My mother was not much of a mother at all. She never discussed anything intimate or personal, or even mentioned it. She never told me funny stories about being pregnant. She didn't hug, and didn't come to my room in the night if I cried or got sick. I never once in my entire life went shopping with her, or went out to lunch. She didn't cook, not even oatmeal or eggs. She was always present, she wasn't drunk, she didn't hit us, but she was like a refrigerator: always there, but you sure don't hug or talk to your fridge. My dad did 99.9% of the parenting, from making every meal, to sitting on the porch steps and talking about boys or school or just life, to taking me shopping for my graduation dress and my wedding dress (my mother didn't participate in my wedding planning because I included two songs from movies and she said that was shameful in a church wedding. The songs were Tara's Theme from Gone With The Wind, played by a professional pianist as my processional, and Make Of Our Hearts One Heart from West Side Story). My dad taught me about puberty and went with me to buy my first necessities. He loved and comforted me and was honest.
Anyway, I made a lot of mistakes when my kids were younger. True, I didn't act like my mother at all. Instead, I spent too much time focusing on being the anti-my-mother. I didn't do things out of spontaneous love; instead I would ask myself "what would my mother do and how can I do the exact opposite?" It was all very calculated.
Then I learned a valuable lesson. That kind of anti-mothering wasn't the answer. It restricted me. It's like watching someone and trying to copy their exact movements, but you have to do it in reverse. You get all mixed up. They put their right arm in the air. You put your left arm up but you need to think "oh, that's their right arm, I raise my right arm" and your brain gets all fuggled.
So I took some time to ask myself what I needed that I didn't receive, and how I could provide that for my kids, from my heart, not from a sense of having to do it from some kind of weird reverse, mirror-image, forced actions. I just needed to talk to my kids, to be spontaneous, to be firm, to be stable, to help them feel secure, to be consistent, to be available. I tried to take my mother out of the equation, as she was dominating everything I was doing. I realized I had compassion, I wanted to be a mom, I had love for my kids and the willingness to dive in and do the tough part of parenting (the talks, the teaching, the sitting by the kid's bed when they're puking, the waiting up when they're on their way home). So it was when I stopped letting my mother dictate how I would respond to my kids and started listening to my own heart and brain that I realized I was what I hoped to be.
I still make mistakes. I'm not nominated for the Nobel prize of mothering (darn, because I could use the cash that comes with it!), and it still weighs on me sometimes. But I've come a long way.