Saturday, 21 June 2014

The Day I Grew Up

I was pretty young when I got married, though at the time I didn't really understand all the people who said that. In my mind I was all grown up and able to take care of myself (apart from the cooking part!)

Then four years later I got pregnant and a very nasty chest infection had me in the hospital pretty close to death (and I'm not just saying this to exagerate). I felt so small and lost and alone and it really was my mother more than anyone else I needed right then. I was the child rather than the mother myself. The chest infection thank God did disappear after way too much medication for an expecting mother, which was the lesser evil at that point.

Fast forward five months to the birth of my son, who turned out to be the most demanding, needy, screeching, sick (literally I mean), insomniac and cholicy baby you've ever seen. I tried my best and even accepted help and still, I felt so lost and small I finally admitted I was indeed way out of my league. I felt once again like the child I'd always wanted to leave behind.

I could never say my child brings me no joy, since it would be a great untruth, however he is still the most exhausting of children, troublesome, cheeky, disobedient and any other adjective that drives a mother up the wall. And after four years of that, I can now safely say that yes, I am the mother not the child. Everything within me has changed, and everything on the outside too. As I looked at the early photos with my son a few days ago, I noticed how childish I really did look, much like an older sister holding the baby brother. Now, instead, I actually have to hide the wrinkles beneath my eyes with makeup, my cheeks need a boost of rouge, and when I look at snaps from this past year I see an adult who finally strangers have started addressing as Missus rather than the previously irritating Miss.

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