Abir is lying on my lap. Since we have relocated to Mumbai almost every other week we are struggling with baby issues with this man. Last night he woke up because of reflux and threw up. He was so sleepy that he didn’t know what happened. We quickly cleaned him up, re made the bed, changed clothes, changed his soiled nappy and tried to all collectively slumber. It was quite hard with a sick baby.
It was hard to focus on work thinking of my little man at home. We went to the doctor this evening only to know that it is some infection which needed to be treated. So the poor chap has now had three shots of different looking and tasting medicines within the span of the last hour.
I was always the emotional fool. It doesn’t take much to bring tears to my eyes. Pretty much, the water works switches on. And with my loved ones, all the more. Having said this I can be strong as an of mentally when need be. Like once I saw that the little man is so super low I had to grit my teeth and pretend all was well and talk nineteen to the dozen to him and sing weird songs to entertain him and what not.
It me sound quite clichéd but I’d go to the moon for my son. And again another cliché. I know what a mother is and can be capable of for her child.
That makes me think of my mum. How hard it must have been for her to go. How she must have called for a strike action in heaven when she was seperated from her two babies.
It will be 30 years since she’s gone. Yet I feel the strong pull. How much I need her. Mum but I know you are near somewhere close. To me. Watching over us. Me and V. I mean how could you not be. Perhaps you were the soothing breeze when I sat forlorn on the beach one day after a bitter tiff with my best friend. Perhaps you were the calmness I felt when the obstetrician told me that we may have to do an emergency c section when I was in labour and Abirs heart rate fell. Maybe you were the force that descended upon me when the doctor said I have one last chance to push for a normal birth.
Perhaps you were the goosebumps I felt when I held a dirty little wrinkled stranger in my arms.
Perhaps you were the sound I always hear when I am at the beach. The sound of the sea that calms me so much.
Perhaps you are the presence I always feel when I am with Abir.
My heart soars with pride when I think about you and how I was borne of you. All the wonderful things people have to say about you.
The memories that are shared with me make you come alive. Alive and beautiful.
Love you amma. Miss you so much. The heartache refuses to go.