That little creak of the window. The untimely WhatsApp. The dogs howling under the building.

I never thought trivial things like these would have me break a sweat. I am, one of the greatest horror movie junkies you will ever meet. I could have broken the record of how many horror movies a pregnant woman can watch.

Yet, here I am at 1.59 am, trying in vain to sleep after I witnessed an extremely unfair and unexpected death in my favorite TV series.

And predictably but not mistakenly, I will blame this too, on motherhood.

It’s made me vulnerable. It’s made me miserably susceptible to doubt. It’s made me fear the worst. I had never thought as much about death as I have in the past year. Ever so often, I am at a battle with my mind to stop sending me ridiculously disturbing thoughts. A scene to scene depiction of my worst fears. My daughter falling. My husband falling. My parents falling.

I hate it. There is a constant buzz in my head. I am always preparing myself for the unimaginable. I am always devising better ways to protect M. I hold her hand randomly in the middle of the night. Not out of brimming love but out of the need for reassurance.

Suddenly, I have become exposed to the reality that everything in life is transitional. And I am having so much trouble with this revelation. I am strangely aware of my parents’ gray hairs now. I skip a heartbeat when they cough. I can’t concentrate if I see them pensive.

I am clearly on the edge. Always on the brink of tipping over. I haven’t had a worry-less sleep in ages.

Motherhood has turned me into an emotional mess in so many ways. By giving my life a purpose, it has also given me the fear of losing. By giving me boundless love, its given me a constant lump in my throat. In all the rosy depictions of this phase, people forget to mention its flip side. That although your life gets a meaning, it also gets miserable because you love someone so much. That even though you become a better human, you also become unguarded.

Is that why parents are depicted as superhumans? Because despite this inner emotional battle, they have to present themselves as infallible human beings? Isn’t it ironical that the most vulnerable people also have to be the strongest ?

This phase has got personality changes in me that I wasn’t exactly ready for. But like almost all the mothers reading this would say, ‘welcome to the other side’ .

 

 

Featured Image :Beth Scupham