Saturday, October 31, 2015

Saturdays: Honestly

sharing a Mother-Daughter moment

Early readers of humblet would know my first response to the news of pending motherhood was a lot less than motherly. Even after humblet was born, these supposedly 'nurturing emotions' did not well up inside of me (as though I was very nearly waiting for it to happen). All this time, I have been rather closed about this side of me, in part for fear of judgmental mothers and non-mothers but more so the illusion I had - if I didn't talk about it, it wasn't real.

Nothing could be a bigger lie.

'When are you planning to have children?'

Is one question I could (would) never ask my married friends because my own answer was always 'never'. Never liked children. Never helped with friend's kids. Never felt like I could raise one of my own.


As my baby bump grew in size, I began to dread motherhood even more as I slowly became an 'advice magnet'. People (and I mean even random people in the supermarket and the MRT) started bombarding me with advice of how to bring up my child, mind you she wasn't even born yet. What I ought to eat, or wear. How I ought to dress her or feed her. What a mother should look like or speak like.

No, thank you.

Fiercely ambitious in my career, I casually committed a decade to my company not once considering the fact that it would come to a complete standstill as it has now. Extremely vain, I began to fold up clothing that would no longer fit my burgeoning belly. Rebellious pursuits like beer, coffee and expensive weekend brunches also had to give.

Not me.

Young mothers around me happily gave up their careers, lifestyles, social life and even their figure. They heartily encouraged me to do the same and more. Only breastfeed! Demand feed! Baby wearing! SAHM! What?


Being at home 24/7 with a tiny human isn't always easy. Yes, watching her grow and seeing her smile bring stupendous amounts of joy. But all I'm saying is - it isn't easy.

I crave adult company and intellectual stimulation. I wish Mya and I could communicate intelligibly rather than having to decipher from hundreds of different cries. I want to travel, to read, to teach and to build schools. I want to dress up and spend four hours at a buffet. I. I. I. Me. Me. Me.


But maybe, that's the problem. It's not about me nor is it about what I want. Neither is it all about her. It is, as it has always been - about family. When I got married, I happily gave up single hood. Now that I'm a mother, I ought to relinquish different things as well...


who would love my Daughter more than I? Why would I have a child only to have her brought up by someone else?  

She cries because she's trying to communicate with me. She poops often because she's feeding well. And no matter how many hours I carry her a day, it will be too few hours once she stops allowing me to. So I will gladly drop everything, learn anything and love every single aspect of being humblet's mum, because there can be only one.


Thank you for reading this post. It was difficult to write and has been edited dozens of times. Yet I feel that this would encourage many others. And so I continue to write, for humblet and for you, my precious reader.

Grateful this weekend,

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