I’m not very good at confrontations. But when the buzz of ignorance hits my ears, my best defence is writing; and this one hit the bone.
I was on a social media site the other day, and someone brought up a question for their followers of who in your family tree had the most children, and in what space of time. Well, there’s lots of big families in my tree — even I’m from a big family. So I answered with my paternal Grandmother who was one of 14 children. But then as others answered too, the questioner started coming out with their own thoughts on large families, which were rather tactless and almost offensive. I shan’t mention those thoughts here — it’s hard enough to think about them. But it took me straight back to my childhood when there were those who thought rather stupid and offensive things, too.
I remember being at school and someone, who had learned that I was from a big family, said that our home must be dirty. I was very thankful to a friend who was with me, who spoke up saying:
‘I’ve been to their home, and it’s very clean.’
Then there was another occasion (quite funny this time) when I was told that,
‘My Dad says your Catholic.’
‘Umm, why?’
‘He says Catholic’s have big families, so you must be Catholic.’
She wouldn’t believe me when I said we weren’t. But none of these types of comment made me feel ashamed of coming from a big family. In fact, my love for my family grew as I was, and still am, very proud of the fact.
I also remember watching a history programme on TV about medieval women. The presenter raised a question to an expert (as having lots of children and losing them was quite a common thing) did these families grieve for their lost children, or did they become immune to it(!) If anyone has to ask that question, then they have distinct lack of empathy. Any mother and father would grieve for a loss, whether it was a miscarriage, a still-birth or as a baby later on — there is no difference.
And I think coming from a large family, for me it hits further in the heart — I can honestly say that love never ends, therefore grief is inevitable.
Then there are the questions like ‘how did she (the mother) cope?’ Well, she probably wondered that too, unless the family were wealthy, had a large house, servants and an expensive doctor. All of my ancestors were very working class, sometimes coming from a background of poverty. It was extremely hard work, but as my Mum would have said,
‘What was the choice? You coped no matter what.’
One very ignorant comment I have come across said that the mother must have been under a lot of pressure to produce a live child(!) Only if you were hard-hearted and were named, I don’t know… Henry the VIII! That type of pressure wasn’t really on the everyday women. Their main concern, and that of their husbands and families, was that the mother and child came through childbirth safely. Childbirth was a dangerous time for both mother and babe.
And lastly, (although this in not an exhaustive list) ‘she could have had an abortion.’ Seriously, no. That was more dangerous than giving birth. The methods of abortion ranged from poison to outright killing the child in the womb. The methods of that last one I shall leave to your imagination. Unless she was a desperate single mother (and she would have to be desperate) an abortion, no matter how it was done, was not an option.
I could go on about other misconceptions and ignorant thoughts, but I will say this: my parents worked damned hard to keep a roof over our heads, food on the table and clothes on our backs. Any parent, whether they had a few or lots of children, would do no less.
In conclusion, I’ll leave you with this thought: If you’re doing your family tree, be grateful for the big families, because without them, you may not be here.
This article was originally posted on Medium.
Copyright © 2023 Charlotte Clark
Charlotte Clark 