I love my kid. He is the center of my universe and sometimes I just want to ship him off to another planet.
I don’t know about most mothers but they say you know the meaning of true love only when you hold your baby for the first time. I felt no such thing. Maybe when a woman pushes out a baby from her vagina she is more relieved about the fact that the end of the world as she experience a while ago was over than the happiness of holding her new born. Or maybe some women are overwhelmed by the new life they created and they feel the instant surge of pure divine love. Whatever it maybe, the first was more true to my case.
New born babies are not supposed to be cute and I thought the same for my son. A red baby with peeling skin, squawking, puking, peeing and drinking milk all the time came into my life five years ago. I looked at him once and I didn’t feel that he was mine. After a few minutes I asked my mother to show him to me once again praying that at least this time round I feel the connection, but again I felt nothing.
As this little creature began to grow on an everyday basis I was fascinated at the changes it brought. The first spark of motherhood came when I first fed him. His hungry little mouth happily feeding on my bosom and I felt content; I have done something right after all.
My son, by the time was a few months old, became the cutest thing in the world (for me at least). His chubby cheeks, red lips drooling with a little saliva that makes you go aww, his plump little frame and his almost bald fair head, his gurgling and cooing sounds and the instant smile that appeared on his face every time he saw me; late night diaper changes, constant feeding, taking a bath with the doors open and making strange cooing sounds myself, made a mother out of me.
Now with him gradually growing up and the demands of our competitive society I have to make him perfect. But does he ever make it easy for me? No. Never. After a long hectic day at work, I come home to be greeted with his affectionate embrace and a bag of complaints from my maid about all the mischief he was up to that day. The more I try to straighten out his future the more crooked he gets. He would scream all day, play all day, goof around all day, and not listen to most of the things I ask of him. I saw my sweet little baby becoming more like Loki everyday and I felt drained.
Sometimes, just sometimes one wishes to come home to a clean house and sip a cup of coffee in silence, but that my dear friends will never be. Off late he has developed the habit of irritating me on purpose and it takes all my will power to stop my hand from whacking him hard. And pray some guests arrive; he will be at his horrible best. Peace in my house was as realizable as finding life on Mars.
I hated it all and I hated myself for hating it. I would go from loving to annoyed, transpose to fierce and finally self-reproach. I would beat myself up with torturing thoughts about being a bad mother. I love him, oh heaven knows I love him but most of the time I’m just annoyed with him. I seem to like him best when he is asleep and I can just kiss him and love him and marvel about how wonderful it would be if he was this angelic all day.
I was on the verge of a mental breakdown when my mom’s visit changed my perspective. She wisely acknowledged my predicament and soothed me with her pearls of wisdom. She bluntly disclosed that I was no different, nevertheless, the fact that I was so charged all the time was proof of the fact that I was healthy. Very soon one day, this kid of mine would grow up and these memories are all that would remain. I may not like it now but I would reminiscence and weep over it in no more than a few years from now. She lovingly looked into my eyes and said, “In you I see the only perfect thing I have done with my life and that comes with all the baggage of your past mayhem, sweetheart”. These prudent words of advice have given me insight and joy and made me realise the blessings received. Every new mom out there knows how hard it is but somehow we always sail through.
The wonders of being a mom is a road with many bumps but I am sure that I will somehow reach the finish line with a smile of victory and a dollop of gratification. There is after-all, a silver lining behind every dark cloud.
All hail the wonderful enduring mothers wearing my shoes! Amen!