I took a picture of this mug this morning; we bought it last weekend. I love it. It has the picture of an Afro’d lady and the inscription: I am worthy of my dreams. And I reminded myself how I wanted to live this well so Naa Ameley would be inspired to follow her own outrageous dreams, from the sheer fact that she was exposed to such an example.
Soon after I watched a random episode of “Friends” on TV where Rachel’s mother confessed to her daughter that she married a man she didn’t love but she, Rachel, her daughter escaped that. Naa Ameley was happily chomping away at my teat then.
And in that moment, I had this weird brief daydream of a worn-out Naa Ameley, tired of my follow-your-big-dreams mantras, confessing to me that she had no big dreams! She just wanted to get to the next thing (like the next day or the next pay cheque).
If that didn’t send a chill down my spine!
Not because not having massive dreams is scary. But because I suddenly realised that I could be the overbearing mother in pushing my children to follow their big dreams. Trying so hard to liberate them from what I sometimes (not all times, honestly, but sometimes) feel: stuck and not liberated, yet, to follow my crazy dreams.
Right after that, Naa Ameley threw up a little bit. Right in the middle of her breastfeed and in the middle of the “Friends” episode I was watching. Purely coincidental but it reminded me that we had given her some milk in a bottle earlier today, milk that had been sitting for a while because it was the remainder from her prior feed. Why? You may ask. Well, I ambitiously prepared too much for that bottle. And then, I just didn’t want to waste that excess, knowing money went into prepping it, in spite of the risk that it could be too stale. Can you imagine!
And if that didn’t give me another analogical moment, I’m not sure what could have. Lol.
Babies need milk, but stale milk, even if it’s unknowingly given, even if it’s lovingly given, can cause them to throw up down the line.
And then I thought, what a great moment to journal. And in writing this, it came to me:
I’d continue to be me. Perhaps that occurred to me because the other mug we bought had a different Afro’d lady and the inscription, “Be Yourself”. Yes, I’d be the mother I am and the mother I hope to be. And in this hope, I pray I listen to Naa Ameley and her siblings, and give them a safe space to be themselves too. And if they are motivated to chase their big dreams like I hope I keep doing, they won’t feel they were threatened to or manipulated to do so. They’d feel loved enough, and safe enough, and assured enough that I’d love them no less, and as human as I am, and that I’d do my best not to judge them or make them feel judged. I’d do my best not to selfishly force my own passion on them like stale milk, just because I have a lot of it.
Stale milk that hasn’t yet gone bad can be bad enough for my baby. In the same way, my hopes and dreams, which may or may not be relevant or whole even, would remain mine, and not automatically become theirs. And as their parent, I’d love to be the one to give them milk that’s good for them. Fresh milk. At the end of the day, if they throw it up somehow — because even well-meaning human beings are capable of such — I can sleep easy, knowing I tried.
Naa Ameley, I hope no matter how different we’d be, how differently we aspire to our dreams, big or small, I hope you won’t doubt I did my best to support you and love you. I’d do my best to give you fresh milk, always.
5:15pm
1st Baby Diaries || Tuesday, 1st February, 2022 || 2 calendar months, 7 days
No comments:
Post a Comment