Friday, August 18, 2006

maternally speaking

ang hirap maging nanay.

It's a hearbreaking, heart-bursting job. Sometimes you are so proud of your little one your heart almost literally bursts with happiness, gigil, and you want to squeeze him, hug him, love him until the end of time.

And yet, there are those moments when you can't stand who he is, what he does, and are afraid of who he will become. And you can't feel this way. You are not God, you can't mould him, control him. You are a mother. A paragon of virtue, patience, understanding, commitment, loyalty.

When I feel like being a M.M. (monster mom: one who screams and throws a fit much worse than her toddler; this part of me I pacified by sending my little one to school for half a day, everyday, when he was just shy of three), I reminisce. I look back on the 3 weeks my boy spent in the NICU, tubes and all, hanging on for dear life. His chest would heave from his crying fits, his pitiful cries brought about by extreme hunger. At one point his chest caved in and the paedia suspected he had congenital heart disease. I cried every single day from the day I left my hospital bed until the day I brought him home. I visited him everyday for 30 (three-zero short minutes) and all I could do was offer a finger and bawl my eyes out. I felt my world was ending there and then. I have to reminisce to keep things in perspective. To remind my M.M. self that petty things, trivial arguments, age-appropriate tantrums and the like are best dealt with an open mind anda heart full of empathy.

Mothering can be so laborious. For some, it even proves fatal and dangerous (especially if you're off your rocker to begin with). Oftentimes I find myself writing about my motherly frustrations, wanting to vent on a computer's pages, and in the next instant I am horrified at my words and proceed to delete them. Perhaps in deleting them electronically I secretly hope they disappear emotionally as well. This time I'm not deleting a word. I want to be able to look back and say that I was an honest mother. Not perfect, rarely patient, frequently unkind, unreasonably sarcastic, only human, but very much in love with my little boy. Motherhood for me is living out all the maxims about imperfect love, tough love, in its purest, most solid form.


Blogger Pam said...

Very well said! I don't think I would have enough courage to put what you said into words. But I understand and live what you feel. Our little ones are so loved and precious and we can't imagine our lives without them but at times, they do try our patience to the screaming point.

But at the end of the day, a hug, a smile or a heart warming/melting "I love you" makes any kalokohan that they did just fade away from memory.

5:40 PM, August 21, 2006  
Blogger Bandit said...

you're a wonderful mom Dawn! Its only natural and normal for us to feel this way. I think if we didn't have our breakdowns once in awhile we'd be scary, robotic, stepford moms. Its a challenge and at the same time a great learning and personal building experience trying to juggle being moms and being just human.

8:16 PM, August 21, 2006  

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