There were two places I wanted to transport myself to on the day I found out I was going to become a mother - on the bed next to my mother, and at the Parenting section of my favourite bookstore on the corner.
I imagined myself taking notes and compiling them into a journal that read, “How To Become A Mother”.
I imagined curling myself on the bed next to my mother giggling our way until the sun came down, the same way like we did when I was back from college. Only this time finding myself sobbing my way instead into her embrace in between triggers of postpartum anxiety.
And I would read those parenting books by my window each time the sunlight rushed its way in perfectly onto the milk-scented dining table and then softly onto my skin. Only to be stopped short by a screaming baby and a toddler needing to rush to the loo. But I would wait for that sunlit moment again anyway.
And then I realized it wasn’t the notes from those parenting books that I followed much into my parenting journey anyway. It was those sunlight I was busy trailing. And the way those very same sunlight reflected in my daughters’ eyes.
And it wasn’t the notes I took from my mother about the way she used to put us to sleep. It was her embrace and all the love overflowing in it. And the way that same love was reflected in my daughters’ eyes.
And these are the two places I didn’t need to transport myself to. These are the two places that house a mother’s heart - love and light.
P/S - Happy Mother’s Day to my mama, and to everyone who has ever mothered in any way at all. Love and light.