The day I realized I was strong and vulnerable

The day I realized I was strong and vulnerable

Every mom knows that motherhood is a challenging journey. When I got my bundle of joy – my firstborn, in my arms, I just looked at him and thought, “How am I going to raise this little creature?” Being in a nuclear set-up, it was only the strong support of my husband that helped me sail through this journey.

Time went by and 5 years later I gave birth to the apple of my eye – my beautiful daughter. Just when I had settled down thinking that I will be raising one child – I suddenly had the challenge of raising two children. I didn’t want to do injustice to either child of mine.

Moms who are in nuclear family will agree that it’s so difficult at times to raise 2 small kids without any support. There are days when I would fall ill, and my husband would be out of station – travelling for work. By coincidence it would be during times like these that both my kids would fall ill simultaneously, and I would just want to say, “I give up! I can’t do this anymore.”

Also Read: How I reclaimed myself after postpartum depression – A True Story of a Mom

But, it is during such times that you have those defining moments in your parenting journey when you suddenly realize that you are much more capable and stronger than you think you are! Let me narrate one such incident that made me realize that I have more strength than I thought I did.

It was a rainy July evening. My husband had gone to Dubai for office work. My son was finishing his homework and my daughter was fooling around. My son was seven years old and my daughter was two. As it happens in any house with kids, toys were scattered around the floor.

I used to clear them up once my daughter was done with her playing. My daughter was drinking water from a glass and before I could realize she has spilled it on the floor. I went to get a cloth to soak the water up.

Suddenly, I heard a loud thud and my daughter’s cry. I ran to the room and saw that my daughter had slipped and fallen down. Hurriedly I took her in my arms, I saw that she was bleeding from her head. I looked around and saw that the edge of a broken toy had pierced her scalp.

I froze for a moment. The sight of blood from your child can make anyone go numb. But I couldn’t waste any more precious time. My son also got disturbed and wanted to come along with me. I calmly told my son, “Stay at home. Don’t go anywhere. I am going to the doctor.” It was 8:30 in the night. It was raining still. I got an auto, went to the doctor. Being a Saturday, there was a long queue, but there are good Samaritans everywhere. All the other parents saw that my daughter was bleeding and they allowed me to go in first.

Also Read: My Experience with Postpartum Depression

The doctor fixed the wound with two painful staples – Yes it was horrible to watch! I still get nightmares. He dressed it, gave medicine, and reassured that it wasn’t serious. Then only could I give a sigh of relief! I reached back home and my daughter had recovered a little by then. I laughed and played with both my kids – though I was still shaken – I didn’t let me children sense it. We had dinner and I put my kids to sleep.

As I shut their bedroom door I began to sob. And then, the dam broke – I cried inconsolably. I was shaken to the core. My biggest support, my hubby, wasn’t around too. I couldn’t show my fear in front of my little, already traumatized kids. I cried for some time and then I realized that I had been so strong that evening.

Mothers have to be strong. Life throws many situations where the mother cannot give up and she cannot break down. She has to fight, has to act wisely, has to use her presence of mind. Today my children are 15 and 10 years old, but that incident still haunts me. It was one of those incidents where I was both strong and vulnerable..but I pulled through only because for the sake of my little ones.

Also Read: Making the best of being a Stay At Home Mom

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The author of the article is Ritwika Roy Mutsuddi who is a Stay-At-Home Mom who enjoys writing.

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