For my little one...

The slim tall chocolate-hued little girl has eyes that twinkle like diamonds. She is gangly but not awkward. Her hair is silky with a little wave at the end. Her neck is slender and the collarbones stand out because she has to flesh out some more. Her cheekbones are well defined and the cute button nose twitches in irritation when her mother puts her foot down a bit too often. Her teeth are all over the place and so her smile is shy and a tad hesitant. Someday a friendly dentist is sure to make a lot of money. Altogether she is a pretty child who will look absolutely stunning the day she comes into her own.

Why do I adore this child beyond anything else? Why does her smile light up my heart so? Why do I feel such a strong sense of gratitude whenever I think of her? The answer is simple really. She came into my life when I was at one of my lowest phases. I had lost my father two years previously. My son was hyperactive and while I knew something was out of place, he was not yet diagnosed with autism. I was just about to get started on a new job when I discovered I was pregnant again. I was devastated. I wanted to work so badly. I wanted to get away from a child I knew I was not a good parent to. I wanted to feel like a person again. And how could I do that when I was wracked with nausea and losing weight in kilos. So I was blue. I had to be hospitalized for dehydration. I was put on medication so I could hang on to some weight. It was an unhappy pregnancy.

But when I gave birth to a little girl, I was transformed. The little thing was underweight – just 2 kilos, not surprising since I weighed exactly 49kilos just before I delivered her. In any other country she would have been placed in an incubator. But they gave her to me to keep by my side and the entire night in the awful clinic, I lay awake despite the pain to make sure she was okay. She was so small that I was scared to hold her. But she was my daughter. 

Thus grew the bond that was so strong it took me by surprise. This was a child who would cleave to me always. She would suckle heartily and sleep through the night. She never cried. She would get angry but mostly she was sunshine itself. I felt honoured to be her mother. It is not like I do not love my son – he is my firstborn after all but he never showed me that he loved me unabashedly and though I know now it is his partly his autism and partly my ineptitude that kept him from doing that, it was just easier to let the little one flood me with her affection. For my son I stretch myself thin. For my daughter, I have dreams. 

If there is anything I can do to ensure that my children learn the lessons of life without going through pain, I would do it. But I can’t do that and perhaps life’s lessons will not be valuable enough if they do not go through pain to learn them. On Mahi’s tenth birthday, I feel grateful and proud to be her mother. I hope that she always stays true to her spunky self – I hope I do right by her.