I hadn’t given a lot of thought to the kind of parent I would be before Samaira was born. I was hoping that I would be a good mom, and my lack of over-enthusiasm on seeing a baby wouldn’t come in the way of me loving mine. But it is probably safe to assume that I would have been a typical mom with typical joys, and typical worries of “oh why is she not smiling yet”, or “why is she not sitting yet”, or “why is she not crawling yet”, or “why is she not talking yet”, or “why is she not walking yet.” The innate tendency to look around and compare would have definitely caught my usual, albeit, darker side. But Samaira’s diagnosis has put some sort of a reset button on what could have been, and I haven’t spotted myself comparing her…in real sense. I have learnt to enjoy Sam for who she is, and only for who she is.
My normal has shifted.
Normal is not something I had dreamt of necessarily, I had just assumed that would happen. So, it is not as if something I had dreamt of did not happen. It was just something I had assumed did not happen. That I think has been the biggest adjustment on my part. When something you assume, take so matter-of-factly, don’t even imagine any other way – does not happen – there is an automatic reset button of sorts that triggers. This change in perspective can only happen if you are in special situation. There is absolutely (maybe, almost) no other way you will have this perspective.
I sometimes think about what I want for Samaira anyway. And then I realize. It doesn’t matter what I want. I may want her to be someone, to do something, to have certain things – and really, it doesn’t matter. I sound like I am giving too much into “I can’t control it” sentiment. I see it more as “just be” sentiment. I strive to provide the best opportunities for Samaira. But do I strive to get perfection and the best as output from her? Not really. Not even close. Do I want Samaira to be happy and have a good quality of life? Sure I do, knowing very well that it is yet another want that I won’t be able to guarantee for Samaira. Do I want her to be happy? Sure I do, again knowing that there is no way to guarantee that.
We have had lots of tears and lots of laughters. These days when I tear up, I don’t really know why. Is it because of the shifted normal, or because of my non-desire for the best or perfection? Or is it because I cannot guarantee a certain output for Samaira? I don’t really know. Being a parent is so much about acceptance. Sort of unconditional acceptance. If you cannot do it – it is your own loss – because everyone else will be just fine.
Samaira is not, as they say, a typical child…and I am not a typical mom…and we are not a typical family. And it is all good.
Just promise me happy, and I won’t bother with perfection :).