every day should be mother's day

To All Mothers

I think every day should be mothers day. I know you all agree with me and if you don't you will by the time you are done reading this.

As soon as you become a mother, it becomes your life, your everything. It becomes a full-time job for you. One you never get to retire from. A job that doesn’t pay yet so demanding.

Every day should be mother's day.

I started thinking about this and many more when my baby fell sick and we ended up at the children emergency unit.

Waiting for daybreak to rush him to the hospital was the longest wait of my life The thought of this particular emergency took me back to another experience in the same section some years back.

This time around I was on the bed.

I had just been hit by a truck. When I was brought in I saw my father, crying, tears were streaming down his face, which was just some inches away from mine.

When I first set eyes on my mother that day it was after they have cleaned my wounds. My elder sister was standing beside her. I was parched, and she was holding a bottle of water.

“Thank God,” I thought. Can I have some water?” she shook her head and patted my hand softly. I had never felt so thirsty.

“Please, I want to drink water”. She looked at my sister and shook her head.

“No, they said you can’t take anything.”

“But I am thirsty” I wanted to cry but couldn’t. I was so dry. I looked at her face then, because I had been staring at the bottle all along. She looked strange, old and haggard. I blinked to see her properly wondering why she suddenly aged like ten times over. Her eyes were dark and sunken. I wanted to ask her what happened to her but all that came out was, “just one sip, please.”

The doctor said no food or water. My mind refused to comprehend why she wouldn’t give me water or why I had to beg for it. The reality of my situation was lost to me. All I wanted was water. “Just one sip, I repeated and I promise I won't ask again”

She turned back to my sister. Then looked left and right. Why were they acting so strange and what was that weird halo around their heads? They seemed to be partly cocooned in a mist.

She opened the bottle, poured some in the lid and gave me to drink. Water had never tasted so sweet. “One more, please.” She paused for a bit then poured another and as she was about to put it to my mouth I heard the loudest noise ever.

“Mama!” her hand froze. What are you doing? Did you just give her water? Didn’t we say nothing must go in through her mouth? Are you trying to kill her? Aren’t you the mother, and you the sister? Get out, Now! Out!” She bellowed.

Why so much fuss over a tiny drop of water? I wondered. I was still very thirsty. I kept thinking about what was really going on as I was enveloped by the cloud of darkness again.

Sadly, I remember everything that happened those days. Now, I can’t imagine how my mother survived them. When she saw my blood draining every second, or my mangled leg, and my foot hanging by some shredded thread-like veins. Or when they told her to sign those papers.

When I kept begging her for water. How it must be tugging and twisting her heart. All through those traumatic days. I only saw her cry once. Just that one day when I couldn’t take it anymore and told her amidst tears that I was tired.

She held me in her arms, told me what would happen to her if I gave up. She said she was only able to hold it because I wouldn’t break down or fall apart.

Every time she comes in to see me, she comes in beaming with a smile. Although I could see the sadness behind those glassy eyes. I could sense when she had just finished crying.

Through it all, she was sturdy as a rock. I always wondered how she managed to keep everything together. I had fourth-degree perineal and virginal lacerations and fractured my pelvis and pubic bones. I couldn't sit for a very long time. And had faecal incontinence for long. She was my nurse. She did everything without complaints or showed any sign of exhaustion or frustration.

She is the best mother anyone could ask, hope or ever wish for. She is a warrior, a hero who never gets tired of fighting, who never put her sword down or ever retreat.

She doesn’t give up, never. So, as I sit with my son that day at the children Emergency unit, I picked my phone and called her. I knew she would be sleeping, but I had to call her to say thank you for all you are, Mother.

Then I asked her, How did you do it, mom? All those times, when I was admitted in the hospital, when I was always sick as a child and when we were going from one hospital to another looking for a solution to my back how did you cope? How were you able to keep going?

You are my child. There is no how you just do it.

“How are you never tired?” Because it is not a job. You don’t get tired of taking care of yourself. Your child is the biggest part of you, so you don’t get tired of caring for them.

I used to wonder why mothers don’t get tired or complain or even seek for gratitude or appreciation. It is because, doing it, being able to be a mom, to have a kid that call them mom, look up to them, depend on them for everything give them the greatest joy, biggest fulfilment, and the heartfelt gratitude no words can express.

So, to mothers who give all, who are all to their children, especially those living with physical challenges or have kids facing the same, every day is your day.

Every day should be a day we celebrate and appreciate you. To my mother and to all mothers and all women, all moms-to-be, I say happy mothers day to you. And remember you are loved beyond measures and appreciated for all you do.

May your children be an everlasting source of joy to you today and beyond.

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