I started off my journey as a mother with absolutely no confidence in heart. This is the most exigent venture I have ever been on and always will be. I knew from the beginning that I’d occasionally fail as a parent because while looking around, that was all I could observe from the experienced ones – they all have their bloopers to look back on and wail at.
Parenting is not an art anyone can master. If you ask me, it isn’t an art at all but a forever work-in-progress. A daunting endeavour wherein you deal with an unexploited person whose nature cannot be studied or judged until they learn to communicate in the way we understand.
Motherhood, the rearing of my tiny blob of happiness has completely transformed me into a person I thought I’d never become. From quitting the job with a broken heart to giving up on life’s even simplest pleasures (special thanks to mood swings for making such void so evident), there have been times parenting felt like the most major pain-in-the-rear on planet earth. More often than not, I resist, lose and bawl. Every time the hurly-burly of motherhood catalysed a bleak mood, I ask myself the same question “After all, you love him the most, don’t you?”
With all my heart, I do.
The tiniest fraction of a second that I sincerely reserve for such monotonous Q&A session with myself is a big time lifesaver in clutching my sanity. The answer not only reassures my purpose of life but also helps me see the innate beauty of it.
A major trace of baby D comes from Dr.H whose bygone childhood I finally get to see through the little one’s eyes. Now is the time I choose to laugh and play for the whole day and not fret about things that escape my routine. Guild the house with gold and embroider the walls with emeralds, they’d still lose the imperishable contentment a heap of toddler mess offers at home. The debris of toys, broken phones and baby-proofed staircases are nothing but signs of a wondrous existence. The joy of observing the baby coming out of its carapace of boundaries is to die for. The milestones of today may not matter as years pass by. For example, the climbing up. Would I jump in joy if he does the same after 5 years? May be not. Before it all contributes to a “normal lifestyle”, I wish to make time stand still so that I can dote on toddlerhood a little longer.
I realise it isn’t just my child that is growing up. Day after day, I evolve as well through blood, sweat and tears into a better individual than before. Given a chance, I’d still pick this venture over a zillion alternatives. There are unseen mountains we may cross, unheard tales we may live. It all seems too much in the future to matter. For now, we have unfurled eighteen chapters of purest bliss and that’s definitely something worth putting down in black and white. Here’s to 18 months of togetherness..!