I am not exactly a ” One day celebration” person, for me each living moment is filled with love and gratitude for those who are precious to me but then I realized that under the pressures of daily life, our own baggage of worries, emotions, work we tend to forget to appreciate those who love us unconditionally. Mother’s Day became special to me since then.
I have written a lot about my mother who is now 79, a graceful woman, full of life, courage and inner strength, surrounded by her teenage grandchildren. [ Links ]
Amma gave me my identity, roots and the wings to fly. I outgrew her lap but never her love.
I wondered How SHE felt being a mother and that triggered off this special post on Mother’s Day.
” Amma, How did you feel being a mother?” , I asked.
She was amused. She had never actually thought about it and could not bring herself to put a life time of emotions, challenges and rewards into just a few words. A first person account required looking within honestly and it sure was a difficult task as none of us wanted a mushy post.
In few lines she let me in into the depths of her heart. It is the best gift a mother can give to her daughter.
It is interesting and a little disturbing to look back to one’s youth and the first flush of motherhood. On hindsight, a number of feelings and actions, responses and reactions seem sentimental, immature, thoughtless – or at least not well thought out – and also, to one’s surprise and embarrassment, neurotic!
That first wonderful, lump-in-the-throat, knot-in-the-stomach sensation when looking at and touching the smooth glowing cheek or the thin long delicate fingers is incomparable. Those hesitant first steps, the lisping or jumbled use of words brought out immeasurable joy and pride in the baby’s achievements.
At each little mastery of an action or each small bruise or hurt, the child would run into one’s arms or cry out ‘Mamma’. One laughed and wept along with it and was totally engrossed and involved in the child’s mischief, pranks and all the pains of growing up.
As a mother one cared and shared, and thought that this baby, now a toddler, then a pert little girl, is also learning to share and care. But the girl had an agenda of her own. Suddenly one saw that the role of a mother as imagined or perhaps, vaguely understood could be questioned.
Please! Can I not live my own life? Do I have to answer for each little thing I do? I am disgusted with this refrain “it is for your own good”. I know what it means and I can take care of myself – thank you!
There is much heartbreaking pain and avoidable conflict. An uneasy kind of friendship develops as the teens are about to end, and one hopes that some understanding and maturity comes along to make life a little less rough – not for the daughter or son alone but also for the mother too!
It is when watching the grandchildren that at last one realizes many things. Seeing one’s grown up child as a mother react and deal with her own children fetches one short. Was this the way I behaved, one thinks, seeing an instant thoughtless reaction of the mother to one’s grandchild. Sometimes one approves, and at other times one feels sad for one’s past reaction and the present reaction of the daughter to her children.
Yet, I think with joy at what I helped create, and with understanding at what this individual has become today. Let us not go into what all shaped her and made her what she is. She is and one has been and will remain essentially a mother – friend and sharer of her joys, sorrows, her ideas and queries. One is learning once again to look anew at her life and motherhood.
I realized the profound role of a mother only when I became one. Still, sometime I wonder why some mothers fail to untie the apron strings especially with the boys and set them free? Why they cling to them, smothering their growth? what chemical changes take place to turn a mother into a much disliked mother – in – law ? Is a mother’s love conditional at times ? I leave you with Some food for thought.
This post is part of the Blogadda Mother’s Day Contest