Mother Hunger: How Adult Daughters Can Understand and Heal from Lost Nurturance, Protection, and Guidance

by Kelly McDaniel

For example, without early maternal nurturance, we grow up hungry for touch and belonging. Without early maternal protection, we are constantly anxious and afraid. Without maternal guidance, we lack an internal compass directing our choices. These are the symptoms of Mother Hunger.

Injury aptly describes Mother Hunger, because living with it hurts—all the time. It’s like grief—complicated grief that comes from carrying an unacknowledged, invisible burden all by yourself.

If for whatever reason your mother was not ready to be a mother, or if, like many, she was unaware of the concepts we will cover here, science suggests that you may carry the ambivalence, fear, or anger that she felt. Her responsiveness to your needs and her physical presence may have been inadequate. Although you have no clear memory of her early care, your body does. When essential elements of maternal care were absent, the result is an attachment injury that becomes the foundation of future thinking and feeling.

Daughters of compromised mothers cling to hope—hope that the mother they have will become the mother they need. Enduring hope creates a pathological fantasy that keeps women trapped in cycles of disappointment and grief. Choices feel more like compulsions. Decision-making is based on external pressures rather than internal values. Substitutes are needed.

Ambiguous loss is a term she coined to explain what happens when someone we love changes, as in the case of dementia, Alzheimer’s disease, or a traumatic brain injury. It occurs when psychological absence co-exists with physical presence—in other words, when a person is physically present but psychologically and emotionally absent.

Mother Hunger comes from unacknowledged damage to nurturance, protection, or guidance. Mothers who recognize their mistakes and make repairs keep bonding secure.

Enmeshment is an insidious form of neglect. It is the inverse of nurturance. As teenagers and adults, enmeshed daughters are confused by the anger and frustration they have toward their mothers, who seem so “nice.”

Lipton and Yehuda’s research has vast implications for understanding Mother Hunger. Even if your mother very much wanted to be able to nurture, protect, and guide you, her unhealed anxieties or dashed hopes may have left an imprint on your soul. You could be carrying sadness or anger that began with your mother or your grandmother. “When your grandmother was five months pregnant with your mother, the precursor cell of the egg you developed from was already present in your mother’s ovaries. This means before your mother was even born, your mother, your grandmother, and the earliest traces of you were all in the same body.”14

Here’s a Reiki practice to try at night when you get in bed or when you have time and space that feels safe.

Mothers who use their daughters for friendship not only misuse their power—they avoid growing up. They take a shortcut to adulthood. Rather than face their own insecurities and risk bonding with adult women (who might judge or reject them), these mothers bask in the easy proximity, vulnerability, and admiration of their daughters. Movies and literature often romanticize the idea of mother and daughter as best friends. To tell a story, Hollywood gives children adult-like personality traits. Terms like mini me or bestie in reference to a daughter hide the important role of a maternal guide. But the idea that mom and daughter could be best friends ignores the power imbalance between them. A daughter loves her mother but needs her differently than a friend. She needs her mother’s nurturance, protection, and guidance—a job description way beyond friendship.

If your mother put you in the role of her friend, you may have an unconscious belief that it is your job to make her happy or affirm her mothering, or that it’s up to you to give her life meaning.

If your parents put you in a position to choose sides, it’s very likely that you are living with a haunting sadness from being put in the middle of their insecurities. Part of your healing is letting go of this emotional burden that was never yours to carry.

Apology ache is a term I created for the longing that your mother would see how much she hurt you and say “I’m sorry,” the yearning for her to show remorse. You wait for an apology, hoping your pain will stop when she recognizes what she did wrong. But lots of mothers don’t acknowledge their hurtful behaviors or apologize for them. They aren’t sure how, or they feel too much shame, or they simply can’t empathize.

When a mother apologizes in a healthy, adult manner, her humility and emotional maturity model what a trustworthy person looks like. A trustworthy mother is aware of her power, recognizes when she causes harm, and repairs the damage.

Finding places to belong heals Mother Hunger.

The ongoing grief that is part of Mother Hunger is connected to what’s known as ambiguous loss. It’s difficult to face a problem without a promise of a quick, pain-free solution. The lack of tidy closure, however, is the nature of disenfranchised grief and ambiguous loss, not an indication of pathology.