On this day, five years ago, I took
this photo of my daughter. There were tears.
this photo of my daughter. There were tears.
Just like previous days, my body pained
all over. The wound on my tummy was still fresh, and my breasts hurt
and bled; I dreaded nursing her every time. I barely slept. In the
morning, while I wrote articles and tended to the house, she was
asleep. At nighttime, she was awake, wailing incessantly. I would
nurse, cuddle, and rock her to sleep and still, she would cry.
all over. The wound on my tummy was still fresh, and my breasts hurt
and bled; I dreaded nursing her every time. I barely slept. In the
morning, while I wrote articles and tended to the house, she was
asleep. At nighttime, she was awake, wailing incessantly. I would
nurse, cuddle, and rock her to sleep and still, she would cry.
Sometimes I would fall asleep with her
crying as I nursed her. In those accidental naps, I would wake up to
her tiny, piercing voice as my arms broke loose from cupping her. I’d
be startled and I’d scold myself silly, “She could’ve fallen to the floor
while you slept.” This little bubble of life so fragile, housed in a strange world she knew so briefly.
crying as I nursed her. In those accidental naps, I would wake up to
her tiny, piercing voice as my arms broke loose from cupping her. I’d
be startled and I’d scold myself silly, “She could’ve fallen to the floor
while you slept.” This little bubble of life so fragile, housed in a strange world she knew so briefly.
Tears defined my first month as a
mother – and hers too, as a daughter. Sometimes they fell with her in my arms. “What do you
really want? Why can’t you just stop crying?” Sometimes, they would
fall in the shower as she cried in her rocker.
mother – and hers too, as a daughter. Sometimes they fell with her in my arms. “What do you
really want? Why can’t you just stop crying?” Sometimes, they would
fall in the shower as she cried in her rocker.
Exhaustion consumed me. Everything felt
too big for my small hands.
too big for my small hands.
Whenever I felt like that, I would
think back to the day I gave birth to her.
think back to the day I gave birth to her.
I was half-drugged and half-elated on the operating room table. Lia
had a cord coil, so she was delivered via emergency C/S. My tears
tickled down in the green smock gown they fitted on me, its scent
heady with bleach. Those were tears of fear and pleading.
had a cord coil, so she was delivered via emergency C/S. My tears
tickled down in the green smock gown they fitted on me, its scent
heady with bleach. Those were tears of fear and pleading.
Minutes after, she was out of my womb,
crying faintly. The nurse placed her against my cheek, on my chest.
crying faintly. The nurse placed her against my cheek, on my chest.
“My baby,” I laughed and cried all
at once, my head and hands too heavy with anesthetics to lift
themselves. She’s alive.
at once, my head and hands too heavy with anesthetics to lift
themselves. She’s alive.
I remember that moment clearly until
this day. I’ve cried countless times in my unripe years as a mother.
But today, my tears are of happiness and love. We have days of
bickering. But always, they end in tender moments. In every
reprimanding, in every fight we have, there is love.
this day. I’ve cried countless times in my unripe years as a mother.
But today, my tears are of happiness and love. We have days of
bickering. But always, they end in tender moments. In every
reprimanding, in every fight we have, there is love.
Before her, my life was in shambles.
But now, the gaps that once dominated my life no longer exist. It’s
all because one day, a child came to my life and made me a mother.
But now, the gaps that once dominated my life no longer exist. It’s
all because one day, a child came to my life and made me a mother.
What I hope for all women – with a child on earth or in heaven, or even those without – is that you may find the kind of happiness that I have now. The
kind that no longer needs, but just wants to give. The kind that
knows no limits. The kind that weathers pain and loneliness and
comes out hopeful. The kind that heals even the deepest wounds. The kind that still peers in in its shining, bold glory when the tears come.
kind that no longer needs, but just wants to give. The kind that
knows no limits. The kind that weathers pain and loneliness and
comes out hopeful. The kind that heals even the deepest wounds. The kind that still peers in in its shining, bold glory when the tears come.
To mothers and children – them who
shed light, laughter, and love on life.
shed light, laughter, and love on life.
