by Sumana Roy Chowdhury
Six years ago my son was born and ever since my life has changed in a way that I couldn’t have imagined possible. Caring for a small life is a responsibility that one can never be prepared or trained for and everyday continues to be a learning experience. Everyone I meet tells me that I am privileged to be a mother and I whole-heartedly agree with them. However, one side to motherhood that few discuss is the fact that one has to be on the clock all through the day and night, every single day with no vacations, paid or unpaid. In the initial few months it was always my husband or some other family member calling out to me with “Mamma, someone needs you…” and I would immediately drop whatever I was doing to attend to this “need,” however big or small it was. Make no mistakes – I recognize that it is in some ways an honour to be needed in this way but the reality is that it is also extremely draining. It seems as though it’s always “Mamma” and no one else, and there were times when I used to feel a small tinge of irritation coupled with the inevitable feeling of guilt that followed.
Days turned in to months and then years; the needs have changed, but still remain. There is always an emergency; a chocolate wrapper to be unwrapped or an unseen fear to be chased away at any hour of the day or night.
A jolt to this idea came one night when I lay asleep and was awoken by the gentle creak of the bedroom door opening. I kept my eyes closed, held my breath and pretended to be asleep, hoping that he would go away, but he calls out to me all the same.
“Mamma?” he said in a loud whisper.
“What?” I whispered back, “Go back to bed.”
“I love you,” he said, before scampering back to his room.
As I saw his retreating back I suddenly realized with a pang that he looked taller than he had the day before. At the same moment I also realized that there will soon come a day when he will not need me anymore.
Although that day seems far away today, I know that it will be here all the same. There will be a time in the not-too-distant future when my child will grow into a rebellious teenager and bring along other yet-unforeseen parenting challenges. Soon enough those days will pass; my baby will grow up in to a man and be long gone and busy with his own life. I may sit alone in some assisted living facility watching my body fade away. No one will need me then. I may even be a burden. He may come visit, but my arms will no longer be his safe refuge; my kisses no longer his cure. There will be no more tiny shoelaces to tie or bedtime stories to be read, or possible teenage angst to pay heed to. There will be no more bags to pack or pencils to sharpen or assignments to be done. I will finally be off the clock but something tells me that at that time my heart will yearn to hear the voices calling out to me, “Mamma, someone needs you!”
