About a week ago, I became a mother for the first time. Imagining myself as a parent or cooing over others’ children wasn’t ever my thing. But my husband’s gentle “If you leave it too late, am I allowed to go find someone else who can have kids?” as I turned 30, led us not to frantically start trying for children, but to critically examine our lifestyle and see if we could afford them. Children are expensive. Do a neat spreadsheet of the pros and cons of having children, and the outlay will never make sense. So in the spirit of true suburban wage-slave daredevils, we thought, let’s have one and see what happens – so much for romance, maths and adventure!
Two things that I’m still trying to get my head around: first, how did I manage to create an entire human being, albeit a miniature right now, inside me and second, how does a helpless little baby manage to evoke such love in my husband and I; and our respective families? I didn’t consciously prepare for motherhood, but my brain must have been hard at work because just some days in, I’m not just besotted; I’m in worshipful awe of this four-kilo human being who till a week ago was kicking my insides.
Right now, if you asked me what I do all day, I couldn’t give you a decent answer; I’d just say I am busy with the baby, which thankfully is the best excuse, especially when explaining the lack of a baby announcement to my slightly annoyed friends. I’m contemplating doing a Lion King/Simba like photoshoot where I’ll hold my little cub up for the world to see, but finding a decent audience, let alone the fanfare could be a problem.
The animal theme is the best way to explain the colossal protectiveness I feel for my child – I was like a grizzly when a midwife or initially even my husband or my mother were handling him. I didn’t realize this till my husband told me to relax a bit, to stop watching him like a hawk, that he knew what he was doing. Thankfully we were all quick learners because feeding, bathing, changing a baby is a steep learning curve – the little emperor screams his disapproval if any of these take too long. And because it’s my kid, I find it all endearing – yep, I like everything that my burp-and-poo-machine throws at me.
To allow for the birth and parenthood, my husband’s new job gave him “flexible hours” for a week but no paternity leave, which is rubbish because any new father would want to spend a bit of time with his child and any new mother needs help. I had the baby via caesarian and had my mother not put her own busy life on hold to come and help me, I don’t think I could’ve coped at all. My father has been left bereft with the dogs back in Punjab, as she’s taken charge of all three of us –husband, baby and me - with typical aplomb. She’s bossy as ever, brooks no argument and after all chores are done, manages to explore the neighbourhood on daily errands. And why is she doing this? Because I’m her baby and on this Mother’s Day I’d like her to know just how grateful I am for everything she’s ever done and is doing for me and my little family.
(Simrat Ghuman is Head of Communications and Marketing at Anthemis Group in London. A former TV journo, she has just taken her first step into motherhood and will be serialising her quirky take on motherhood in the ‘Gurwilliam Ki Ma’ blogposts. You can read her (hilarious) journey through pregnancy in the Preggers blog below.)
You may also read:
- Dealing With Being Preggers: I am making a Baby!
- Dealing With Being Preggers: Just Where Do Grandparents Fit In?
- Dealing With Being Preggers: Why Not Gurwilliam Singh?
- Dealing With Being Preggers: Of Cravings And Indulgence
- Dealing With Being Preggers: Husband and I, Rowing the Pregnancy Boat
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Published: 08 May 2015,07:58 PM IST