All That I’ve Become

Motherhood. I never quite imagined the term applying to me. Somewhere down the distant path I could vaguely see a glimpse of cherubic faces, small hands clutching mine and wide, innocent eyes. I could picture Motherhood, in the same sense that you can imagine the taste of an unknown fruit by reading a description – you can compare, you can generalize but you can never truly know.

You can never imagine the raw mass of nerves and emotion that is now your heart. How it can physically swell to accommodate a love so vast and endless the phrase I’d give my life takes on new meaning. How every gesture – at first jerky, needy, then curious, now loving – can captivate you. The world can go on unnoticed as your entire being crystallizes on this moment, and you burst with pride, joy, love and fear.

And fear. Don’t get me started on the fear. The fear of the unknown. Of the world and all the evil in it. Every newscast becomes a real live horror story. Every child’s death, every torn child’s body sends me running to my son. To grasp his warm body tight, run my fingers over him whole, alive, complete. And the worry. The constant self-blame, second guessing and guilt. Am I doing this right? Am I nurturing/loving/stimulating (insert desirable characteristic here) enough?

All this and I’ve barely scratched the surface on my experience of Motherhood.

My son. Born September 17th 2012 at 1:56 am. Ibraheem. May Allah protect you, love.

Advertisements

3 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

3 responses to “All That I’ve Become

  1. Congratulations! Welcome to the club. 🙂

  2. Aw, he is lucky to have such a good mom!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s