Motherhood
is a blessing, true enough, but more blessed I feel are those who are able to sail smoothly through the initial formative years of parenting. In our side of the world the common belief is that, in giving birth to a child a woman is born again. And really, after having two kids of my own today, I completely stand by this belief.
Right from the day the little life sprouts inside you, to the day of the life excruciating labor pains, after which your bundle finally is in your arms, there is lot of change that a woman goes through, most of it physical change and nowhere less than that, is the emotional change.
With your body bloating each passing day and your hormones running havoc with your emotions, you try to appear as normal, glowing, healthy and calm outside as anyone possibly can, when one is battling with queasiness, nausea, vomiting, hunger pangs, ophthalmic and taste disorders, morning evening and anytime sickness and so much more on a daily basis.
Not that there are no exceptions to this. Yes, there are some lucky few with whom nature is ever so partial that they experience no such thing as nausea and eat their way through the nine months to finally deliver a baby as chubby as a stuffed toy. But needless to say I was not to be the chosen one. I vomited right through both my pregnancies, till the end and even after my babies were born, defying the popular belief that when you have a baby girl you vomit more and when you have a boy, the nausea is not there. I have both, a five year old daughter and a nine month old son.
Despite the nausea and other problems, all through my first pregnancy I was eagerly waiting for my baby to be born. With each passing day I grew closer to my little one, with emotions soaring high and many thoughts coming in my mind. It was on one such day that I wrote this poem which I’d like to share today. The poem is titled “Hands”.
“From the moment you take your little form,
There are hands around, waiting for you to be born,
Hands that you’ll come across all your life,
Of parents, relations, friends and foes alike,
There’ll be hands that’ll bring you into this world,
Wrap you and give you Mom’s lap to curl,
Hands that’ll lift you up in pride,
Yes that’s Dad with his eyes wide,
Hands that’ll touch and feel you in surprise,
and those that’ll show you around like a prize,
Hands that’ll hold you tight in their arms,
And hands that’ll give you all their warmth,
Hands that’ll pamper arms open wide,
Those wrinkled hands would always be ready to guide,
Hands whose fingers you’ll hold and walk,
Hands to pin up that stray lill’ lock,
Hands that’ll lull you bye to sleep,
Hands to wipe off the tears when you weep,
Worldly matters some hands would teach,
Difference of good and bad others would preach,
Some hands would greet you always as a friend,
and others would betray you before the game ends,
With some before touching a bond will form,
and with others in a flicker the touch would be gone,
When through all this mayhem of hands you’ll pass,
To finally grow up and walk your chosen path,
There would still be my child our hands to bless and pray
So that you too become a ‘hand’ tomorrow,
In your own world, in your own special way!
I guess this is what we all wish for our children one way or the other. The joy of having children and being parents is beautiful beyond words. It is a feeling which needs no words to explain, only experience to understand.
is a blessing, true enough, but more blessed I feel are those who are able to sail smoothly through the initial formative years of parenting. In our side of the world the common belief is that, in giving birth to a child a woman is born again. And really, after having two kids of my own today, I completely stand by this belief.
Right from the day the little life sprouts inside you, to the day of the life excruciating labor pains, after which your bundle finally is in your arms, there is lot of change that a woman goes through, most of it physical change and nowhere less than that, is the emotional change.
With your body bloating each passing day and your hormones running havoc with your emotions, you try to appear as normal, glowing, healthy and calm outside as anyone possibly can, when one is battling with queasiness, nausea, vomiting, hunger pangs, ophthalmic and taste disorders, morning evening and anytime sickness and so much more on a daily basis.
Not that there are no exceptions to this. Yes, there are some lucky few with whom nature is ever so partial that they experience no such thing as nausea and eat their way through the nine months to finally deliver a baby as chubby as a stuffed toy. But needless to say I was not to be the chosen one. I vomited right through both my pregnancies, till the end and even after my babies were born, defying the popular belief that when you have a baby girl you vomit more and when you have a boy, the nausea is not there. I have both, a five year old daughter and a nine month old son.
Despite the nausea and other problems, all through my first pregnancy I was eagerly waiting for my baby to be born. With each passing day I grew closer to my little one, with emotions soaring high and many thoughts coming in my mind. It was on one such day that I wrote this poem which I’d like to share today. The poem is titled “Hands”.
“From the moment you take your little form,
There are hands around, waiting for you to be born,
Hands that you’ll come across all your life,
Of parents, relations, friends and foes alike,
There’ll be hands that’ll bring you into this world,
Wrap you and give you Mom’s lap to curl,
Hands that’ll lift you up in pride,
Yes that’s Dad with his eyes wide,
Hands that’ll touch and feel you in surprise,
and those that’ll show you around like a prize,
Hands that’ll hold you tight in their arms,
And hands that’ll give you all their warmth,
Hands that’ll pamper arms open wide,
Those wrinkled hands would always be ready to guide,
Hands whose fingers you’ll hold and walk,
Hands to pin up that stray lill’ lock,
Hands that’ll lull you bye to sleep,
Hands to wipe off the tears when you weep,
Worldly matters some hands would teach,
Difference of good and bad others would preach,
Some hands would greet you always as a friend,
and others would betray you before the game ends,
With some before touching a bond will form,
and with others in a flicker the touch would be gone,
When through all this mayhem of hands you’ll pass,
To finally grow up and walk your chosen path,
There would still be my child our hands to bless and pray
So that you too become a ‘hand’ tomorrow,
In your own world, in your own special way!
I guess this is what we all wish for our children one way or the other. The joy of having children and being parents is beautiful beyond words. It is a feeling which needs no words to explain, only experience to understand.
