For the Mother in all of us

In the middle of the night, when my children wake up yet another time exactly at the moment I had just drifted into sleep, I kiss each of them before I feed them. This is to remind myself that no matter how many thousands of time I have fed them, this one is still an act of love. It has to be the same calm for them as I would want if I was anxious. If I was anxious 50,000 times, I would want that calm those number of times, without questions or judgment. Talking about unconditional love is easy, providing it is an altogether different thing.

I don’t remember crying when my twins were taken out feet-first from my inside and placed on my chest. I remember feeling deflated. I remember being more curious than emotional, as if I knew them from so long and just had to see what they looked like. Like the latter wouldn’t even matter. Like a blind date in which we had talked to and known each other since decades together, ready to say a mother-kid form of ‘I do’.