Mother

Mother’s Love

When my first son was born I was seventeen and a half.  I had got married the year before, but we had not meant to start a family so quickly.  My young husband, who was only a year older than me said not to worry, we would manage.  His parents loved children and would be delighted to help us take care of a little one.  Really taking care of the baby didn't worry me too much - it was the lack of love that I felt for the life inside of me that was my main concern.  My husband's mother said that the day her first son was born was the happiest day of her life and she had loved him so much that she thought her heart would burst.  Nine years later, she had lost a second child after just a couple of days and even though the baby had died, her love for him had lived on.  She kept his memory in her heart and thought about him every day. Now another baby was soon to enter her life and I knew she would love it dearly.

Several months passed slowly, mainly filled with backache and morning sickness and nothing changed.  I felt no love for the soon-to-arrive baby, just indifference.  The only reason I wanted  the baby to hurry up and be born was because of my own physical discomfort.  Then one night I had a dream, it was so vivid that I can remember it until this day.  In the dream the baby was already born and I was holding it in my arms and I felt such overwhelming love for this little child that I never wanted to let it go.  I just wanted to hold it forever so that the feeling never went away.  From that day until my son was born, I thought about the dream a great deal.  I wondered if I would feel that intense love for him as soon as he was born and I held him in my arms.  I was shocked to find that it didn't happen.  Really, I felt nothing for him at all.

True to their words, my husband's parents and my own mother and grandmother doted on my little boy.  He was beautiful and had a sunny disposition.  One day, not long after his second birthday, I was holding him on his rocking horse when I realised that I loved this little boy.  Infact, I loved him so much I couldn't imagine ever being away from him.  I tried to think when it had happened, but couldn't pinpoint a day, then I remembered the dream.  Love for him has filled my heart ever since, although he is grown up now with a family of his own.  

Eighteen years later, and as unexpectely as the first time I found myself once more expecting a baby.  This time, from the moment the doctor confirmed I was going to have a baby, I loved him intensely, and my love for him has grown and grown.  He is fifteen now and on the verge of becomming a man. Although all of the people that rallied round when my first son was born are no longer alive, I know they would all be thrilled about another boy to love - but they would have had no need to worry because I love him enough for all of us.