Growing up, I would share everything with my mother, not because she expected me to, but because I wanted to. But as I became a teenager and had a social life, the relationship with her became more distant. Sure, we would talk on the phone every day. But the relationship had definitely evolved. I think it was during my teenage years that we started to grow apart. Maybe it was the hormones and the fact that I was going through puberty, but I remember constantly picking fights with her. And with every argument we had, I guess we grew more and more distant. From sharing every little aspect of my life and feeling excited to get back home and spend time with her, I began spending more time alone in my room.
When I got to know that I was expecting, the first call I made was to my mother. I was overjoyed and couldn’t wait to share this news with her. I knew she would be the most excited for me. The memory is etched in my mind like it was yesterday. It was a December morning, a few days before Christmas. It was chilly that day, but my mother demanded that she has to come to see me right away. My husband went to pick her up, and she brought a ton of food items that would probably last me for about 3 months. During her stay at our place, she basically gave me a crash course on pregnancy from what to eat, what not to eat, to what to do during the 9 months I’m pregnant. She told me she was just a call away if I ever needed help during or after my pregnancy, so I should never be stressed thinking about how to do everything by myself. Frankly, then, I was confident that I would be able to get through this journey with my husband by my side. It was probably during my second trimester that things started to get heated up. Every little thing started to tick me off, and I would spend half of the day either annoyed, irritated, angry or disappointed at myself or my husband. I had a terrible case of morning sickness, and to top it off, my hormones were all over the place. It was hard to get a hold of myself as I was exhausted, sleep-deprived, and hungry most of the time. And my poor husband had to take the brunt of it. I knew I needed some guidance and help from somebody who had walked this journey before, and I could think of no other person than my mom.
From there on out, she was constantly there by my side, helping and guiding me every step of the way. And I felt more confident having her with me. Sharing her own experiences and telling me how to navigate through it all made our bond even stronger than before. I knew I could rely on her no matter what.
Five months down the road, it was finally the D-day. My labor lasted for about 9 hours. After a lot of screaming, crying, and occasionally swearing at everyone in the room, I gave birth to my little one. When the nurse gave him to me, I could only think of only one thought: “I would always be there for you and protect you with my life”. From the corner of my eyes, I could see my mother getting emotional and teary-eyed. No matter how old I am and irrespective of the fact that I have a son of my own, I know that I would always be my mommy’s little girl.
Being a mother has definitely made me appreciate my mom a lot more; the sleepless nights, the pains and aches, the constant worry, and the selfless love that she has for me. So whenever it’s my birthday, I make sure to celebrate it with my mom, as it was also the day she became one.