Fear of a mother

18 March, 2013

I was soaking myself in the sun for they say it's good for the baby. I have completed my first trimester. I look at these birds flying around and these little insects in my garden wondering how they re-create, and pass on to the next generation something of their own. I am not sure if they pass more of themselves down or maybe they evolve as the next line is different and so is the next.

However, if you look back as a whole then there are few similarities between the first and the third, and the third and the fifth, which should mean that the first and the fifth are the same technically, but not factually. These animals, birds insects, herbivores, carnivores, amphibians are all so sure. I mean it’s a season of the year and they reproduce without any thought for pleasure rather they reproduce as a basic necessity for survival. They are so sure that they should reproduce, and reproduce they do in dozens. They also seem to take care of their offsprings well. Some are kicked, some are thrown away but they are capable of self survival. Will my baby be the best?

I keep my hand on the small mound that needs to grow bigger by the day keeping the gallons of food that I consume daily in view. If it grows big I feel insecure that I will look not so pretty, and if doesn’t I start to worry about the safety of my baby. The second I realised that I am carrying life inside life I started to get consumed inside a bubble of insecurities. The biggest question was: Am I ready to be a parent? My child, sweet and innocent, who is yet to be born, changed me in a way I never believed was possible. Now I think about things which earlier escaped even my peripheral vision.

I had a fight with my husband. He was home early and I asked him to stop being so over-protective. He looked at me with that incredulous expression and I felt that he thinks I had lost my mind. I do that often nowadays, thinking what he thinks I am thinking. God! My mind seems to be as tangled neatly as a cobweb.

The baby walks over to the road and starts playing. I ask him to come in. He smiles and continues to play. By the time I reach to catch him with my hands he runs hither and tither, and ends up on the ground with a bruised knee and tears in the eye. I feel like taking him back in my arms and placing him back into the securities of my tummy. But also at the same time I feel like it was my mistake he got hurt. I feel responsible. I wake up from the dream shivering. Wondering if I am capable of this miracle called baby. If I can handle and take care.

The moments of these insecurities pass and then again a woman feels so sure of herself. She feels that all those thoughts were garbage. But it’s like bouts of morning sickness, they tend to come again. They are, as my grandmother used to say, the hills and valleys of emotions, one has to travel to unravel the miracle of life. But I was not okay with this, this insecurity, engulfing fear and anxiety of the baby's welfare. I had to find a way out. I found the way. I found Bhagavad Gita.

I cannot point to a specific phrase, as the entire book had a soothing effect. But the most enriching part was: Do your duty; do not worry about the result.

As a child I had never seen my parents enter into a quarrel but at the same time I had never seen them talk to each other with affection, there was always a wall of silence between them. It was not lack of love or respect; it was always the lack of expressing things. It was prevalent during those days. Becoming a mother has an effect of making one feel like the earth mother: mother to all.

When I visited my mother the other day, she was having severe bouts of cough and so we decided to visit a doctor (It was more like I decided and ordered her around. The advantage of being pregnant is that people tend to obey and generally argue less.) My mother boarded the bus to go back to her home after the visit to the doctor. I felt satisfied, like I had done the right thing. While I kept smiling to myself, my mother lost her footing and slipped from the bus. The man who was to climb in after her helped her. She smiled at me sheepishly and waved. This was like a moment of realization.

No matter how much you love someone you cannot control, manipulate, direct or change their life. Life itself means variety. No two lives are the same. The animal that kicks its offspring, the bird that nudges the newborn to the end of the hill to make it fly are doing their duty, they love their kids but they are being strong. Life is about making choices. Life is responsibility to do your duty, and not monitor the results. My baby will come into the world six months from now and during this time I will love the baby just as much as I shall love him for the rest of my life. He may fall, I may make mistakes, I am not perfect. I am just best at loving him with my heart. Completely!