Wednesday 20 February 2002

Motherly love

Hmmmm. Okay, time for a bit of summary/back-story here, which some of you may  already know, and a bit of saga. Maybe not up there with Wagner, but hey it ain't over til the fat lady sings.

I had this strange idea that mothers are supposed to be happy or affected in some good way when their daughter goes and gets married to the man of her dreams. In my case, because I'd had a pretty rough time of it growing up and just living, had had several disastrous relationships and maybe I was just a little depressed about being single at 33 and the prospect of being alone forever, I figured Isabel would be really happy for me when I found this wonderful guy. Nuh-uh. Sure the whole long-distance issue probably made it more unexpected and difficult to absorb, but still. I had tried to prepare her for the seriousness of the relationship prior to Sam's visit to Oz, by saying things like "we really like each other and he seems pretty serious" but all she said in reply to that was of the "oh don't be silly, it'll just be like what happened with X" variety, rather than asking questions or talking with me about it. When Sam and I *did* announce the engagement (11 May 2001) - and she had met him by then and must have realised we were pretty keen - she just about went into cardiac arrest, and didn't actually say anything about being happy for me. Like never, not even when she'd recovered from the shock.

Over the next couple of months (June through July 2001) which was all about packing up my life and getting ready to move to Ireland, Isabel kept trying to find excuses for me not to go so soon/at all, and questioning whether I was doing the right thing. I kept my cool and told her that yes it was the right thing, and anyway it is always the things you don't do in life you regret, and if I didn't take this chance/opportunity I would loathe my pathetic self forever. Anyway I left Oz at the end of July, arrived in Belfast and moved in with the divine Sam. We were just so happy to be together and merged so well as a team, it almost made me superstitious, that things were going so well. Then again, we communicate very well and openly, our entire "courtship" was based on verbal/textual communication, and very intense and intensive communication at that; we also keep any potential disagreements/debates logical (I say "potential" because it's better to catch a difficulty in its embryonic stages), and we are silly and laugh a lot, which helps immeasurably in retaining perspective and togetherness.

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In the latter quarter of 2001 then, Mum's behaviour was quite frankly weird; on phone calls she was restrained and uncomfortable and bossy all at once; sometimes she wouldn't call for weeks, and was snarky when she did call. Please note, I was in a strange country and in spite of wanting to be there, being very much in love and happy, a bit of maternal support would have been appreciated. Yes I had lovely brothers and superb friends, and it was always a Big Treat to make or take a phone call from them, but sometimes, well sometimes a girl just wants her Mummy. Particularly when they'd always been close and good company in the past.

So February 2002 rolls around, and we have The Wedding. .I'd made it clear to the whole family that I'd really appreciate it if they were there, to see me Get Married (seeing is believing, after all) but that if they didn't feel right about it, or couldn't afford it, or plain didn't want to, February not being the best time to take a holiday in the Northern Hemisphere, then I would completely understand. But no, they all wanted to come, my brothers were most insistent that they be there for their little sister, and the parents definitely happy to attend. So, yay - right?

Well ... when they finally turned up, Isabel was absolutely vile. She couldn't have been more loathsome if she'd tried. Hypercritical of everything we did/had done, whingeing about Belfast, moaning about the currency exchange yaddayadda. I really felt like telling her to fuck off home if she felt like that. Oh the best thing - when they arrived (after not seeing them for 6 months) I got huge hugs from the bros and Dad - Mum walked into our house and said "what a mess/you have serious storage problems/you must do this and this and that" and so on. Would have been funny if not so hurtful. Hi mum, nice to see you too, aren't you looking well.

She showed no interest whatsoever in what we'd planned for the wedding, didn't want to visit venues or the florist, didn't even want to see my dress - until I asked/insisted straight out. On the wedding day itself, she didn't once tell me I looked nice or make any positive remark about my appearance at all, or tell me that she was happy for me, or anything like that. Neither did Ernest, but that's typical of my father, he doesn't articulate or show his feelings even though he is a very sensitive man (over-sensitive, at times) so I chose to believe that it was a self-evident proof that he was indeed overwhelmingly proud and happy.  Mum, on the other hand, tends to externalise everything, so for her not to say anything positive on that day of all days, regardless of her intensely negative behaviour the entire period of their visit, hurt me terribly.  All I could do on the day was shut out those feelings. Believe me, though, that I'm still dealing, and it may take a very long time before I can recall my wedding day and not cry and laugh and cry all at the same time, because of my mother and how she came *that* close to ruining what's advertised as one of the "happiest moments in a woman's life".

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One of the happiest moments in a woman's life, huh? Well let me tell you, I could not care less about the wedding (and sure, my mother and her behaviour has added to my "Don't Give A Flying Fuck" Policy). The most wonderful, wondrous, joyous, unbelievably amazing moments in my entire life is now - being married to Sam, having his love and support, loving and supporting him, sharing this incredible gift of having found each other and now being together. That right there, is the happiest moment in this woman's life.

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