When I walked into the world of motherhood a decade ago, I was so sure that the first year of raising my son was going to be the hardest. I was young and naive.
I am not yet a seasoned mother but now I have learnt to laugh at unsolicited advice. I have learnt to dump my young toddler onto the next available adult and sleep to keep my sanity intact. I do hide my chocolates from my children and I remember to say I do a lot more for myself.
Now I care barely remember what it was like to not be an Amma and in the process, a part of me died and metamorphosed into something I couldn’t recognise, to begin with. But something so delicate, and smart, and beautiful that I have grown to love fiercely. Guard it too.
Understanding the reality:
It has taken me 11.5 years, three pregnancies and two births to realise many hard truths on raising young humans. But one thing has come to me slowly but surely – the hardest thing to do as a parent is – to let go.
In this adult-corona filled- social media dominated world, there is always the better opinion, and better projects, and better toys, and better ideas, and better behaviour management systems being bombarded at me every single day. I am constantly figuring out the ‘how to do’ everything better for our children and in the process, I have gathered that I hold a bit too tightly onto them. Rigidly. Tight enough to have them go breathless even sometimes. Then again on some days, I am an aimless distracted parent because I have consumed so much information that I do not have the energy to fully engage with my children. The rosy pictures and the joy that pours from screens do not match the rage and discomfort I feel in my heart and a blanket of fear wraps me, clogging my heart and brain.
Relinquishing my control to enable my children is definitely there in my mind, floating around somewhere deep behind all the clutter (good and horrifying) inside my head. But the non –realistic images of the projected perfect mother that social media paints for me, that constantly reminds me that to be a fine mother and child – I would have to be this and buy that or else I am a pretty failure and so are my children. It is a pretend world I voluntarily dive in only to feel depleted and joyless after I retrieve back into my real world.
My child’s pretend world:
My child’s pretend world however is beautiful and thoughtful. It only invites me to experience the joy, doesn’t ask me to alter my opinions, and doesn’t care about perfection. My child’s pretend world is a sacred space and an invitation to be a part of his world, his heart, his hands and spirit working together in a loving grace. But why don’t I visit his world often? Because remember I am so caught up with bettering my children, so caught up in my own pretend world, so distracted, so tired.
Do children need us?
Absolutely!
But do they always need us with an intention of betterment?
Not always, perhaps.
I now stop to imagine what this must be for them, me constantly finding ways to better my children. What kind of a message am I relaying to them?
I tried to clear my head around this and understand why do we even micromanage our children so much? Why are we always in constant fear of their potential future events, future failures? Is failing such a bad thing even?
Today I will be taking a break!
I will be neglecting unfair comparisons to others and their lives, abandoning my aspirations for my children. I will just remain connected to their joy, just being there while they see and feel through their frivolous play. I will perceive their happiness as our own and scream ‘Eureka’ through my eyes amidst their vivid discoveries.
Today I will let go.
Just today.
With no plans.
No intentions. No bettering the beauty in them.
Just being and revering their miraculous presence.
Sarbrinder Singh
Janani S Koushik
Antara Pandit
Mansi Zaveri
Rushita Sheth
