“Poisoned tipped claws“
For as long as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to be a mother. Girls grow up with aspirations to find a prince, to get married and then to become mothers. Of course to thereafter live blissfully and happily ever after….
And as little girls play together, an argument always ensues about who will get to play the mummy! For little girls it is thee ultimate role…..
” But you’re always the mummy Zeenat! I want to be the mummy this time!”, my sister would say.
But she would rarely have her way. Each time that we played with our teddy bears and dolls,I threw a fit or a tantrum and I would make sure that I got my way. I would be the mummy to the 7 teddy bears lined up on our bed…..
Maybe its a hidden chip placed within each female…..
Maybe we’re incomplete without being needed….
Is it because we are created with so much love that it just wants to burst out of us, to overflow and to smother those around us?
Perhaps for some… but for Yusuf and I it wasn’t as easy as I thought being a mother would be…..
When I reached that plateau of getting that which every girl chases after and seeks; a husband, a home and a family, it was nothing like I envisioned it would be and all that I could think of doing was turning around and climbing back down.
So that’s exactly what I did, most days and most nights. I allowed the effects of post natal depression to claw deep into me, deeper than a scalpel through flesh. I relished in the effects of its poison tipped claws and I allowed my flesh to bleed while I lay there crying hopelessly.
With all the help and support around me, that of my family, that of my husband and of my husband’s family, I could afford to run away within my mind and cower behind the dark silhouettes of confused shadows as I pulled the sheets over my head. I was content there and I didn’t want anyone to look for me……
I did not want to see Yusuf, or to nurse him, I didn’t even want to love him. Those around me left me to be. They took charge of my baby while I allowed my depression to take charge of me.
I would hear the regular chimes of his cries; his cry to be fed, his cry to be cleaned of a soiled nappy, his cry to be held, his cry to be loved and I would turn the other way as someone else went to tend to the needs of the life that had grown within me.
Perhaps he just cried for me….
Lost and alone, wanting to see and to be with his mother. To smell her, to taste her, to simply feel her presence… But I was oblivious to his beautiful calling to me and instead I turned around and went back to bed…
Days turned into weeks, then weeks turned into months. Light turned into darkness and the darkness became darker and darker still.
I went through the moments because I had to. I refused to speak to anyone about my depression. I refused to let my husband help me, to let him love me, to let him look into my eyes like he used to. I was ashamed that he would hate me if he saw what lay behind the emptiness there within. He wouldn’t love me like he does, and I wondered; does he even love me anymore? I wasn’t behaving like a mother! I wasn’t even behaving like a wife! If he does still love me then how can he?
My husband is the most amazing person that I have known. He would see to little Yusuf as soon as he got home from work and when he wasn’t home, he would appoint someone to see to me and to Yusuf.
” She needs time”…. I heard him telling his mother.
” Let her be, she’ll come around eventually”….
When I think about it now, I realize that my needs were more demanding and unbearable than those of my Yusuf! I was a grown woman with health, with love, with every tool one could be in need of to build a beautiful life but I was content to sit there in the darkness and watch the blazing fire eat away at the garden of my beautiful home without flinching, without attempting to stop it! How pitiable I was yet how amazing Allah had created my husband to see to two lives with special needs…. Alhamdulillah…..
Yusuf was growing despite the lack of my efforts, he was growing without me. He didn’t need me it seemed and we never need any person to grow, to live and to prosper. All that we (ever) need to make it anywhere is Allah.
I can’t say that I didn’t love him for I think that every mother loves her child within, whether she shows it or not. I just did not act out that love. I was too consumed with staring at the grey clouds above me that I couldn’t see that just behind those clouds, the sun was begging to come out!!!
It was when Yusuf was about four months old that my life changed, that I changed.
He lay in his crib looking at the mobile of little animals floating above his head…
I don’t know what took me to his room that day, I just suddenly found myself standing there, looking down at him….
His eyes shifted around him as he scanned his surroundings. He looked at me with his almond shaped eyes and for a few moments, as our eyes met, the world stopped and the seconds were halted. Time stood still for us…
The warm golden sun fell onto his face adding golden hues to the pink of his rose kissed cheeks. The light filtered through his eye lashes and I was drowning, falling into the well of his brown eyes. It was like being pulled in, drawn into him…. I was caught off guard…. My eyes would not close to blink, my nostrils would not draw in a fresh breath…
We were two souls suspended in the air, meeting as if for the first time, acknowledging and assessing who the other was. He held my gaze silently for a few moments, not moving, not blinking either and then…..
He let out an intoxicating smile, swallowing me within his aura.
I was taken….
I was his….
The sun broke through the grey clouds….
I was in love from that moment on.
He ignited the small flickering flame that burned dimly within me, that of a mothers affection for her child. When I saw his expression upon looking at me, I was blown away. Its was as if he just knew me.
But how could he know me?
Who told him about me?
I had hardly had any contact with him!
Surely he couldn’t know me! Surely he couldn’t love me….
But he did love me and I guess that’s what unconditional love is……
To be continued…
By now you would have placed the pieces of the puzzle together….
You would have placed the title next to its correct persona….
And although this is a tale about love, it has nothing to do with what you at first imagined….
And so I wonder….
How many people gave up on me just by reading the title. Thinking that this is another scandalous story about someone’s secret rendezvous? And so they didn’t bother to read it because it was wrong and promoted the wrong ideology! They never thought for a second what if, per chance, they took some lesson from it.
And how many people read part one and then part two licking their lips in anticipation of what would happen next then deserting the story altogether as the plot had nothing to do with what they assumed. It had nothing to do with a roving husband or a cheating wife!
How sad for both the above mentioned groups of people….
Some have judged me without even giving me a chance to show them that Prince Charming was someone’s son…
While some had judged the story and then abandoned it when I didn’t serve up something as enticing as “ how did I get into this mess!”
Do they not know and not see that there are different types of relationships, different kinds of love stories, all stitched together with different threads of pain?
But if you are reading this then it means that you’re still here and for that I want to say thank you…
Thank you for reading the story just because….
because I wrote it….
because u know me….
because u don’t know me but still u liked it…
thank you for feeling the emotions and responding…..
Thank you from me, from her and from him (*yusuf)
* yusuf is not his real name