Seriously, guys, I really didn’t mean to run away. I remember all my promises of updating weekly, biweekly, etc., etc. but because of extenuating circumstances, I had to go into hibernation. Let me tell you what those circumstances are.
Only two things can propel me to break a virtual promise.
- Bad wi-fi connection
- Bad hangover
Neither of which lasts for more than a week let alone more than a year.
So what did?
Yes, this little troublemaker trotting like a supremo.
So, yes. Motherhood. That’s what stopped me from keeping my promises.
That’s what forced me to take a nearly two-year-long break from blogging.
When I held the tiny tot for the first time in my arms exactly fourteen months ago, I basically felt nothing. I simply wanted to devour the pancakes my grandma so lovingly made that morning before I went into labour, and go to sleep. (I hadn’t the slightest idea that both would become a distant dream for months to come.)
But later, when they brought him back to me after dressing him up and swathing him in a warm, plush blanket; as he lay in the cradle beside my bed, barely moving, eyes closed, cheeks bulged out and pink, legs curled up to his stomach—he became the world to me. At that moment, I became a tigress who safeguards her cubs against all external forces no matter what.
Almost similar was my sister’s reaction, who camped up beside the cradle not removing her gaze from the baby even for a second. She refused to budge from the spot irrespective of the guests who vied to catch a glimpse of the baby.
My mother-in-law said that the little one looks just like me—mini-me.
My dad said that he got his stature (the doc was really surprised at how tall the baby turned out to be).
My mom said that he’s got my nose—perfectly pointed.
My husband envied that his son looks more like me than him.
My sister simply gawked at him with googly eyes. She forgot that I even existed.
What followed the birth was a series of events that tested my endurance mentally and physically. My devotion towards my baby vs. handling weddings (hello, wedding season! You chose just the right time to screw me up).
It was like a test for me. Would I emerge a winner or loser?
I think I became a little of both. I won as a mother but lost so much in the journey – my patience, sanity, temper . . .
A new mother, especially a breastfeeding mother had to go through so many hormonal imbalances—I mean she just went through the toughest battle. She had to literally tear her body to bring another human into the world. Yes, every woman does it. But no, not every woman’s journey is the same. We are not robots. We are individuals and we have our own individual conflicts. We can’t compare ourselves with everyone else in the world.
Imagine you are suffering from fever and I say “It’s okay, honey, don’t worry. People out there are suffering from cancer.” Isn’t that cruel?
Whatever I did for my baby, I did it with full conviction. Sleepless nights, profound hunger pangs, feeding marathons, growth spurts, multiple infections, excruciating pain, bleeding episodes—but nothing deterred me from providing my child with the liquid gold.
I was bombarded with bad advice—just give him formula, you don’t have enough which is why he spends so much time latched on, we did it with our kids so you must do too, don’t behave like a know-it-all . . .
I have had people trying to convince me that I had to introduce formula or cow milk in order to get them “used” so that they won’t reject it when I run out of breastmilk eventually.
It’s laughable really. The sheer ludicrousness of the logic.
Anyway, I’m so proud and happy that I didn’t let my guard down even for a second. I still fantasize about eight hours of sleep but nothing is worth more than my little bundle of joy.
He made me stronger and tougher, calmer and cooler . . . not to mention fatter and sloppier.
All the mums out there, you are doing an incredible job. Don’t let ANYONE make you think otherwise.
I would also like to say that you don’t have to sacrifice and dedicate your whole life to be a good parent. Find time for yourself. Do your thing. Pursue your hobbies, go hit the gym, take swimming classes, start sketching . . . start doing what you used to do once you get back to form. Don’t let motherhood pull you down. Don’t lose yourself in this journey.
Motherhood should be a comma rather than a full stop.
Until next week!