mama, mummy, mum, ma, mother?

Emma’s tender piece explores the emotions around what others call us as mothers

I first met Emma during Covid, when she joined my Postpartum Training (which I was running online at the time). That was the start of a friendship I’d really love to nurture more, because Emma has so many unique gifts—not least as a mother and a birthworker. She’s skilled in so many areas (check out Namamama) and is also an active voice in the birth world—definitely connect with her on Instagram!

On top of that, Emma is wonderfully creative in the visual arts and works in design—she’s actually the person behind my logo, which I still love to this day. I’ve wanted to share something from Emma since we first met, because she is just one of those special souls—full of empathy and compassion for everyone she meets. Her offerings come from a place of deep love, and I am delighted to shine a light on her beautiful work. Her children are very lucky to be able to to call her their mummy, mum, ma?

Ever noticed how your child calling you ‘Mum’ feels different from ‘Mummy’?

I find it a little strange to think of myself as a mother. Hard even to choose the correct noun that feels right on me ~ mama, mum, mummy, mother.  My children are older now, 11 and 8, and I used to be “mummy”.  That soft, gentle, unassuming word.  I think I felt like a mummy when they were little and perhaps I tried, subconsciously, to shape myself into what I thought that word meant; practical, dependable, mature, patient, I didn’t realise then it was enough to just be me.

I would have never introduced myself to others as a mummy though, that word was just for them, my children.  They were the only ones who got to feel that softness, that protection and the quiet generosity of my all-consuming love for them. Mummy allowed me a place to yield to the unrelenting needs of these small humans that I had co-created.  Feeling bone achingly tired, touched out, lost and yet being a mummy somehow validated that, or helped it to make sense.  When my children called mw mummy it was like a reminder of their dependence upon me, the simple babbling sound that said, I’m learning & finding my way.  I can remember when my son started to call me just “mum”, it took me by surprise actually, maybe even took my breath away. What had I done to change from being a mummy to a mum?  Had we stepped over some silent threshold that meant we were both outgrowing the limitations of that word? Did he still need me in the same way?

Mum doesn’t give me as much space to manoeuvre I feel.  I need some more syllables to account for the everything and more that I am holding as they grow up.  It fits better perhaps, but it doesn’t quite tell the whole story. It’s quick to say, almost finished before it’s begun. Mum is belted at me from one room of the house to another. It’s drawled out when accusations are flying through the air “but, muuuummmm!”.  Mum is more grown up, more definitive or direct. Mum feels a little more lonely somehow, my children still need me and depend on me of course, but we are stretching from each other, and mum seems to maybe allow them more space to be in their own identities, as the beautiful individuals that they are ~ perhaps that’s where the slight discomfort comes from?  Who am I when they are not there, helping to define me?

When I use the word mother I guess it’s on my own terms.  I get to choose this word & wear it proudly & confidently, almost like a badge of honour for everything I’ve been through in over a decade of parenting & finding myself there!  I am the M and the other, the little souls I will always carry along with me, who have helped me to remember that ultimately, I am Emma.  I had lost myself for a long time, I thought that having children would help me to become someone, who it was that I was meant to be in my life, to give me purpose & reason. But, instead it unravelled me whole.  It undid every single part of me, made me question everything and pushed me to relearn how to be with myself.  I’ve had to find an understanding & acceptance of being me, it’s been uncomfortable, confusing, relentless and I don’t think I’ve come to the end of that yet, perhaps I never will. Perhaps that’s not the point.

“Motherhood is the biggest gamble in the world. It is the glorious life force. It’s huge and scary - It’s an act of infinite optimism.” - Gilder Rayner