I Love You, Mum

For as long as I can remember, I've always longed for my Mum's attention and physical love. But at a very young age, I developed the kind of thinking that she didn't have time for me. She was either far too busy at work, or she'd be too tired to go anywhere after a week's of hard work as a secretary. She never promised anything - any requests to go zoo or bird park or sentosa always solicited the reply, "We'll see."

As I grew older, I saw my parents fight on the average once a year, during spring cleaning. My Dad is a sentimentalist who values his possessions and old compositions and old school magazines, while my Mum was a "thrower" who throws away anything and everything deemed useless. I recall accounts when they inevitably ended up in fights during and after spring cleaning, which resulted in my Mum leaving home to stay at her sister's place. My Granny would then be so worried about their relationship and how I was to cope without my Mum's love that she would constantly feel unwell. At that time, we were not aware that she had Ischemic heart disease despite regular checkups, as coronary heart disease was the only known heart disease and she was one of the "pioneers" in this variety of heart disease. Being close to my Granny and empathising with how unwell and worried she felt at her age, I learnt to hate my Mum because I saw her as the one creating all these unhappiness in the family.

As I grew older in years, I do not recall many times when I could turn to my mother when I needed help. I was far far closer to my Dad than my Mum. Much as I refused to acknowledge it, I was extremely disappointed and bitter when I had to return to school to collect my PSLE results on my own without my parents. Similarly, I attended my secondary school orientation on my own, albeit in my friend's father's car, who was going to the same secondary school. There, I bought my own Sec 1 textbooks and uniform, thanks to my 2 friends' mothers who helped to decide which was the right size of uniform for me to buy. Seeing everyone accompanied by at least one parent while I was all alone, I had the first taste of being pushed into independence against my wishes. I really want to be pampered, to be a Mummy's / Daddy's girl for awhile longer, reluctant to grow up. By then, I had developed such an attitude aqagainst my Mum that I channeled all my energies towards blaming her, while excusing my Dad for I saw a man as a main breadwinner of the family. There and then I swore that when I had my own kids, I would be a stay-home Mom. (See, my attitude is so bad that I differentiate between "Mum" and "Mom", insisting that my kids use "Mom" when referring to me!)

My sis, being 11 years younger than me, was in a more fortunate situation. Financially our family was better off, so she had more material comforts than I had at her age. To be fair, Mum did buy me clothes and her taste was really good. But with my attitude towards her, I didn't feel grateful, I felt that was the least she owed me. I always feel that my parents loved my sister much more, my Dad would boast about what a genius she was while my Mum would make sure she was well taken care of at all times. The uncountable number of times I got viciously scolded for keeping my sis awake from her nap! Gosh, she was hyperactive and just wouldn't sleep, and despite the fact that I hid myself behind the sarong, she would gurgle in search of me. What was I supposed to do??! Thank God this fury did not extend beyond towards my Mum. I loved my sis dearly and this feeling was reciprocated at a very young age.

When sis was older and started school, anything that happens to her would require me to bail her out of mischief. Whenever the teachers asked to meet the parents on her bad behaviour (reading story books under the desk instead of paying attention in class), I would be the surrogate parent attending. When sis caught chicken pox, I was the one stuck at home for 2 weeks, taking care of her, cooking for her, applying calamine lotion for her, foregoing my precious holidays in NUS. yet it was my sis who received all the love while I got all the reprimands. I gave up. I swore the day I had the means to leave home I would. And I would not turn back. And I would not bother with my Mum anymore.

After becoming a mother, I thought my feelings towards my mother would turn for the better, being able to understand her position as a mother better, especially since I was a working mother. Instead, I saw more of her incompetence and defectiveness as a mother. Imagine her asking me how did I ever learnt how to bathe my infants, breastfeed them (my sis and I were not breastfed), clean their poo and put on diapers for them. And twins at that too. I could only shake my head in disbelief when in private while telling her that I learnt it all when I was caring for my sis when she was a baby. And my Mum never remembered all those times I got scolded for not caring for my sis to perfection.

It wasn't until my first Bible study with Joyce Ng and Ler that I finally let out all these deep-rooted emotions all at once. It was a terrible feeling, I never realised just how much anger and hatred and misgivings there was in me. We cried together, prayed together, learnt to forgive together. Then my bipolar attacked and I attempted suicide and was warded to the hospital. Subsequently I disappeared from church for almost 2 years.

When I finally decided to return to church and do my Bible study again, this time with Grace and Pauline, I discovered that without realising it, I had actually forgiven my Mum two years ago. Forgiving is not forgetting, and I still feel bitter sometimes, but generally I do not hate her anymore. But I still couldn't feel the closeness a daughter and mother should, the years lost between us were just too many to be caught up with so quickly.

It is mid-year examination time now. Most of you know that my kids are both ill with high fever and need to resit for their paper within 2 days' of the original paper. This morning Natalie was having fever but was still very alert, so I decided to send her to school to sit for her Math paper while Nathanial will wait for Frkiday to resit his. While waiting for Natalie in the canteen, I was reflecting on how I used to fall sick during my primary school exams too. And it suddenly dawned on me that on these occasions, it was my Mum who took half day's leave to send me to school and wait for me to complete my papers then take me home early. 4 papers in 1 SA, 8 papers in 2. Multiply by 6 years and minus off prelim when i was well for the first time, that makes 47 times of half-day leave, or 23.5 days' worth of annual leave. Yeah, my Mum did love me after all, it's just that her upbringing has not taught her how to show her love.

These days that I'm no longer working in my glamorous manager position but teach tuition from home, I have suffered a drastic paycut. We struggle to make ends meet, and we have complete spent all our savings due to my illness and the high medical cost to treat it. It is my Mum who helps us by giving us a sum of money monthly to tide us over, and when I was last warded for self mutilation and mania and was not teaching for a whole month, she actually gave us a lump sum of 3k. Besides, she always delivers to our doorstep expensive fish on the pretext of giving it to the kids. What are we to do financially without my Mum? This is her way of showing her love for me. Far from what we have been taught in the parenting classes and all the parenting books, but remember she never attended any parenting class nor read any parenting book. All she knows what to do is to replicate what her parents did for her, as well as what she would liked her parents to do for her but did not.

This realisation today has hit me real hard. After 38 years of thinking that I don't mean anything to my Mum, I suddenly realise how much she really loves me. Mum, I'm sorry I was never your idea of a good daughter and was always rebellious, and I sincerely apologise for the trespasses I have made over the years to make you angry. Mum, this is not easy, but I really love you.