Cressida Bonas: ‘I was terrified I would lose my mother'

Telegraph

28-03-2025

When our mother, Mary-Gaye, was rushed to intensive care with pneumonia last year, my siblings and I feared we might lose her. I'm close to my mum and we speak most days, so the thought of a world without her was terrifying.
As my sister Isabella and I sat by her hospital bed, we realised how many chapters of her life remained untold. When she recovered a few months later, we committed to sitting with her at her home once a week, recording her memories and asking the questions we hadn't thought to ask until she became ill: What was it like growing up in England in the Forties and Fifties when food was rationed? What were her dreams when she was young? How did she raise us differently to how she was brought up? Through these conversations, she shared the wisdom she's gained over the years and the experiences that have shaped her.
What struck us most was hearing about her early years in post-war Buckinghamshire. My grandfather, Viscount Curzon, met my grandmother Grace when his naval ship, HMS Howe, docked in Durban, South Africa. She came to England and they had a long and happy marriage. In 1947, my mother was born, and her younger sister the following year. She grew up in an era where children were expected to be 'seen and not heard', and where women and girls were often treated as secondary. Defying societal norms, she rebelled at Heathfield – a school that, at the time, didn't encourage girls to go to university.
She married four times (first aged 22, to Esmond Cooper-Key) and had five children, including me, the youngest, when she was 44. Like many of us, Mum has made choices she's proud of and others she wishes had been different. She has also faced great tragedies, losing both her beloved sister and her eldest child.
Inspired by her memories, Isabella and I decided to create Lessons From Our Mothers, a podcast series where we ask our guests how maternal influences helped to determine who they have become. We explore the passed-down values; the most important lessons they've learnt; how they, as mothers, might have chosen to do things differently; and what they would say to their mothers now.
Reflecting on my own upbringing, I see how much I've absorbed from my mother; the traits subconsciously passed down through generations. I recognise in myself what I love in her: our shared sense of the ridiculous, laughing at ourselves, books, gardens, attempting (with little success) to be tidy, her strength of spirit, and the outlook that 'worse things have happened at sea'. I often try to recreate the wonder she brought to my childhood – her love of animals, stories and old songs. You're a Pink Toothbrush is sung at bath times in our house, teddies have their own voices, and hot chocolate is served up on ill days (she still believes it cures everything).
But there are things I've chosen to leave behind, too; decisions shaped by the different world we now inhabit with our children – I have a two-year-old, and another child on the way, while Isabella has a 10-year-old daughter and an eight-year-old son. Today, we question and analyse more. With a flood of (often overwhelming) advice on the internet and social media, we debate and discuss everything from screen time to schooling and sleep routines. We listen to our children more now; when we were young, decisions were simply made for us.
The discussions with our guests have been, at times, funny and often very moving. Mishal Husain, for example, shares how she learned to 'keep the show on the road' from her mother, who has always faced challenges head on. We also spoke with women whose mothers have died, including Kate Winslet, who longs for her Mum's secret recipe for the perfect roast potatoes, and Mary Berry, whose mother lived to 105.
Philosopher Alain de Botton also spoke of children's X-ray vision of their parents' flaws, while psychologist Dr Shefali Tsabary, shared her 'conscious parenting' theory, which helps parents build deep and meaningful connections with their children. We appreciate that fathers play vital roles, too, but these discussions are rooted in our own experience as mothers ourselves.
Motherhood has certainly given me a deeper understanding, and a sense of forgiveness, for the times my mum couldn't be there. For much of our childhood, she was a single mother of five and I often wonder how she managed to spread her love in so many directions. She used to call us her 'puppies in a basket'.
Beyond her, my sisters have also had a nurturing presence and played maternal roles, with Isabella, who's 10 years older than me, Georgiana, and our eldest sister, Pandora, who recently died, always protecting me, and each other – even in Pandora's final days. I saw them become mothers and I have been lucky enough to learn from their experiences.
My husband and I struggled to conceive, and our son is a product of IVF. Fortunately, after the successful transfer of another of our embryos, I am pregnant with our second child. Even though I remind myself how fortunate we are to have been able to have children, being a mum is the most challenging thing I've ever done. It is unpredictable, frightening and it tests me every day.
Recently, my two-year-old managed to get a toy horse's hoof lodged up his nose, resulting in a long evening in A&E (the nurse reassured us that they'd had to extract equally peculiar objects from more unfortunate places). How life has changed, I thought. Motherhood has brought with it the strange and the mundane, repetitive and, at times, boring routines that I never anticipated. It's deciding, yet again, whether my son will have pesto or tomato sauce on his pasta for tea. It's the toy cars and squashed rice cakes that have replaced the lip balms and books in my handbag. It's knowing all the words to the Tractor Ted songs, and it's hoping that one day he'll ask for a bedtime story that isn't Dragons Love Underpants.
Motherhood has somehow given me both more confidence while also leaving me, at times, frustrated and full of self-doubt. When I'm tired or impatient, I wonder if I'm doing it all wrong. Then come the moments of pure joy: When he slips his little hand into mine; when we dance to the radio; when he talks excitedly and nonsensically about diggers; when he leaps into my arms in the morning; when I look into his eyes and feel a love so deep it's hard to describe. I'm aware of how fleeting these days are, and I want to hold on to his innocence for as long as I can.
My mum's life, her courage and even her mistakes remind me that there's no such thing as a 'perfect' way to mother. We are all just doing the best we can for our children, based on our experiences and our intuition. Recording this series of conversations with my sister has shown me how the wisdom from one generation shapes the next; how we hold onto some lessons, let go of others, and create new ones for the future.