March 31, 2015

With motherhood comes the inevitable firsts. But as the title suggests, this isn’t about the milestones that you cheer. 

At first you learn to deal with the hunger cries. 

Rank novices, you think that you’ll always protect her, no matter what. 

Then a pesky little mosquito gets to her before you can get to it. 

Then the bumps and the falls. It breaks your heart and you feel terrible for hours, that sickening thud reverberating in your head over and over again. 

Her own nails (that you put off trimming by just a couple of days) leave little gashes on her nose, her cheeks, her arms. 

Then you decide to get her ears pierced. Let’s not talk about this. Or let’s just say it’s great that infants forget so quickly, and this quality is something I’m constantly aspiring to imbibe in myself now. 

And then, the inevitable (I suppose) happens. She falls ill and needs a blood test. And no, then don’t let you in so you can hold her. 

And so you wait by the door, steeling yourself to the wailing, waiting, waiting, waiting, till the ordeal is over. Then you go in to hold her and of course, there’s blood and tears and an upset little baby. You pick her up and she calms down for a bit, and begins to wail again. At the memory, perhaps. You betrayed me. How could you leave me alone with these nasty people, she seems to say. Never again, darling, you tell her. A lie, of course. 

And then you take her away and nurse her for a bit, and overcome by sleep and exhaustion, she drifts off to la-la-land in a minute. 

And then you think, one day before you know it, that magical cure-all, that instant soother, nursing, won’t cut it any longer. What then, you wonder.  

Then you also realise, physical pain is one thing. What about that other horrible affliction, and the destruction it leaves in its aftermath? 


How will she deal with it when the time comes? Will she lean on you, will she have a confidante, will she grin and bear and emerge unscathed?

One can only hope. 


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