- On a mildly cold Sunday morning, I am in a tricycle and on my way to church. The driver stops briefly because a woman flagged him down. She rushes towards us, dragging her two kids along; they have to make it to church in time. She sat down and then lapped both of them, one on each leg. That simple 15 seconds threw me into a train of thought. It took me back to growing up; when it was just me, my mom would lap me. When my sister came, she would lap us both just like that woman, and when my youngest sister came, we both lapped one of them. Where am I going with this? All these things are just means of saving money while still getting the job done.
The whole thing just got me thinking of our parents and the silent sacrifices they make just so we can be okay.
I’ll be talking about mothers because, as much as our fathers play a very crucial role in our upbringing and training, they mainly tend to work in the background, so it feels like our mothers do it all. Not invalidating the father’s place in the family, but if we’re being honest, the main things that we see are still done by our mothers. Bathing us, feeding us, cooking, cleaning, and teaching us how to also do those same chores. To put it another way, bring out the best in us and give us the best they can afford.
If only we knew half the sacrifices they make for us without thinking twice. Unconditional love. It takes me back to the story of how Lily Potter’s love was the only thing that could counter Voldemort’s dark magic. She sacrificed herself to save her son, Harry. The best thing in the world has to be a mother’s love. Unrequited love.
Often times, I think about it, and it’s all rosy in our imaginations, but one thing I’m very scared of is doing this parenting thing wrongly. I mean, there are a lot of good days and bad days. Frustrating and infuriating. How do they manage not to lose it at times? They do all this without asking for anything from us, except good grades. Imagine that being the reward for all your efforts and sacrifices. It sure is comforting to know that all you do is not a waste.
It’s not like parents who had it somewhat easy aren’t appreciated. I know of a family that had four nannies, one for each child. Of course, she can’t relate to some of the stress and trials of life that come with motherhood, but she definitely did her fair share.
Motherhood is an insane bond. I remember an exam I wrote months ago. I was talking about surrogate mothers and single parenting. We were to either support or oppose. I spoke about how motherhood starts in the womb. If there is anything harmful happening, a mother’s first instinct is to protect her unborn baby. There’s this sense of responsibility, and motherhood instincts that kick in immediately, and from that moment onward, she thinks of her child before anything. Anything at all. And everything she does or doesn’t do is because of that child. The bond starts with being literal, and that’s why, even though it’s just a job, a lot of surrogate mothers have problems leaving the child despite the several contracts and documents that they signed. It’s not out of entitlement, but commitment and connection. In situations where it’s absolutely necessary, why not? But if the only reason you’re getting a surrogate mother is to keep your perfect figure, sorry to say, but reconsider motherhood because you’re not ready for the real sacrifices to be made.
Talking about single parenthood, the place of a father in the family can’t be replaced. And most definitely not by a macho woman, no matter how well she seems to be doing the job. The way, biologically, a child is made up of 50% of both parents is the same way; physically, the child needs 50% of both parents, irrespective of how the responsibilities are shared. Even plants in the desert still need a modicum of water to grow. It’s the same for the family. The mother might seem like she’s doing the most as far as eyes see, but to our underappreciated soldiers, I say, Salute.
I was talking about how the ‘poor’ aren’t better parents, but honestly speaking, they make more sacrifices. It is simply tougher. Some, like mine, work two jobs and endure life in general, all because of these children.
Seeing it sometimes makes my heart bleed, and I just say a silent prayer for them. All these efforts must matter in the end, dear God. Please, God, let them reap the fruits of these laborious efforts. The sigh of relief and the smile on their faces are just enough to make me want to make them proud. They really can’t be appreciated enough, and it doesn’t take just being a woman to be a mother; the job description is a lot different.
I was sick a couple of weeks back and I still had to prepare lunch for my grandpa despite having to hold things in the kitchen so I won’t fall. It was that bad and I still had to prepare the meal. I was telling a friend that “now I know what it feels like to be a mother”.
I wish we, as children, could be more appreciative of our parents. I see people on the street with ashy feet, stress-beating faces, hung shoulders, and beads of sweat on their foreheads, and they are simply unfazed. I just pray they live to see the reward of their labor. I just hope the children they are doing all these things for, make it worth it.
I know we are doing our best, but we can definitely do better. There are little ways to show them that we appreciate all they do.
Truly, Ìyániwúrà, and mine is literal.
