Motherhood is a blissful thing; it’s beautiful; it’s
satisfying; it is nothing less than ecstasy. But being a mother does not mean
you sacrifice on being a woman. While your life starts revolving around your
child, finding out some time for yourself; to do the things you love; to feel
complete is equally important.
Unfortunately somewhere amidst this happy cacophony of
motherhood, most women tend to lose themselves; their own identity. And if they
don’t, the people around them compel them to do. Even after that if they don’t
then they are made to go through a guilt trip.
I had always been this self-determining woman who loves her
own space and time. Be it a couple of pages I read; a coffee I savour at a
coffee shop; a long walk; a bit of quilting; blogging; or pure blissful day
dreaming. I need my occasional break for sanity’s sake.
So when I entered motherhood I realised that “me-time” was scarce
– very scarce – and I wasn’t prepared for it. Suddenly being confined to the
house was not a great thing at all. I started stealing time to read and quilt
between the nursing and the nappy changing. I would take a short walk around in
the evenings. My baby was growing, responding and as days passed my affection
and attachment towards him just kept increasing. Yet, I continued to take time
out for myself.
A few months later I started going to work. I had faith in
my extended family to take care of my child while I worked. I was satisfied
with calling home once a day to check on him. I knew if something did go wrong,
I would get a call from home. I enjoyed a once in a while stopping by at a
coffee shop sipping on a coffee and reading a book before I got home. I enjoyed
strolling around the bazaar area - window shopping before I got home.
It was then that people around started this entire exercise
of creating chaos up in my head. Statements like the following kept hovering
and buzzing in my ears everywhere I went - “Oh, don’t you call home every hour.
I would miss my child so much that I would just keep calling home and crying.”
- “Don’t, you just wait for the clock to strike six every evening so that you
can run home to your baby. My child is three years old and I still do it.” And
These statements from people around started making me feel
like a culprit. I started questioning my attachment with my child; wondering if
I was a dreadful mother. I went into major depression and then self
introspection. I spoke to my family and friends who mattered. They were the
people who convinced me that I was doing just fine.
Then I got into observing the same women around who would
make the comments above. And I realised that women were just not living for
themselves. They were wives, mothers, daughters; and that’s about it. They had
somewhere lost their own identity.
I realised then that taking care of myself will only make me
a better parent. I would only be ‘fun to be around’ and a more approachable
Today, two years later, I am extremely attached and involved
as a mother. I am bringing up a child who will respect his own independence and
the independence of others.
I continue to take time out for myself and loving myself as
Like motherhood it is just as beautiful to be a woman.
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