A mother's timeless love

For me, you were born the moment two hearts were beating within me. One mine, and the other yours, in tandem. And from that day onwards, the rhythm of your heartbeat became the most melodious symphony of my life. My heart became an ardent lover of yours. I thoroughly enjoyed carrying your weight. Those were the only days in my life when I loved it when the weighing scale went up each time I stood on it to measure my weight. When you felt hungry, I sensed a craving for food. I felt your kicks when you felt like stretching your tiny legs. I knew you could hear what I said with your little ears, and I learned you could touch my emotions with your tiny heart. You encroached on my heart in a way no one else had, and you made me regard the most potent human emotion: unconditional love. And from that day onwards, I have always felt myself racing against time, our time together. As though it was running out, slipping through my fingers like shifting sands. I wanted to keep you within me forever, safe, loved, cherished, and protected.

Then arrived the day when you decided that you now wanted to experience life with your own five senses and no longer through mine. You were so impatient that you arrived 45 days early. "Oh! You have given birth to a healthy, beautiful baby boy". I heard the doctor say with a half-conscious mind. I was still reeling from the aftermath of a natural birth. I had used up all my strength in bringing you into this world. Still, I could not stop the utter joy in my heart. I was yearning to hold you in my arms. I was still fragile then, but that did not prevent me from going up to peek at you. There you were, the most beautiful boy on earth. I wondered how I could have created someone so perfect in every way.

The months that followed were so blissful. The way your little fingers intertwined with mine. Holding you in my arms, feeling your soft skin against mine. Seeing you smile, cry, yawn, and wrinkle up your tiny nose in disgust. I was drinking up every emotion of yours. I wanted to etch the memory of your innocent expressions in my memory. I could gaze at you forever and ever. But sadly, time was running out.

Then came the first baby steps and the first time you called me “Mama.” The way my emotions would fluctuate within me in rhythm with yours. I dreaded the morning when I had to leave you, and I always looked forward to the evening when I would return home. I loved the way you came running and flung yourself into my arms so that I could embrace you and hug you with all my might. The joy on your face on seeing me. The sadness on your face when I left. 

Then, our escapades started. I took you everywhere with me. The feeling that you needed me was beautiful. I felt wanted and loved. You often said, "Mama, I will never leave you and go anywhere," I loved hearing that. I started accompanying you to your friends' parties as you grew up. We celebrated many of your birthday parties at home, inviting your friends. We went shopping, played computer games together, and watched all the latest animated movies in the theatre. We did enjoy hanging out and doing some of the craziest things together. You were like my little boyfriend accompanying me everywhere, and I never wanted this to get over. I tried to hold on to time with both hands, willing it to stop. But it was going faster than ever. 

You were growing up so fast. Slowly, the movies stopped. Your interests now lay elsewhere. One day, you said, " Mama, please don't hold my hand in front of my friends. It is embarrassing". I was so hurt. Tears pricked my eyes. How had my baby grown up so fast? I knew it was not your fault. You were just growing up. I still wanted to protect you. To make sure you were safe. I could no longer openly display my affection. I could not hold you in my arms or cuddle up to you. 

Soon, the time came for you to pursue graduation. Time to leave home. You were so excited and eager. I was very happy for you. But deep inside me was a gnawing. I counted the days leading to your departure. I would go to your room every morning and see you sleeping peacefully. You still looked like a small child, innocent and vulnerable. I dreaded the idea of you leaving. But I was careful not to display any emotions, lest I would end up dampening your spirits. I wanted time to stop, but it ran out faster than ever. Every minute with you now felt like borrowed time. The day did come, and you did leave. Days after you left, I missed you terribly. Each time I looked at your empty room, I would feel sad. I would go in and just sit there feeling your presence, your fragrance, and your precious smile. 

Today, I am 50, and you are 21 and in your third year of college. Each time you come home for holidays, I want to keep the clock from ticking as I feel myself racing against time. You are always busy with games, friends, and gadgets. But still, I cherish the days you are home. I can see you. I can run my fingers through your hair occasionally when you are asleep. I can gaze at you. I can make some of your favorite dishes. I can sense your emotions and know whether you are happy or sad. 

You are all grown up. But for me, you are still a child, my child. No matter how old you get, you will always be a child to me. As a mother, I cling to your clothes, toys, and books and to all the moments we spent together, emotions, worries, smiles, and tears. Even if I had spent all my waking hours in your company, I would still feel like I was racing against time. Our time together.