or rather, she was seduced.

28. Pleaded for empathy. She took me out for my birthday in 2017 (when I was home for a month from Vietnam), she said: If I knew I was going to pay, I would have taken you somewhere cheaper. She wasn’t joking. When she was hitting me up for money for her wedding, I had just broken up with the covert narcissist and was trying to heal from that. She kept at me. When I was hospitalised in Hanoi for 10 days with a serious liver complaint, I heard from her once. When I got back from Vietnam, broken and broke, I pleaded for empathy. I was ignored, although she did go to the funeral and comfort my cousin, who had lost her partner to cancer. I got the Zoom link.

29. Emphasised that we were a team and that we had to help and support and care for each other. It didn’t work. Clearly.

What I didn’t do

And, for balance, here are some of the things I didn’t do:

1. Be the kind of mother she wanted. Maybe this is an inter-generational thing because my mother wasn’t the kind of mother I wanted, and I mothered my daughter the way that I wanted to be mothered. I told loved her and told her so. I gave her stability and security. She was embarrassed by me because I was different to other mothers. I wasn’t married. I had boyfriends. I wasn’t into shopping as a leisure activity. I treasured experiences, not things. It was as if she was ashamed of me, and this became more pronounced as she got older. She viewed me as a non-person. I also think she internalised my family’s opinion of me to some extent, and this, layered on top of her genetic predisposition, meant that our relationship was always doomed.

2. Was her friend. She had enough of those. What she needed was a mother: someone who would look out for her best interests and guide her along the path to adulthood. I remember telling her when she was a teen and was going out with her friends that in a group (what concentration camp?), it’s difficult to say no if everyone had decided to do something and if she heard a voice in her head telling her that something was wrong, it was mine and she should listen to it. It was there for a reason. If she wanted to get out of something, I would tell her to blame me: My mum will ground me if she finds out. She now blames me for everything.

3. Made her the centre of my universe because I knew, at some point, she would leave to create her own life and I didn’t want to be left with an empty-nest, wondering what to do with myself. So, while I supported her, I had my own interests: choir, writing, crafts, dancing and later, travel, running and photography. I sought to integrate her into my interests where there was room, a concert here, a marathon there, but she became less interested as she got older. That was fine with me, although I was disappointed that she showing up for me was considered a chore, although she was always happy to show up for D and his family…

4. Handed over my inheritance even though my sister gave money to my niece and because of this, and the fact that I was going to die at some point and it will all be hers anyway, my daughter thought she was entitled. This is known as inheritance impatience and is a sign of elder abuse (I wrote a paper about this). I also refused to spend $2000 on a dishwasher (wedding present) because who spends that much on an appliance? Yes, I offered but this was before I discovered how much she wanted me to spend. I’d just come back from Vietnam and it had cost me many thousands of dollars and I had no job, so that was a big, fat scoop of hell no.

5. Encouraged D to stay over, not because I cared about them having sexy times (I didn’t) but because my unit is small, and because we share the one toilet and bathroom, which is co-located. What I did care about was my sleep being disturbed because whenever D stayed over, he was frequently up and down to the toilet during the night. I think it was a bowel thing, but what it meant was that every time he used the toilet, I’d wake up. At the time, he lived with his parents in a large two-storey house, with three or four bedrooms, with multiple bathrooms and my daughter would stay there on weekends. I guess she wanted to even things up.

6. Go quietly. I found out I was going to be a grandmother via my niece’s Instagram in August 2022 — two days after my cat died. My granddaughter was born in November 2022 and (of course) I wanted to have a relationship with her. In Australian family law, grandparents don’t have automatic access in the case of parents withdrawing the relatinship; the court considers what is in the best interests of the child. Family Dispute Resolution is always the first step, and I did manage to (eventually) get her to mediation. She refused to meet face-to-face and it was done via phone. It was unsuccessful, mainly because the mediator was inept and my daughter was unwilling to concede anything other than she had an awful childhood and I was toxic, jealous of her and always played the victim. I can now get a certificate to take her to court…

What I’m doing now

After the wedding, when I didn’t cough up the money for the fancy dishwasher (But D’s parents bought us a $3000 fridge! was the protest), I spent 2021 shell-shocked. I knew I’d been discarded, and it was because she had no need for me. She has a new family now, and they were legally hers and made her feel special, whereas I made her feel accountable, which she didn’t want or like. In mediation, she called me “toxic” and “jealous” and said I “played the victim”. Fair enough. I can’t change her view of me, and further, I don’t even want to try.

I don’t know this  person. The gorgeous girl I gave birth to, the one I nurtured and cared for and protected is no longer. I miss her, that girl. I grieve for her and the relationship we had before D was in the picture. Not this woman, whom I don’t recognise. And while I’m sad, of course, that she doesn’t want anything to do with me, and that she is keeping my granddaughter from me as punishment^, I refuse to kowtow just to appease her because where would it end? If that means that I never see her again nor meet my granddaughter, or other grandchildren so be it. I was a happy, creative, curious and interesting person before I became a mother, and I am still that person. My life is full with people and experiences that are fulfilling and meaningful, people who like having me around.

And I what I do now is I don’t really tell anyone that I’m a mother.

*She does remember me putting chilli sauce on her tongue once when she was around eight and I did this because she just wouldn’t stop lying and nothing worked. I was at my wit’s end. Her father was a pathological liar…

^She is punishing me because she can’t control or manipulate me. 

About the #12Essays2024 Challenge

I haven’t given my blog much love or attention over the last couple of years. I wasn’t in the headspace to write, at least not the personal essays I’m known for. But in the words of George Costanza: I’m back, baby. I’ve made a commitment to write one essay a month in 2024 — a slimmed down version of the #26Essays2017 challenge I set for myself in the first year I was in Vietnam. I will be experimenting with structure and form, so you might see some weird stuff. Please stick with me. Some essays will be short, and others will be split into parts because they are long. Maybe I’ll end up publishing them into a collection. Who knows?

Image credit: bingngu93 from Pixabay