To My Mum, and My Sons’ Other Mothers by Chloe Mills

Trigger warning: Mentions Domestic Violence, Suicide and Mental Health.

When I think about what it means to be a mother, I find myself coming back to my own mum. My mum is a single mother of three, she’s selfless to the detriment of herself, empathetic, independent, kind, and supportive - when I came out to her as gay at 27 after a six-year relationship with a man, during which I had two sons, her only concern was that it had taken me so long to realise, she’d ‘always known-.’ She’s always been a consistent, constant, strong force in my life, and even though it’s a cliché, I am me, because of her.

When I think of motherhood through this lens, the only lens I have, it is so striking to me that not one of these attributes has anything to do with birthing a child. More so than that, not one of these attributes has anything to do with even having a child, whether birthed, surrogate, adopted or otherwise. 

For the Indigenous Kraho children of Pedra Branca located in Brazil, they use a word “inxe” for both their biological mother and their mother’s sisters, or the women their mother considers as sisters. The Indigenous Kraho believe that a child should have more than one mother. It’s an intrinsic part of the way their children are raised. It’s so vital to them that in fact, there is no word for aunt in their native language. To the Kraho children and women, they are all mothers. 

In 2017 I wrote a piece called, ‘It takes a village… to raise a feminist’ at the time I was with my ex-partner and father of my children, and I noted how my boys had ‘come from’ a long line of strong women. I’m now a single mother and upon re-reading that original piece, I am taken aback at my use of the phrase ‘come from’ as if even back then before I knew what I know now, I saw that these women were such a vital and intrinsic part to my own and my children’s life. 

However, I have changed my opinion on one thing since writing It takes a village. That being that these women are not just strong women helping me raise feminist sons, they are strong women who are for my boys quite simply, other mothers. Helping is too simplistic a word to summarise what some of these women are to my children. They are to my sons what I am to my sons, and what my mother is to me, because they hold all of these attributes that I associate with what it takes to be not just a mother but a good one. 

I was thinking about how I could celebrate not just my own mum, but all the women in my life that are mothers this Mother’s Day and it suddenly occurred to me that I’ve never associated today with the women in my life who don’t have children of their own. The same women who hold all the same attributes as what it takes to be a good mother, and the ones I and my sons lean on for help, support and advice. The ones who despite not being biologically related to me or to my boys still play the same role I do in raising them, and when I say that I really mean it. Some of these women in my life put in the same amount of work with my sons that I do, at times even more so. Then there are the other women who are vital to our small family, that maybe we don’t see as much but are still there, no questions asked. Some of these women I’ve known for 20+ years, others I’ve known for less, but one thing that is always present in these relationships with them is that when push comes to shove, they show up. 

I’ve struggled over the past two years, so much so that for Mother’s Day in 2019, I ended up in the mental health ward.  I have survived an abusive relationship, a grueling court case to hold the man responsible accountable, a subsequent abusive relationship with my now ex-girlfriend and two suicide attempts. During all this I was unable and unfit to parent my sons, a shame that I still carry contrary to everyone telling me it was the right thing to do. I had to concede defeat and get the help I needed. The women around me at the time, and even now, stepped up in ways that I couldn’t have imagined. They were not just my carers, but my sons’ carers as well and not once have they complained about the amount of work and responsibility each one of them undertook. This is including my own mum, who as always, provided that stable foundation for me to lean on while I healed. These women in my life cooked, cleaned, moved in with me, helped financially, took my children to school, did their homework with them, bathed them, fed them, and tucked them in at night all while providing the emotional support I needed as well and not once did they think twice about doing so. 

I’ve always felt that I have taken more than I can ever give back from these women and saying thank you never feels like enough. Even so, when I do thank them, they retort with, ‘it’s just what you do for people you love.’ So as a writer, this Mother’s Day I wanted to do the one thing I know how to do well. Put down into words just how much they mean to me, how much they mean to those two little boys and try to convey just how much Mother’s Day is for them as well. Even if they choose to never have a child of their own, biological or otherwise because they hold the core trait that I and others always come back to when we think of what it takes to be a mother: selflessness, at times to the detriment of themselves. While I still don’t think that this is enough, I wanted to do something. So, this Mother’s Day is not for me, it is for them. It is for all these women in my life who have no children, and the ones that do, the ones that give up their free time to help me raise my sons and the ones who help me raise my sons alongside raising their own children as well. 

It is for Ariana, who moved in with me in Queensland leaving behind Western Australia to support me after I left the hospital, who sits silently with me on the bad days and who spends more time in parks with my children than I do. It is for Molly, who always shifts my perspective into positivity, whose home feels like mine and whose presence makes me calm and who will sit and explain in intricate detail, mundane things anyone else would fall asleep to with the kids. It is for Raelee, who will stay over even when she just wants her own bed so I won’t feel so alone, who has been my confidant and rock and who will laugh at all the boys’ jokes (and mine) even when she doesn’t think they are funny. It is for Taylor J, who brings out the brightest parts of me just by being around, who my kids love because she’s just as curious and as amazed by the world as they are. It is for Deena, who has taught me the importance of boundaries and self-preservation, who has been there for me day and night despite her grueling work schedule and who the boys look up to in both work ethic, kindness and creativity. It is for Chloe, who is doting and so attentive to her daughter, inspiring me to be a better mum and who points out how beautiful my sons are growing up to be, so I don’t always feel like I’m getting it wrong. It is for Cortez, who is steadfast in her loyalty and has a bond with my children that exceeds time or place. It is for Evelyn, who will always check up on me at the exact moment I need it without even knowing she is doing so, who always has her home open for me and the boys at a moment’s notice. It is for Tamara, who without hesitation has kept me and my boys safe in ways I can never fully explain or thank her for, who radiates warmth and softness to everyone around her. It is for Taylor N, who consistently has words of praise ready at any time of the day, no matter how long it’s been since we last spoke, who assures me that we are all blindly making our way through motherhood when I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing. It is for every single woman in my life who has been there in big, and in small ways, from day one or from day 600 and I want each and every one of them to know how much they mean to me and my sons. But, most importantly it is for my own mum, who is not only the best mum a person could ask for but equally the greatest grandma, whose unwavering love, support and consistency can never be repaid. If I am even a quarter of the woman and mother she is, I will feel like I have done enough. 

I want these women to know that what they have done and continue to do for me and the boys does not go unnoticed, even when they don’t notice it themselves and that I couldn’t have been the friend, mother, or person I am today without them. That I don’t want to consider what the alternative would have been if I didn’t have them, and that I hope I show the same support to them, as they have shown to me, and that I will try every day to do so. So Happy Mother’s Day to all of the mothers and other mothers out there, but especially to my own mum, and to all the women in my life who are my sons’ other mothers. It really does take a village, and I will thank each and every one of these women for the rest of my life, for showing up every day, to be a part of mine.

Chloe Louise Mills is a Meanjin-based writer. Chloe graduated QUT with a Bachelor of Creative and Professional Writing in 2018 and is continuing her research to raise awareness and breaking the stigma of Intimate Partner Violence (IPV). From 2018-2020, Chloe was the co-found and co-editor of Concresence literary zine and was shortlisted for Overland’s Single Mothers residency. Her writing has been published in the Within/Without These Walls anthology, Gurls Talk, the Your Zen Mama website, and more. Chloe’s ghostwriting has appeared in The Guardian, Vogue Australia, and Vogue Singapore. In 2021, Chloe collaborated with Gurl Talk for their hashtagMakeTheAsk campaign.

Follow Chloe on Instagram @clouisem_ and on Twitter @clmills11