Is it really all that easy to be ‘just’ a mother? Why do we feel so guilty for the choices that we make? Why is it so difficult for us to respect ourselves? This story gives a glimpse of a woman’s emotions…..
I am an ordinary girl with ordinary looks. I was just a ‘borderline’ case in school. I just about managed to scrape through the exams. I was not very courageous. I did not know what I was good at even while I was in college. I was 23 when I started dreaming of a career. I was happy when I landed a decent job as a primary school teacher in a nearby school. I loved kids and teaching. I dreamt of opening my own school in the future. A year later I was told I had to get married.
I was keen on working but getting married seemed a little romantic too. I was told that I would be “allowed” to work even after I got married. That was good enough for me so I agreed to get married. I liked my husband. He was a soft-spoken, friendly person who respected my work. We became the best of friends soon after we got married.
Yes, we did have our fair share of fights. But we patched up within a couple of days too. I landed a job within a week of moving into our new rented house and was happy to see that my husband really helped me with all the household chores. I was living the life that I had always dreamt of. I had no complaints at all.
Two years later I discovered I was pregnant. I was scared. Very scared. I did not know what I was scared about. Maybe somewhere deep down I knew my life was going to change forever. I had earned my own money so far. Somehow I did not like the idea of asking my husband for money. I wondered how we would manage without our savings now.
I did not know what it would be like to be a mother. I knew I wasn’t ready to take on this new responsibility. I loved my work. I loved the attention that my students lavished on me. I felt good when my work was respected and I was admired by my principal. My work gave me a purpose, an identity and gave my life some meaning. I was a terrified bundle of nerves now. I did not want to let go of all this.
It took me a long while to accept this change in my life. It wasn’t easy. But I knew I did not have the courage to leave my child in someone else’s care. By now, I had slowly started falling in love with my child. I continued working for the next seven months and then quit my job.
I talked to my child, sang songs and read good books. I also sat by myself for long hours, hugged myself and wiped the tears from my eyes. Love was tough. But my child deserved all my love and attention.
The day I held that little bundle in my arms, all my dreams faded into the background. I loved feeding him and playing with him. Often, I felt a strange sense of peace when I gave him a warm bath, dressed him up in crisp sun-dried clothes and rocked him to sleep in my arms. I could never give up all this for my work. I knew I had taken the right decision.
No, life was not perfect either. I wasn’t the perfect mother. Taking care of a child was a 24×7 job. There were times when I blew my fuse. Sometimes I was so exhausted that I just wanted a break from it all. And there were times I went crazy with fear when my child was sick. I did not know what to do. I could not understand why my child was crying so much. I could not even find out which part of his body was aching. He seemed to be in acute pain and I could do nothing about it. I would follow everyone’s advice. I would do everything to make my child stop crying out in pain like that. I never knew being a mother could be so tough. But there were happy times too. Slowly, I learnt to cherish all the aspects of motherhood.
Yet, sometimes I missed the hectic schedule of my work life. It wasn’t easy to give up a full-time well-paying job. Life was so much better when there was an abundance of money. But life was quite good with a single salary too. Yes, I had to manage with an outdated phone. We could not go on expensive holidays to exotic places. But I had found my share of bliss in my own world too. I loved being a mother and my son proved to be the best teacher of my life. I decided to enjoy this phase of my life without feeling guilty about it. Heck. Everything could wait. Not motherhood.
Time flew. Soon it was time for him to go to school. Strangely I felt happy and relieved at the same time. I would get a good three hours to myself now. And that excited me. It was as if those dreams were waiting to burst open in my heart. I had ignored them for long enough. I wanted to do something productive with my time. Or to be more honest – I wanted to earn some money – of my own.
I had believed in total freedom and independence earlier. But now, as a mother – I was ready to compromise. I was content to get my chunk of free time and a little independence. I started taking tuitions. I looked forward to these three hours every day now. It did not take me long to realize that something within me had changed. I had become more patient and more understanding during these past three years.
But I also knew that my self-esteem had gone for a huge toss during this phase. I was no longer the confident young career woman. I had become ‘an ordinary house-wife and an ordinary mother’. I was earning peanuts and it didn’t feel too good. There were women around me who were pursuing full-time careers with zeal. I wondered how they could leave their children behind like that. I admired them and respected them for the choices that they made so bravely. They could afford a lifestyle that we could only dream about now. I felt as if I was stagnating because I was not putting my skills and education to any use. I hated myself at such times.
Sometimes I would break down and sob my heart out. I was sure something was wrong with me. Why couldn’t I be happy being ‘just a housewife’ and ‘just a mother’ like all the other mothers that I met in my son’s school? They all had such a contented, serene look on their faces.
I would retreat behind a wall of silence for days together when such conflicting thoughts plagued me. I would snap at my kid and husband. And I would end up hating myself even more for behaving so childishly.
I still remember that night clearly. I had gone out for a walk with my son. I just wanted some time out to figure out things for myself. The sheer monotony of my life frustrated me. I did not care that my husband was working twice as hard to keep us in comfort. I assumed he no longer respected me because I was not earning much now. I had fought with him again that night and had walked out of the house to get a hold on my overwrought nerves.
That is when I heard those loud voices. They were coming from the house on the corner – the house in which the Bengali couple lived. I knew her by face. She taught the 10th-grade students in my son’s school. Her daughter studied in my son’s class. I could hear her voice clearly. I knew she was talking to her child. She said, “I love Tanya. But I love what I do too. I want to spend more time with you. I want to be with you when you study or play or at least when you are sick. Yet, I never have the time or the energy to do so. I am selfish Tanu. I hate myself. I don’t know if I am doing the right thing anymore.” I could hear her sobbing loudly.
I then heard her daughter’s voice, “Mumma. Be brave. Tanu loves you. Aap Jaisi Ho Achhi Ho. Aap Meri Mumma Hai. Aap duniya ki sabse achi mumma ho. Chalo. Paani Piyo. Dhere dhere piyo. Ab smile karo. Shabash. Good girl hai meri mumma!”
I could sense Tanya’s mother smiling through her tears. There was absolute silence for a while. A tiny hand wiped the tears that were flowing down my face too. My son hugged me tightly. He said, “Mumma?” I looked at him. I loved him. So much. I smiled through my tears and said, “Kya hua beta?” My little champion looked at me innocently and said, “Kuch nahi. Bhook lagi hai. Ice-cream khana hai.” I smiled and said, “Chalo. Daddy ke saath ice-cream khane jayenge!”