Emotions and the Words that Comfort

The Butterfly’s third birthday has come and gone in a whirl of wrapping paper, balloons and smiles. Again the Mauritian and I were faced with the problem of what not to buy for her birthday. We were very proud of the fact that we only walked out the shop with two books, a cordless microphone, a small tub of “Play Dough” and of course the next addition to her collection of “In the Night Garden” toys. It seems almost unreal now that only three years ago, after a sleepless night the Mauritian and I were heading off to the hospital to finally welcome our daughter into this crazy messed up world. But three years ago it was that this stubborn, bright and beautiful bundle came into my life screaming, red faced and indignant.

For the past three and a bit years now she has done or said something every day that has had some sort of effect on me. For the past three and a bit years I have been floating on a bubble of pride about this little miracle, who is a part of me. Every day I look at her reminds me of what the Mauritian said the moment she was born, he tapped my shoulder in excitement saying “Look Manth, we did it!” who would have thought this screaming red face wrinkled stranger could be responsible for this overwhelming emotion that I have felt for her every moment since. Whew! Some days it just does not seem possible!

A few days ago I finally got a chance, via “MSN” to have a “catch up chat” with my favourite Eeyore. Reading what she said about my new niece and the roller coaster of emotions she experiences every day reminded me of how I felt, even now. Eeyore spoke about how she gets so mad and irritated because “Sprout” just will not co-operate and then that sudden smile melts her heart. I remember those days so clearly when you’re delirious with lack of sleep, when you want to just give her to someone else, when you just want to send her back because there is no way you will ever cope with this. I remember just collapsing on the floor in a heap sobbing with exhaustion after almost thirty six hours of no sleep, the Butterfly had been crying for most of those thirty six hours and I was now no longer capable of anything. I lay on that floor sobbing and begging her to stop crying and begging God to take her back when I suddenly realised the only one crying was me! The Butterfly was happily cooing and smiling at “Fred” that made everything alright and the past thirty six hours dissolved into nothingness. I get so crazy mad with the Butterfly sometimes that I want to scream with rage, I’m happy to report, however, that I don’t. I often don’t even get a chance to because, when I come into the kitchen and she’s sitting on the kitchen floor with the tub of yoghurt and her paint brush painting my stove with said yoghurt, she says: “Mummy can I have a hug?” and then she smiles. I am incapable of yelling at that smile and she knows it!

Now I know why my father told me “Grandchildren are a Grandparent’s revenge!” Perhaps one day I too will have my revenge!
Until then I shall take comfort and guidance from the words of Kahill Gibron:

“And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, Speak to us of children.

And he said:

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls’

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
Which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backwards, nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

The Archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the Archer’s hand be for gladness;

For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.”
(Quoted from “The Prophet”)