Children, they take over your whole world. Literally. They are everywhere. Until you have given birth to a child, you wouldn't really know how it is possible to lose complete control over your adult life to these tiny little beings who are so dependent on you. You can't ever appreciate what it feels like to be up all night, rocking a colicky kid back to sleep.
Nope, it's not possible to understand how your heart-strings are wrapped around little fingers that can pull, push, shove you into directions you never thought you would go to. That a hug can mean so much and a tear so much more. That a child in a park, calling out "ma" can make you turn around and look ... even though you know damn well that your own little one is not there with you. Not only do you become more protective of your own but you become protective of other's kids too. You look out for the little beings, alert even when you are asleep. A tiny rustle and you'll awake in a heart beat, fully alert to any need that may be expressed.
That's what becoming a parent does to you. And that's why I don't like kids. They worm their way into your heart and then stay there for the rest of their lives. They'll grab hold of you the day they are born and hold your heart in their chubby hands till the day you die. No matter how strong you are, you will cry over the things that hurt your child. You will find new strength and weaknesses and your whole being will get redefined. You might not even recognize yourself. You will find the normally coherent, intelligent, articulate you, making incoherent cooing sounds and talking in incomprehensible undecipherable languages.
Don't fight the process... I have found that it's quite useless to fight the inevitable.
I liked myself just fine back then before I had my kid. My money was my own, my time was my own, I slept whenever I wanted and as long as I wanted and ate whatever I fancied. I wasn't worrying about balanced diet, micro-nutrient, growth spurts, development milestones. I made more money then I could spend and I had all the time in the world for everything that I wanted to do. My clothes were always clean, my hair was glossy and perfect, my house was picturesque and everything always remained where it was placed.
Let me be clear on something - I was never one of those women who felt that 2.5 kid and white picket fence was my destination in life. Nope. I dreamt of traveling down the amazon river, of living with a tribe of Mauri's in New Zealand or the Masai's in Kenya. I didn't dream of having kids and I certainly never liked them much. They are grubby, messy, loud little beings who always make their presence known and are usually hell-bent on getting what they want. I never wanted to sign up for having one of those little monsters that keep getting underfoot until you are so busy keeping yourself upright that you lose sight of everything else in life. I certainly didn't plan on having kids.
That is not until I thought I was in love with my ex-husband and found myself ecstatic to be having a baby with him. But wait... it didn't happen. Not the first time, not the 2nd or even the 4th time. He wasn't ready for the responsibility and I wasn't allowed to have control over my own fertility because birth control pills would make me fat, ruin my figure. So by the time my 5th pregnancy came around in as many years after marriage, I certainly wasn't rooting to have a kid. I wasn't looking forward to bearing the successor of the tribe I was married to and (back then had thought) would have to remain married to for the rest of my life.
But I had a child.
And he became my child.
Over the years, through all those sleepless nights, something happened. Something clicked and we were each others.
Now I am glad that I had my son. No matter how far apart we are. No matter how little we see of each other. We belong to each other, through the time and space continuum. We would forever belong to each other. He would always be my flesh & blood and I would always be his mom.
We might not always understand each other. It might take him decades to realize that I wasn't absent from his life by choice, that I didn't move out of his life because I treasured my own more. Someday when he has kids, I hope he'll understand and let his kids make the decisions that would be right for them, under those circumstances. I hope he'll understand that I love him so much that I would give my life for him. I hope he'll understand that loving him was my life. And giving in was as hard as draining every single drop of blood from myself.
And after that death, when the question of living, of carrying on came... I still thought of him. I am a warrior, I cannot give up, I cannot lose, I cannot lay down by the wayside and go to waste. What sort of example would that be to the little one whom I wish would have much more courage? How would that show him that life is for living? That every time life knocks you down, you just shake yourself up and get off your knees again? That life and living is much more than just passing days?
I am still searching, seeking meaning of a life that I am now bound to live for myself. Everyday I am free again, to design my own course, set my own destination. To journey to wherever my heart takes me, to achieve anything that I can dream of. But through out all these, I take him with me. I take the realization that no matter what.... we will always affect each others life. That it will never again be only me or only him, but forever 'us'.
- Shayan & Me
