Darwin and motherhood

Darwin and motherhood

Today I had my lunch in the kitchen. I sat on the floor, chewed slowly as little Ri lay in the crib, screaming her lungs out. When I was nearly done, she was whimpering softly. Five more minutes and she’d be knocked out, so I sat quietly, sipping on my water, not moving. Silence. I could hear myself breathing. Something I sometimes forget the sound of.

Being a mom is probably a lot similar to being a prison guard. After a while, you get so thick-skinned that the screaming doesn’t really get to you anymore. I remember the time I took Ri for her first ever vaccination and how she howled till she turned into a strawberry and I cried silently all the way back home. I now think back and laugh at the new mom that I was- brimming with so much tenderness, not wishing her to ever be upset.

Darwin was right. It won’t be the smartest or strongest that will survive, but those who can adapt the fastest. This is the mantra I have lately found to be most useful in my life. Evolution is important for every mother. It helps us draw lines and raise resilient children.

So grow an armor. And waterproof it, so the pouring tears bounce off and don’t seep in.

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