Saturday, January 18, 2014

Can 18 get any better?

       The books said, that the feeling is so amazing.. That once a baby is born, your world is brighter, it changes.. I didn't feel any of that. All I could remember was that I was done with the push and the scream and the pain.. I smiled at the boy baby they showed me and I promptly went kaput. It took me a couple of hours to get to being the 'Mother'... The first hold, the gentleness that I felt when I saw the most adorable face (that was the only part I could see) can never be described. And to hold those feelings precious, that only I can treasure. He was mine.

He made me his, when he followed me around holding my fingers...refusing to let go. When he refused to go to others I felt a sense of victory. (Later I wished, he'd go to someone, anyone ,so that I could at least use the bathroom when needed)

A child whose eyes twinkled when he laughed, taught me to hope. To live, to be happy for no reason at all. Each time there was a dip in my life, all I had to do was watch him look at his world and mine would be alright. He was my boy. He was my first born. He became my existence.
Time travels..and with it, it teaches experience.

Experience to know that the one who held your fingers, will glare at you if you get extraloving in school. No mom, you can't hug me...'I'm not a baby'...
But dear one, I need to hug you for myself.
His questions  became fewer, and his friends became more.

One day when he comes back from his cricket practice all by himself, I had no idea I'd be overwhelmed. I was learning to let go.. No more did I think that every auto guy would kidnap him nor was I worried he would take the left turn at the first sight of a HDFC bank.

For the mother in me, I didn't need big things to make me proud and happy for him. He was my Doberman... Moody ,snappy and silent at one, and then chattering away n happy the next, wanting me to hug him and pamper him.
I have truly and properly handed him my OCD genes.. And when I whine, my husband rolls his eyes at the madness we bring in.
The boy grew up and a young man soon followed. The young man closed his room door, spent more time inside, listened to songs the mother hadn't heard of even...
And refused to watch the absolute 'junk' (in his words) tv shows with me anymore..
I grew from being his 'sweetypie', 'loveyooo', to 'chill', 'nerd' to 'weird' mother. I've lived it all. But through it all,one thing was constant. 'You don't know anything, MA'...of course we moms don't know anything at all..but to watch their babies grow wings and fly away while we swallow that lump in our throats, for fear of being weird again.
I am the mother who will tear up, seeing her son bring home medals and praises from school. I will also tear up when I see him being generous with his affection to his friends who've gone through bad times. We understand and we just love.

Today as he turns 18 years.. I let go. I let go of my need to think of him as a baby. I let go, of my need to fear the worst for him. I know he will survive, I've taught him well. I let go of my fears for him...I let go of my boy. Go on son, dream on, live your dreams, make mistakes, learn from them, have the strength to accept your faults and forgive. Be a good human being..and just live your life.

In 18 years that baby I was holding is a young man now. That protectivenes I feel is still there, but I have been forced to slowly let him go.  This might be the hardest part, watching him step out into his own life and make mistakes, guiding him without nagging, balancing his need to be autonomous with my need to cling to him.. I will want to shout at him as he walks out the door, “I have kept you alive and well for 18 years, don’t mess this up for me now!"

But always remember, your 'weird' mom will forever love you and will continue to wait up, till you get back home to ask you 'Have you eaten anything?'

Here's wishing my big boy all of 18 the very best he can ever dream of... Sigh!! Even that bike that he always wanted.. Yes..

At 18, everything is possible and tomorrow looks friendly. - Jim Bishop

"So let's make this a memorable occasion
In every single way
And I'll be there to help you
Ensure it's a wonderful day. -

The love of friends and family
Will be with you today
So enjoy the many wishes
Which are bound to come your way"

Happy birthday my son 


Sumana said...

Wishing him a belated Birthday. He is 18, cannot believe it. The lovely string of emotions in this post is amazing. Wishing him all the best in his endeavours.

Sanity said...

I never knew the feelings of a mother, my mother. Had it not been your blog today, I would've never realised how rude can we children sometimes be!

Sanity said...

Thank you for this much needed point of view of a mother. Had it not been for you, I would've never known how "weird" I must have behaved every now and then. That can only bring pain to a mother, having known that her son is oblivious to her patient upbringing when himself knew "nothing".

Jaya said...

They will always remain our baby, Its so good to read your post Prat, Saree pact brought us togther and here we are connecting somehwehere beyond explaination :) My son will be 18 next month and I have lived all those you described. but this mthers day he wrote and that made everything worthwhile :)

Jaya said...

Hi, SO good to connect with you on Saree Pact and I am so happy to discover your blog. My son will be 18 next month and I have seen/heard all these what you wrote but this mothers day I got a blog post and it made every joy, pain, sadness worthwhile :)
Good to MEET you here..

shashi said...

After reading this blog I would just say Love you Mom

Prats said...

Thank you for reading. And it's been really long and I had hardly come to my blogspace. And don't blame your self for your feelings to your mom. Kids are precious to them however they be. Just let her know how you feel often.

Prats said...

Hey great to meet you here too. It's been ages that I hardly step in here. Sorry for checking this so late. And yes, I remember reading this post for you. It's just so touching.