2019 has flown by in a blur of soiled diapers, baby vomit and the art of learning to say no without saying NO to a chimpanzee of a baby. My entire body hurts by bedtime (which is also a long drawn out process). He is a bundle of exhaustion. Whoever said babies are bundles of joy, clearly had no babies of his/her own. Please spend a day with my son, you nitwit and let's re-write that phrase.
I've lost half my hair, grown one pearly white strand, broken my back, dislocated my left wrist and I live with the constant fear of losing my ear-lobe (thanks to his fascination for earrings). His incessant howling while I'm on the toilet, while I put on my make-up and while I eat my meals, has permanently damaged my brain. He's stuck to me like a small Koala bear 24/7. And while it's nice to be obsessively loved like this, it can get tiring.
Thankfully, his father arrives dutifully every weekend and all that intense loving goes straight to him. However, that leaves me with two very exhausted babies - my baby son and my baby husband. Suddenly I have two mouths to feed, two little boys whose whims and fancies I have to fulfil and I become mommy squared.
What this year has taught me, is that women are undefeatable. We can multitask like goddesses. We move mountains each day, without even realizing it. The downside of this inhuman ability is that we're dead beat at the end of the day and without 8-9 solid hours of shut eye, we WILL turn into crabby pants. And hell hath no fury, like a woman scorned.
I realized on January 8th, at 12.15pm to be exact, that there was a whole new dimension of my heart that was yet to be tapped. It was dormant until he was born. Even before the doctors told me I had given birth to a son, I knew it was a boy. I knew instantly, that I had to protect him with my life. My maternal instincts came out in full force and with each passing day, my love for him only grew stronger and stronger.
It's a strange feeling being a mom. Even if you're physically unwell, you put the needs of your child first. Even if you can't eat your meal in peace, you ensure that your child has had his fill. That tiny person takes precedence over everything else. I don't love him, I obsess over him. I can tell if he's hungry, sleepy, crabby, pottied or just about to vomit by looking at his face.
I had no idea, I had a love like this inside of me until he was born. I don't look at him as a different person. I look at him as an extended part of my body, but with a different personality. I can already anticipate him breaking my heart when he starts school, makes cool and exciting friends, goes to college, gets a job, gets married and so on and so forth.
I must learn to let go, but how? Time will tell. Or, I always have a generation of strong women in my family, whom I can look upto and seek advice from. In my head, I've already chosen his bride for him. She must be a good girl who will take care of him. But he will also take care of her. I will raise him to be an equal partner, not a spoilt brat. He will learn how to do household chores. He will cook, clean and have a flourishing career. Too many aspirations already for a one year old child!
Happy birthday in advance my monkey. Your father and I, waited six long years to have you. You've destroyed us physically and we realize we should have had you much sooner, when our bodies were much more agile and flexible. But you've filled our hearts and lives with so much wonder and excitement, that we forgive you for breaking our bones. So go ahead and break some more.
