Embracing Motherhood While Recovering From Childhood Trauma

Tears pooled and soaked my cotton sheets as I lay on my bed with clenched toes and tightly pressed palms. I was 6 but felt aged with grief and could only do what I knew at this point: pray to God. He was the only father I could ever really talk to. I had no voice. I could talk and sing, but my thoughts and feelings were never verbally allowed, not without consequence. This was the moment I would never forget, as God has kept His promise. I see and hear this child's voice inside my head almost daily. My conversation is as fresh now as it ever was.

During my childhood and well into my adolescence, I talked earnestly to God. He was my comfort and even though I could not see Him, or sometimes even feel His presence, I asked for His protection since I could never understand the “why” of the things that happened-to me or around me.

I often felt dirty and unlovable. The morning always showed itself to be the same without any positive change. And so I just remained faithful to my prayers, hoping that one day God would finally hear me and step in.

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The power of a child's mind is a true gift when turmoil strikes.

It can bring them to an imaginary state of rescue where they can hide from the blatant reality of their lives. Every child has their own perception of their past. Broken bones may heal, but the damage from every ongoing trauma builds up scars like mortar to brick. It lies between the events of our lives, layer by layer, reminding us that they are now a part of us. The pains of our past are a part of us, but they do not have to “become” us. Like veins, they travel through our being, but again, they are not our lifeline.

My need to nurture came early.

Although I had been abused in almost every way possible, my broken heart still fought for love and acceptance. As a mother of four children who are fully grown, I have felt my mothers face upon my own in my darkest times. It's frightening to me as I get older, noticing her permanent frown lines trying their best to surface onto my own aging face. She haunts me as I can see tiny pieces of her surface on any given day. I refuse to let this change me.

As many of us are triggered from our past, it is important to validate every feeling and then put it to bed. We can be the one to stop the cycle. When my youngest was 4, we moved our family 1,500 miles away. It was critical that my mother's demons stay far from my children. I did not want to repeat the past.

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My love for my children has never wavered.

I am sure my need to protect my long-awaited family harnessed all of my strength to do whatever was necessary. There was no room for pride. Preparation for parenthood was immediate. I went to counseling as an insurance because I didn't know what darkness may lie within. My mother was a narcissist who abandoned me many times, taunting me like a wretched stray dog waiting for any sort of love or affection. My prayer to God was that I would never “be” that parent.

How are we to know what lies ahead?

How are we to truly know if there is a hidden devil inside waiting to strike as past triggers arise? All I know is this: Love is a decision. Not everyone is meant to have children, nor should they have to. But for those of us who do, it is our responsibility to nurture our child within and forgive the past so that we can grow with our new family.

As I held my first child, I became filled with love that I can't explain. My need to be nurtured became a need and desire to nurture. Everything I had inside of me became a protector of this little bundle of Heaven's best.

My past did have small impacts on raising my kids.

I wouldn't let my children cry. As an infant, I was abandoned in my crib daily for about three months. I was left to cry, uncertain of any foreseen comfort. Any sound of discomfort from my babies had my full attention. I learned quickly to know each need and would be readily available to fulfill it. The sound of a child crying is unbearable for me. It causes anxiety and extreme panic. I feel powerless when it's not my child and I am unable to assist.

I now have eight small dogs who fill my need to nurture as my own children move on with their lives. I am still their mom, and although they have manifested into remarkable human beings, I can only say that the special prayer I made at the age of 6 truly guided my feet in my journey of motherhood.

As mothers, we must understand that these beautiful children are on loan to us until they reach adulthood.

It is our job to love and nurture them, educate and provide for them. The biggest responsibility in the world is to be a loving parent. We are often spread thin with work and expectations of others. Even the best mother will be oppressed by stress and our ever changing world. What we need to remember is that we are still human, and that we were once a child.

The child within needs to come out to be able to empathize with our own children. Being able to understand how fragile a young mind is means you are able to reconnect with your own past. You are their teacher. Children live what they learn. If you are lacking in any way, seek out help by adopting other positive influences in your life. Your children are the best of you, so give your best to them.

This essay includes an exclusive excerpt from the book "The Need to Nurture: Broken by Hearts of Steel, Rebuilt by Metal and Iron" by Laura Louise, who also goes by the name Katy Unruh. Published with permission.

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