Mother
It’s a chilly winter day in December. The long and laborious nine months of carrying a living being in the womb comes to an end with the birth of the child. The mother is tired but relieved. She is resting now, the only time she would truly ever rest. The drugs keep her calm and asleep. She has endured the pain only souls of similar body have endured. The winter only makes it harder. It’s an end, the child is born and is alive but it’s the beginning to a forever season of love, care, worry and sleepless nights. The mother knows it. She has done this before.
The mother is awake. She is confused. There are people around her. Some happy, some in a hurry. Before she can put herself together she is handed the new born baby. It’s a boy, says an old lady with a somewhat pride. For the mother it doesn’t matter. Confusion from the ill conceived brain is immediately taken over by both tears and joy. There is no better amalgamation of the two emotions. The child though asleep clings to the mother the way it had done so for the past months. Nature dictates detaching the baby from the mother at birth. But at this moment no natural force is strong enough to separate them. The child knows it’s safe spot, the warmth of the mother.
Two other kids, a one and the other two years old surround the mother and their new brother. Young and impatient they want their mother’s attention. A true test of a mother’s strength. She gathers herself, sits up and leans on the wall. The new born baby on her arms feeds off his mother’s breasts with the two other kids on her lap busy fighting for their spot. This feels soothing. Of course to the kids. They have triumphed to secure a part of their mother’s affection. They climb to see their brother’s face in awe, occasionally touching his cheeks and trying to open his clenched fist. Meanwhile the mother takes a deep sigh and leans back. Thoughts and emotions barrage through her.
Astonishingly, she calms herself again. This time without any drugs. She finds peace in commotion, solace in madness, joy in pain, warmth in winter. Her motherhood cannot be challenged. For a selfless life she leads. It’s a new beginning for the baby, not for the mother. For her it’s a continuation. A cycle of love and care.
She smiles again. When on Earth will these monkeys grow up? She says it out loud and laughs.
She is proud to be called a mother again.
