Wednesday, May 31, 2017

The Miracle of Motherhood

I had never been one to be fond of children. Growing up, I had never spent much time with people younger than I was (aside, obviously, from my own brother). Visiting households with young children always ended up with me in a corner minding my own business or at the backyard with the cat, while the other adults entertained the heck out of the kids (or had it been vice versa, I wonder?).

The thought of being the only adult in the same room with kids made me shudder.

So when I got pregnant, I naturally questioned myself, would I love my child the way so many mothers declare they do their children, with such passion? They say that you would love your own child no matter how much you disliked children, even if it takes the childbirth itself for that to happen. It's like some sort of a prophecy. It's bound to happen.

Being me, it was tough believing it without having concrete evidence or experiencing it myself. But I held on to that notion nonetheless, from the day the test came out positive, to the monthly (and later, weekly) checkups, to the prenatal plannings, arrangements and shopping sprees, even right up to the point where I was lying semi-anesthetized on the icy cold operating bed. Behind all the excitement (read: nervousness) that my life was about to undergo a dramatic change, and more imminently, that I was going to be cut into like a piece of meat on a chopping board, there was that nagging question in the depth of my consciousness: Will I really feel so much love for this little human, whom I had never met before, just like that? Where could all that love possibly come from?

And then I heard his first cry. An overwhelming gush of emotions that I could not describe suddenly filled my heart to the brim.

And then I cried.

All my beliefs up till then about everything having a definite cause and effect, that everything must have a logic explanation, were cast right down the drain. For I could not, and still cannot, explain why or how I could have such intense love for someone that I had only just met (actually, just heard).

Motherhood has taught me that things are not always empirical or absolute. It is difficult because it makes me question all the beliefs I used to live by ever so comfortably. Every decision now seems like a gamble. Is what I think is right, truly right?

Sometimes, I get scared by the vulnerability this love has opened up in me. Yet, I am awed by the immense strength that comes with it.

Miracles do exist, after all.

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