The story was told of two mothers who delivered three days
apart and shared a ward, with their babies in the hospital bed. In the middle
of the night, one woke up and saw that her baby was dead. She then quietly
switched babies with the mother in the next bed. When the other mother woke up
and saw that the baby was not hers, she freaked out and took the first mother
to court.
In the courtroom, the judge calmly heard the case from each
woman. Both claiming the living child to be her own. With a wave, he silenced
them both, pronouncing that the child be sawed in two, so that each woman could
have half.
The woman whose child was the living one, was deeply troubled
and quickly begged that the judge give the child to the other woman. Immediately,
it was made clear who the real mother was and the living child duly returned.
Another miscarriage. Another stillborn. Yet another, born
with so many heart defects they cannot live beyond their first hour outside the
womb.
Even with all this, we still get news of child abuse on the
rise. Neglected children on the streets. Child trafficking getting out of
control. The rate of adoption and fostering unable to keep up with the sheer
number of abandoned little ones. Depression, teenage pregnancy, child suicides
on the rise as a result of parental negligence.
This Mother’s Day, the only thought in my head is ‘mothers
(and fathers), we cannot continue to stand by and watch.’
--
From the time I was pregnant with Humblet until now, I have
been a mum. Being a mother is rarely something you choose. Some people plan, but
are unable to conceive. Some people conceive one healthy child after another
without any complications. Still others strive to time, calculate and plan, but
still, the child is nothing like they expected him or her to be.
I never wanted to be a mum, because I never thought I could be
a good one. Motherhood was thrust upon me like a heavy burden and fear often
paralysed me in the early stages of the journey. When we almost lost her because
of the complicated pregnancy, involving a surgery within the first trimester. When
she was hospitalised before she was a year old for an infection that had to be
surgically removed. When depression plagued me all those dark days, then months, alone
with an infant whom I did not quite understand.
Fast forward three years and there we were all ready for
Singlet’s arrival. Thinking the second child would be so much easier, since we
were now ‘experienced’ parents. Within the third day of his life, we were told
he had a hole in his heart. One that would eventually require surgery of sorts,
one that might cause his growth to the hampered and his lungs to be forever
overworked.
All the time my thoughts were, if only I could go into that operating
theatre and take Humblet’s place. Or that I could give Singlet my heart and
take his defects instead. Let me bear the brunt of their asthma attacks,
mysterious fevers, infections and the like.
Is this called nobility? Or selflessness even?
I think not. Instead, this is motherhood, this is parenthood.
Is it not?
You wake up without complaining. You carry without tiring. You
clean up shit again and again. You read the same book 500x. You go to bed shaking
your head, asking yourself what you got yourself into. But you wake up and do
it all over again.
Your body is exhausted, most of the time you are running purely on adrenaline. But you look at the sweetly sleeping face of your child sleeping and you are immensely grateful they are alive. That they have given you the privilege of being a parent.
--
Can’t conceive? Would
you consider adoption?
Single? Would you consider
mentoring a young life?
Done with having your
own kids? Would you think about fostering one or two more?
Had a miscarriage?
Would you consider counselling, comforting another with a similar experience?
Is there a single parent
you can help and support? Is there a neglected child you can take in? Is there
an unwanted new born you can welcome into your home?
I am one person, we are one family, but all you wonderful
parents out there. All day every day, I learn from you. I read your stories and
see you do wonders with your ever-growing children. I need you. We need you. Other
children need you.
I am mother, hear me roar. We are mothers, we are parents,
hear us roar.
Happy Mother’s Day you wonderful people, I am loved because I
am my mother’s child.
No comments:
Post a Comment