The Joy of Losing Liberties

Hey, if you think my new status of motherhood is inspiring all posts on birth and babies, that’s not true. However, this one is surely the result of my current emotion. All mommies will agree that the feeling of caressing your baby, cocooned against you surpasses all known joys. Every ounce of my pain and discomfort seems worthwhile when his petite hands come around me. These days not just mothers, even to-be-fathers talk to their fetals, it is not surprising then that we chatter away endlessly with our new borns . God alone knows what goes on in their tiny minds and what they make of the adult gibbering. But I know what goes on in my mind; I want my five months oldie to respond to my every uttered syllable.

It is beautiful to see the little one gradually beginning to react with his smiles, laughter and rhythmic sounds. Of course this is only one side of the response, he also shrieks, shouts and howls. It is all part of the growing up game. This increased intelligence with advancing months also means that he now recognizes faces, surroundings and voices. And you know what comes next… he recognizes me, mommy. “I feel elated” will be an understatement. Though he is extremely comfortable and playful with other family members, he searches for my face and longs for my arms after a while. Trust me, the first time he out-stretched his arms to come to me, I had an air of pride all around me. Finally, I was the chosen one. Probably this is their way to make up to mommies for changing their nappies through the night.

Well, there’s a slight whammy in being the chosen one. As much as I may regale about his bonding with me, it also comes to mean that now my absence does not go unnoticed by him. In the consequence, my restaurant visits are rushed apart from being seldom. Before ordering for a dessert, I need to check up at home if he is still in his happy-go-lucky mode or the tantrum state has set in. While shopping, the first thing that appears decent to me, I pick up. Can’t take the risk of rummaging through the store and modelling in the trial room while he rises from his siesta looking for his mommy dearest. Did you say movies in theatre? Ah! that option has been deleted from my entertainment itinerary since the little angel descended in my lap. A Bollywood flick barely reaches its climax in three hours while in the same three hours my baby feels hungry atleast twice, pees four times and poops atleast once. Phew! No question of being sane and sober after this schedule.

All said and done, the privilege and joy of being The Mommy is much greater than the whammy of losing the liberties. No experience of dining, shopping or movie going comes even close to the experience of watching your baby laugh in response to you. Long Live the Mommies… both- my mommy and my baby’s mommy.

...And Joy found Me

I gazed at the path so wide,
But it narrowed to an endless wait.

Words were parched yet feelings flooded,
Drops like dew came rolling down.

Candles melted, flickers faded;
Even shadows didn’t chase behind.

Lyrics too, of the poet died…
Scribbles remained on the surface white.

Heart ached and mind reasoned,
But my Soul knew its way out.

Hidden beneath the frame of bones,
Lied a treasure precious so.

Joys boundless and hopes bright,
Key was within…I unlocked the door.

The Question of Birth

“A child gives birth to a mother”, read a striking mural in Mumbai that set me thinking. It is a beautiful statement of profound sensitivity yet biological contradiction. And the depth of the contradiction struck me. A woman gives birth to a child but it is the child who gives birth to a mother. The ability to bring forth life is the most sacred privilege of a woman. However, the pain undergone in this creation is also one of the greatest known. Nevertheless, the kindling of the spirit of motherhood and its experience is the justice of the child.

Innumerable paeans and prose have captured the glory of a mother. Yet ever wondered what makes her so strong, so giving and so forgiving? Are these qualities innate in a woman? Yes, but only to a small extent. There is an extreme emotional transition at the birth of a child. This new surge of emotions is the result of conception of a new relationship and the consequent hormonal changes. The unremitting waves of love, incessant warmth of care and the spirit of nurturing define a mother. The little angel cocooned inside her is both the benefactor and the beneficiary of these feelings. The presence of this well of love in a mother is not a rule but usually the norm.

Yet, a conundrum comes to mind, is a loving mother also an equally loving person? Does the personification of sacrifice and unconditional love retain itself in other relationships also? We know the answer to this is not affirmative, or else we would have Goddesses all around. A mother’s love is centered most protectively around her own child. She smilingly sleeps in the wetness of her child, happily gives her share of the bread to him and wakes up readily at the slightest moan of her baby. Her love, if not confined, is concentrated on her own offspring.

A child is biologically his parents’ extension. Whether born of love or lust, he is physically a part of the mother, which adds immensely to the mother-child bonding. Does it imply that a mother’s love is evoked for the fact that the child is her creation? It is not totally a baseless assumption. A writer falls in love with his characters, an artist falls in love with his canvas, and a musician falls in love with his notes. Similarly, it is not unthinkable that a mother falls in love with her own ‘created’ child, who unlike other creations is rather alive and kicking, and mirror of her aspirations.

Another facet to this love is, does an adopted child also give birth to a similar mother? When a woman is unable to conceive a child that she so desires, a growing anguish and sadness engulfs her. The grief accentuates looking at other parents blissfully involved with their kids. In such times, the adopted child is then lavished with all the pent up affection and mollycoddled even more so, for he fills the noiseless void in his parents’ lives.

However, what happens when you have your own child and an adopted orphan as well? Though this practice is quite uncommon, it is catching up with celebrities. Nevertheless, it is of interest to ponder over the implications of such hypothetical families over a broader and general spectrum. This is the iron test of motherhood. Is a mother’s heart large enough to look beyond her own progeny? It is almost effortless for a mother to love and forgive her child but can she show similar feelings of effortless love for the other child as well. Why have we most often than not presented a stepmother in, even if flimsy, but a garb of wickedness. Yes, there is certainly an exaggeration in fiction, but fiction is also inspired by reality. A stepmother is also a loving mother but does the stepchild find the same place in her heart as her own child?

The question is open ended without any conclusion for it will be unjust to be judgmental about such a sensitive emotion. Motherhood is a very different avatar of the same woman. A child gives birth to a new set of emotions and feelings. Every mother loves his child irrespective of his physical and mental abilities or disabilities. However, it is for every mother and every woman to see if the gifted experience of motherhood can enrich her with even more love to spread beyond the question of birth.