It’s past 2am. In the wee hours of the
night, I climb into bed, after a long, hard day of juggling mom, wife and work
duties. A few minutes later, I am in a land of my own. Not for long, though.
Whimpering in fear after what I can only assume a bad dream, my little Sid is
clutching his blanket, struggling to rekindle his peace in his cot. As I scoop
him in my arms, he falls into a deep slumber once more, drooling on my skin.
How did time speed-rocket right by me?
It seemed like not long ago, he could barely keep his neck straight, babbled
randomly, struggling to use his fingers to feed himself. All of a sudden, he’s
this young boy who has us all wrapped around his fingers, laughs out loud when
someone makes burp noises, listens intently when birds chirp in the garden and
builds Lego blocks in high stacks, just to smash it all again.
Hardest job in the world, isn’t this?
Their pain is ours. Their happiness is ours. Their life is more meaningful than
ours. When they smile, it seems like all the angels have come to bestow us with
all the good things in the world. On the other hand, seeing them cry in pain
shatters our hearts. Sick days are the absolute worst. Nothing pierces more
than seeing his tiny frame, lying weakly, eyes tearing up with pain. Seeing him
in discomfort makes me plead that I am in his place instead.
What I hear most frequently are that the
months that pass may go swooping by, but the nights are long and hard, at least
until they sleep through the night. But, even when they finally sleep through
the night, do we ever? We constantly peep over their cots to make sure they are
comfortable, warmly covered under their blanket, with a fresh diaper.
I remember a night when Sid was 3
months. As I struggled through yet another night feed, my mind was in constant
wonderment, as I am every night, whether awake or asleep. I wonder if he is
well. I wonder if he is content, but at that moment, most of all, I wonder if his
little belly is well-fed. My mind often wanders to depths I should not even
conquer now, such as, will he grow to loathe me, or will I be the cool mom he
boasts to his friends? Will he tell me about his first crush, his first kiss, his
first heartbreak? Will he marry someone to his liking like his parents did, or
trust us to find him a pretty wife, as my great-grandparents did for my
grandparents? Ah, the constant wandering mind of mine, when I should be savoring
the oh-so-short moments that I can hold him close to me, tiny and fragile.
But there’s always a silver lining. His
breath against my skin. His heartbeat drumming softly on my chest. As i
carefully whisk away the hair from his face, he opens his tiny eyes and
clutches me tighter, as if pleading me to not let go, and i let him sleep on a
little longer on me, until the drowsiness of the night gets the better of him.
I hope I’ll always remember this version
of him. One who sleeps in a tiny, powder-blue, rocket-themed pajama set,
rolling away from a diaper change. One who attempts to take a few steps to get
to his favorite evening snack, and can’t help but land on his tiny bum a few
times. One who runs towards my arms when I come home, with a pool of relief in
his eyes, now that mom is home.
We
are never the same, aren’t we? Our life has suddenly attained more meaning,
physically, emotionally and mentally. Our hearts feel full of happiness,
brimming on its edge. Home is messier, what was previously stacked with scented
candles and perfume bottles are now contained with baby essential oils and milk
bottles. What was before a smooth surface of well-cared skin is now an
embodiment of a hard-fighting body, with stretch marks to prove. Some days, it
is harder to accept that little piece of flab refusing to hide in my jeans and
the little cellulite that shows itself when I try to reach up the top shelf.
But most days, I am able to remind myself that stripes are what make a tiger.
I hope your little feet take you place
far and wide, little precious of mine. I hope you find insurmountable
happiness. But most of all, I hope I continue to be a home for you. I homed you
in me for a mere 40 weeks, but you will be homed in my heart, forever and
always. I'll always have your back. I promise.
