Mercè Pujadas Cid: "My daughters have asked me: 'Have I disappointed you?' And that has hurt me"

I have always talked to my daughters about motherhood. I have been a mother who has not hidden her mistakes or weaknesses. I have not wanted them to see me as a heroine. It surprises me that they worry about the same things as my generation. Being able to have a professional career and being able to combine it with a desired and fully lived motherhood. Things haven't changed much.Are you worried about your future motherhood?

— Worry is not the word. I hope that if they are ever mothers, I can be there, by their side, to accompany them. I remember an interview I read some time ago where a midwife said: "When a child is born, the only one who asks about the mother is the mother." I will be one of those.

Do young women still feel the social obligation to be mothers?

— Obviously. When you are of fertile age and in a couple, children are expected. Perhaps what has changed a little is that people are now more discreet and don't ask as much. But the expectations are the same. Fortunately, little by little, women are starting to feel freer and to see motherhood as an option.

Mothers and fathers try to raise responsible and empathetic daughters and sons, but the price they pay for being so is feeling guilty when things don't go well enough.

— Guilt is contagious. We pass guilt from generation to generation. We carry a Catholic tradition where guilt and sin were at the center. And even though it seems like we have overcome all this, it is not true. Once it appears, it is very difficult to get rid of it.

You've talked about it, I suppose.

— Yes, sometimes my daughters have asked me: "Have I disappointed you?" And that hurts me. Because it means they feel guilty. What we have to do is make our decisions and be consistent. And try to set guilt aside. That's what I tell my daughters. But there are very intimate feelings, where no one but oneself can reach.

You have three daughters of very close ages. How did this affect their childhood?

— Leaving aside the logistical and practical things of daily life, such as going everywhere together, sharing friends and games, what has made them so close is that they have united them. They have the same memories and complicities. Just a few years ago they tell me things I didn't know, about mischief and codes that the three of them shared.

What possible negative aspects did this age proximity have?

— I remember that when I left the hospital, a nurse told me: "Now you will have the job of having three daughters and, afterwards, that of each one separately." At first I didn't understand what she meant, but in time I did. I have been a mother to feed, educate, play with, and dress all three. But I have also tried to be a mother separately for Georgina, for Carlota, and for Berta. They are individual people and also need their own space and to be understood on their own. Not as part of a group.

Viewed from a distance, what has been the most complicated stage?

— When they are young, physical exhaustion floods everything. But adolescence, without a doubt, was the stage that cost us the most. We linked all three of them together. And it was tough. But not just tough as parents, I was worried about seeing them suffer. Adolescents suffer a lot. They don't understand what's happening to them physically and mentally. And, sometimes, they don't want your help. They reject you. Humor and relativizing certain things were key to overcoming it.

Do you feel like telling me an anecdote?

— One day, around Christmas time, all three were in the dining room and wanted to do a craft. They were between 7 and 10 years old. I was setting the table and going in and out of the dining room. They were trying to open a pot of white paint and kept trying, now one, now the other. Finally, the pot opened and the paint spread all over the floor, the sofa, the cushions. I was preparing dinner and didn't realize it. They, with paper towels, tried to clean the paint and pretended that nothing had happened.

And you didn't realize?

— No. When we sat down at the table for dinner, I had white paint in my hair and on my arm. They held back their laughter as best they could. I didn't know anything about all this until a year ago.