My suspicion that an untapped area exists in the motherās experience, related to unnamed feelings, inspired me to investigate maternal ambivalence, the coexistence of the motherās loving and hating feelings. This resulted in a fresh understanding of mothering and a reframing of the conventional perception of everyday mothering. I focus on the uncomfortable truth that momentary feelings of maternal hatred both exist and are a catalyst for the motherās experience of her love. Stories from film and personal experience are weaved together with the work of selected psychoanalytic, feminist and contemporary social thinkers to form a psychosocial framework which informs the language of maternal love that I am shaping. This language champions the development of a maternal voice in which the productive possibilities of the motherās prohibitive hating emotions can be freed despite restraints of a social and emotional nature. By advancing the seemingly contradictory notions that love and hate belong to the same register, as they both favour the value of fluidity, connection and transformation, I disrupt a fundamental belief about the position and usefulness of the motherās hating feelings. This notion of flow challenges notions of rigidity and disconnection, which are secured in a resistance to change and stifle maternal growth.
Naming maternal ambivalence
Maternal ambivalence, the motherās loving and feelings towards her child, is a pervasive and central, while hidden, part of mothering. The limited amount of work on the topic is most likely fuelled by the taboo nature associated with admissions of maternal feelings of hatred. A recognition of these hateful feelings, while generally momentary, provokes thoughts about how a mother learns to live with her complicated maternal experiences. Reflections about mothering inspire an understanding of the dynamic between the mother and her feelings of maternal ambivalence and invite the articulation of a language of maternal love. Two examples from personal observation demonstrate a motherās typical encounters with her feelings of maternal ambivalence:
The 2-year-old toddler, his newborn sister and his mother are at the park. The mother reminds her son to stay close by and not to not climb the slide while she changes her newbornās diaper. After sixty seconds, she turns around to check on him, and she cannot find him. She is seized with fear. She looks up and sees him at the top of the slide. She experiences overpowering love for him as her fear penetrates her being; this fear also contains hatred as she imagines him lying motionless on the ground after he falls from the top of the slide. This is maternal ambivalence.
The mother collects her intoxicated 16-year-old daughter from a party. The mother experiences total love and relief as her daughter is now safely with her. She also experiences hatred as her daughter has exposed herself to danger and has broken her promise that she would not try alcohol. The mother is both horrified and gripped by her experience of maternal ambivalence.
These mother-and-child exchanges illustrate the powerful impact of storytelling as a carrier of lived experience. I draw repeatedly on film and first-hand encounters to develop an insight into the motherās everyday reality and the feelings of love and hatred that her mothering inspires.
This book explores the emergence of maternal ambivalence in its social and psychic manifestation. A paucity in the examination of maternal ambivalence is redressed in Rozsika Parkerās work (2005) and her insistence that both loving and hating feelings are a pervasive and creative part of mothering. I extend Parkerās thinking in an investigation of the transformative impact of hatred within the dynamic of maternal love. These fleeting feelings of hatred generally unfold in the hiatus that exists between the motherās actual experience of her mothering and her expectations which are fuelled by her own inner illusions and her understanding of socially acceptable conduct which vary across society and time. Mothering is deeply impacted by these intense and myriad social expectations, which are embodied in the maternal ideal. This includes a perpetuation of secrecy surrounding the notion of maternal ambivalence which is maintained both by society and by the mothers themselves. Parkerās formative contribution to an understanding of maternal ambivalence has elicited an interest in this dialogue while inspiring other thinkers to maintain the conversation. Her narrative is continued through the work of maternal thinkers, including Joan Raphael-Leff and Barbara Almond and a number of contemporary writers.
My personal and professional experience informs my belief that encounters with feelings of maternal hatred are an essential and a potentially enriching aspect of maternal love. These feelings of hatred are generally momentary and are accompanied by an overlay of past internal and external experiences and invite maternal feelings including shock, astonishment, embarrassment, surprise, shame, remorse and confusion for the mother. If these feelings can be thought about and responded to rather than repressed, they can be a source of learning and transformation. An alternative discourse to the accepted maternal lived experience is proposed in this book which questions the traditional taboos around maternal ambivalence and mothering and invites a more truthful and open engagement with maternal struggle and a wider spectrum of feelings, including disturbing ones.
Maternal hatred
This book invites thoughts about an enigma that pervades the notion of hatred in the context of maternal ambivalence. A primal unconscious fear seems to exist in both the social and the maternal imagination, namely, that an acknowledgement of the motherās hating feelings will kill or destroy her child, or expose something monstrous about her true inner nature. This returns us to the difficulty, which Parker indicates, in granting the notion of hatred a place in which it can be explored rather than immediately expelled. This difficulty is aggravated by the complications that arise from clearly enunciating expressions of both maternal hatred and love. While the thought of maternal hatred may be abhorrent and heinous, it is not deadly, though the word hatred is imbued with extreme power. I suspect that in the social and personal imagination, notions of maternal hate and cruelty are conflated such that a psychic link is formed which fuses images of maternal hatred with deep pain and suffering being inflicted on the child. While both maternal hatred and cruelty are taboo subjects, I draw attention to a fundamental difference between them. Cruelty, defined as āthe state or quality of being cruelā (Macquarie Dictionary Online, 2020, June 18, 2020), connotes a fixed and unforgiving condition which characterises a person as being cruel, that is, one who is ādisposed to inflict suffering; indifferent to, or taking pleasure in, the pain or distress of anotherā (Macquarie Dictionary Online, 2020, June 18, 2020). This is discrepant from the meaning that I ascribe to maternal hating feelings which are secured in momentary and fluid emotions that hold the potential for maternal growth, reflection, learning and empathy, and as such are a catalyst for feelings of maternal love. This understanding of the dynamic of maternal hatred is fundamental to the language of maternal love that I am shaping.
I have noticed a curious and recurring phenomenon during the process of writing this book. Whereas a mention of maternal hating feelings seems to grip and stun people and trap them in moralising, society is more freely able, despite some reticence and judgement, to consider concepts such as maternal guilt, shame, depression, resentment, rage and anger. Although these expressions are synonymous to and often elicit hating feelings, they are less dangerous and can be named. While the term hatred is provocative and leads the discussion to an uncomfortable place, it equally has the agency to move supposed truths and to disrupt the fiercely guarded narratives that pervade the maternal discourse. A deliberation of the motherās feelings of hatred ushers in a conversation of a language of maternal love, which holds a compassion for and an understanding of these hating feelings, and grants them a place and a name.
These opinions about hatred are disrupted by David Mann, a psychoanalytic psychotherapist who has done clinical and academic work on love and hate to develop his argument. Mann makes a convincing argument that indifference, a static, paralysing emotion that defies movement and growth, rather than hatred, is the opposite of love. He defines indifference as āthe absence of connection, or even the absence of a wish for connectionā (2002 b, p. 45), and Max van Manen extends this by describing it as āthe refusal to dwell together ā¦ the failure to recognize the other human being in a genuine encounter or personal relationā. Mann considers that feelings of hatred elicit a passionate and fluid energy and have the capacity to fuel loving feelings.
Reflections about mothering and the place of maternal ambivalence
This book is grounded in the conviction that feelings of maternal ambivalence are not only to be expected but can be worked through to improve the experience of mothering. An investigation of the powerful, dynamic and shocking nature of maternal ambivalence as the mother struggles with her loving and hating feelings towards her child unfolds. A maternal perspective is used to substantiate a thesis around mothering which explores the notion of maternal ambivalence and the possibilities of maternal hatred as a transformative catalyst for maternal love. Although expressions of feelings of maternal ambivalence are predominantly taboo, they are also a pervasive part of the motherās everyday interaction with her child and are sustained over her maternal life span in varying forms. Although these feelings are usually experienced by the mother as a disturbing and distressing aspect of her mothering and are often dismissed as a shameful aberration, they warrant a more profound exploration. This book upholds the relevance of these dark and troublesome feelings to an understanding of the lived maternal experience.
I draw on the thinking of Thomas Moore in his book Care of the Soul (1994) and his assertion that āAll mothering, whether in family or individual, is made up of both affectionate caring and bitter emotional painā (Moore, 1994, p. 43) to advance an understanding of the maternal experience. Moore expresses a particular interest in the value of honouring symptoms. The definition of honour is āgreat respect or esteemā (Concise Oxford English Dictionary, 2011), and a symptom is āa sign or indication of somethingā (Macquarie Dictionary Online, June 18, 2020) which in this context I use to apply to feelings that the mother experiences about her mothering. My understanding of Mooreās reasoning is that he is emphasising the importance of being attentive to and observing maternal feelings, such as despair and hopelessness. There is a focus on being curious and heeding feelings, rather than judging or dismissing them, in order to comprehend what is being revealed in the suffering (Moore, 1994, p. 10). This fosters an approach which upholds a compassion for and a mindfulness about what the motherās actions may reveal about her underlying maternal feelings. As such it provides an opportunity to reveal an understanding of the mother and her lived maternal experience. These feelings as carriers of maternal reflection, understanding and learning are sources of maternal transformation and wisdom.
This study of mothering and maternal ambivalence uses a psychoanalytic framework sourced on the work of three notable thinkers: Melanie Klein, D. W. Winnicott, and W. R. Bion. The hiatus that exists between maternal reality and expectations and its impact on mothering is continually revisited. An understanding of the mother and her feelings of hatred and love develop from advancing an insight about the motherās lived experience. This unfolds as both a site of analysis and a point of identification through which an embodied expression of mothering can develop.
I do not explore the impact of the continuing development of new forms of technology, such as the social media platforms of Facebook and Instagram on mothering, though there is little doubt that it deeply affects the contemporary maternal experience. While the advancement of such technology allows mothers to be more connected, it can also intensify difficulties, as it often invites an unchecked gush of personal feelings which are left unprocessed. This can fuel feelings of maternal inadequacy, loneliness, self-hatred and recrimination for the mother who may feel alienated and alone.
My own anecdotal experience reveals that many people do not understand the meaning of the term maternal ambivalence. When I attempt to explain my work, the response is passionate, not neutral. Those who are aghast at my proposition become overwhelmed and are unable to tolerate any reflection about maternal hatred. Indeed, they may deny their motherās feelings of ambivalence or moralise about the topic. Others profess interest in reading my work and learning more.
On a personal note, my life has been marked by the birth of three children in three different decades of my lifeāmy twenties, thirties, and forties. This time span and the different relationships that I have with each of my children have prompted an interest in the diversity of feelings that each new mothering experience brings. With hindsight, my first two mothering experiences with my sons held latent feelings of ambivalence that I now understand were too socially and psychologically dangerous for me to contemplate. My experience with my daughter has been different. Her teenage years corresponded with the writing of a doctoral thesis on maternal ambivalence which released a new understanding for me and enabled me to engage with, rather than suppress, my hateful feelings about mothering. The rules of engagement have altered.
My work as a psychotherapist has indicated to me that intense and conflictual maternal feelings are continually present in the motherās active and unconscious experiences, and her relations to them are often ambivalent. During a mother-and-infant group that I conducted in 2010, I observed an unease and discomfort in the new mothers, which seemed to arise from unrelenting social pressure and an inability to engage with what I understood to be conflicted mothering experiences. There was also joy and love in their mothering, but these mothers were unable to contemplate, much less articulate, the ambivalence of their experiences.
These personal and professional experiences coincided with my interest in cinemaāa term which I use interchangeably with film in this bookāas a storytelling medium and as an expression of lived experience. The confluence of these dynamics offered ways for me to explore the maternal. The relationship between the maternal and cinema came together for me as a Jewish woman when I viewed Sophieās Choice (1982) in 1983. The pivotal scene was the moment when Sophie, a young Polish woman, flanked by her two children, is interrogated by a Nazi officer about whether she is Jewish or Polish. He sneers at her contemptuously while forcing her to choose between the life of her young son or daughter. When she refuses to choose, the officer threatens to sentence both children to death, and Sophie cries to him to take her baby. As the little girl is taken away screaming, Sophieās shattering occurs. At that moment, a perpetual link between cinema and the maternal was forged for me.
The feelings incited by the terror of that scene have continued to haunt me. On one level, there is my identification with a young mother at the hands of a Nazi soldier, which is a central part of my historical narrative as a Jewish girl growing up in the Holocaust-rooted Jewish community of Sydney, Australia, in the 1960s and 1970s. This was amplified by my status as a new mother of a 3-year-old son and the realisation of the responsibilities and the love that this entailed. I experienced a collision of many feelings. I was impacted by both the burden and power that mothering requiresāthe desire to love and protect oneās child, together with the vulnerability and mutual dependency that is demanded by that love. After much reflection, which was incited by the viewing of the film, it became clear to me that maternal love presents a conundrum. It necessitates a fundamentally hateful aspect, as the mother is a hostage to her love for her child. At that time, in 1983, I only had one child; reflecting on this now, I realise that the scene may have provoked a latent fear related to having another child. I believe I registered an unconscious danger in having to choose. A prolonged period of unexplained infertility followed.
The moment of Sophieās shattering marks a recognition about what being a mother means for me. The horrific scene irredeemably fused the well-being of the mother and her child in my mind and vanquished the notion of psychic maternal freedom as it became startlingly evident that the mother is eternally bound to her child and altered by motherhood. This prompted a deep curiosity about the mysterious and enduring power of maternal love which drives the mother despite many obstacles.
While the fragmentation that Sophie experienced at the hands of the Nazi guard has captured my imagination and disturbed me, the use of the word choice warrants investigation. Sophieās supposed choice occurs in the context of an extremely brutal and cruel Nazi regime, which is irreconcilable with the acceptable tenets of modern civilised society, and as such poses questions about whether choice actually existed for Sophie. Be that as it may, the notion of choice resonates closely with the motherās everyday experience and has stirred my interest in the bewildering and insurmountable choices that confront the mother daily and affect her being. These choices are generated by overflowing feelings of love together with other troublesome emotions such as shame, guilt, blame, powerlessness, frustration, loss, anxiety and maternal hatred.
The memories of Sophieās torment prompted a protracted period of emotional unrest for me as I ruminated about and absorbed the shock and horror of her terror and impossible choice. This tapped my own fears of having to manage such a dilemma as the scene continued to destabilise and haunt me. I avoided viewing the film again for many years because it was an acute reminder of the futility of Sophieās choice, which was destined to mark her emotional death together with a primal ambivalence, as she would hold deep feel...