Ten years ago, at this time, I was filled with anticipation mixed with trepidation. I was certain in my decision but was hazy about the consequences. In a few more hours we would set off, my parents and myself, a family of three. Of course I would be driving. But on our way back, I would not be driving. I would be otherwise occupied. And here I am, still otherwise occupied.
I set out in the morning as a single woman with not a care in the world, came back a mother. As my daughter cuddled in my arms in the backseat of the car, while my father drove and mother navigated, it had not really sunk in. I smiled down at the peacefully sleeping face, more in accordance with textbook behaviour. Then we reached home, parked our car and I climbed out with her in my arms. My neighbour who was coming down the stairs asked, ‘Whose child is this?’ and I replied, ‘Mine!’. That is when it hit me, I am a mother!
It is such an all-consuming, all subsuming identity. During these past ten years, I have wondered, that is when I get a few seconds of mental silence to do things like wonder. I have wondered, I used to be so many things before, but am I just a mother now? Can I ever be anything more anymore? But yesterday as I was imploring her to not let her talent for music go unrealized, emphasizing the importance of each of us making the most of our special abilities, she says, Amma, you should be a writer. I evade by saying I have nothing to write about and she quips, ‘You should write about your journey with me.’ So, here I am.
When I was interviewing for adoption they asked me the reason I wanted to adopt. I had thought deeply about it and I knew the answer: I wanted to have someone to give all the love I had inside me. I did not know then how giving love would become second nature, subconscious and all consuming. But then I had no clue that receiving love could be so nourishing and rejuvenating. For years, every evening it rejuvenated me when the bundle of energy hurtled at me as I stepped in through the front door. But like everything to do with a child, change is the only constant. I don’t get a hero’s welcome now. Days now are emotional, acrimonious and exhausting. Expectations are up there with the stars. But underneath the turmoil runs the cool waters of certainty that she’s got my back just as I have hers. That gives you the courage to reach for the said stars, even if you can’t reach them, you’ll certainly get a good stretch for your muscles!
Image of Mother Godess from the Indus Valley Civilization by Chetana Sachidanandan
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