When Anay was born and was perhaps, a few days old, I realized something. I found how a ball of mass, with a drum beating inside him, with every pulse, has been put into my hands. A gullible, innocent, extremely fragile thing who’s my responsibility to protect and to care.
And, I found myself immediately incapable.
It was easier protecting him when he was inside me, still in womb. I just needed to take care of 100 things to take care of my body. But now, it was outside me and the 100 had multiplied 100 times over.
What all can you take care? Food, Poop, Mosquitoes, Vaccines..sure. But, what about dangers like people, accidents, unawares. There’s a caring physically but what about the emotional care. How do you save him from all the world hatred and hardships that we’re inevitably going to follow? How do you ensure he never falls off the bed while sleeping because you went for a leak mid-night? How do you guarantee that no bully ever set his/her hands on him? How do you make sure that he never falls sick? How do you ensure that he’s never snatched away from you….
The answer is no matter what you do, you can’t.
And in that moment, I realized something else. He’s God’s child and God’s to protect him. I’m nothing but a medium that was to bring him into this universe. The incidents, the experiences, he’s destined for, in his life, are his own. You can stand and be witness to those. You can pray for God to be gentle and kind to him. You can hope to be there and help him out of any situation but you cannot be in control of it, anytime.
So, after that moment, I don’t try to control his life. I don’t try to control what he’s becoming or what he’s chosing. I let him chose and just try to make him aware, wherever I can. I stand witness. I stand just around for him to hold in case he needs me. Just so he knows I have his back at all times. But, I don’t believe, at any point of time, that I’m in charge of him. I dont believe that I’m in charge of his fate.
And, hence, I selfishly take. Than worry about giving. I enjoy whatever time I get with him. Cherish it, knowing it’s timed. He’ll grow up and have his own life, and move on. I enjoy spoiling him, giving him all of my unadulterated love. Kiss him as much as I can. Tell him uninhibitedly in long passages/monologues on how beautiful a child he’s and how fortunate I’m to be his mother. I enjoy the difficult dramas he throws at me because I know it’s part of growing up and I’ll miss it when he grows up. Enjoy the shenanigans. Enjoy the manipulation. Enjoy the tantrums too. They won’t last forever.
I just want him to know, at all times in his life, whether I’m by his side or not, that he was/is loved. Unconditionally. Not for his achievements or good habits or good looks. Just for being himself.
And with that, I think, he can conquer any situation, any world that comes his way.
Dear God, please be with him at all times.