No one can, or should attempt to dispute what mothers encounter throughout their tenure in their capacity as a mother. From the time the seed has been sown, the development of the foetus begins to occur, the confirmation is had, changes are already taking place within her. In some instances, there is glee, a euphoric excitement, the “cloud nine” moment. In other instances there is the trepidation, an uncertainty, a gripping terror. Still, otherwise, there is an utter rejection, and, or, dismissal of, refusal to embrace, immense anger at the reality. For these varying sentiments, and in such moments there are bound to be tears. The mother might have had to wade through her mind’s waters to determine how to move forward. And so….. the mother cries.
She cries because her many long months, years or trying to conceive has finally materialised. She cries because she may be on to something as she holds the card, or so she thinks, that would finally give that nod of approval to her beau, that would give her the upper hand in “keeping her man.” Whether whatever she believes is the truth about her and her situation, the tears will flow.
She cries on account of an immense level of anxiety brought about by that strange reality of understanding that another whole human is growing inside her, that she must of necessity, make adjustments, some or all of which she may be completely unprepared for, unable to navigate, or unwilling to take on. Her sobs are further fuelled by all the expectations that accompany being a mother from herself, as a result of family traditions and then, of course due to societal norms and moral codes. So yes, some weeping will take place.
She cries since the entire episode, the acts leading up to her pregnant state was not up to her. She had, unfortunately and in the most vile form being cruelly disgraced. Must she not now weep as a result of that imposition, that debauched infraction on her dignity? A mother will cry and be forced to come to terms with what decisions may ensue. The outcome of those decisions will affect her either way, even if the teardrops are slight and short-lived. Or, they may very well linger in another form.
If she continues through the trimesters and somewhere along the way an untimely falling off occurs, the mother will cry. It cannot be denied that a mother losing her baby via miscarriage, abortion or stillbirth is a trauma of great magnitude. While some mothers have not ever disclosed the emotions that waylay them on account of a miscarriage, many have openly expressed their utter hurt, disappointment, inadequacy and sense of helplessness when the child they had been carrying is no more. Many have slumped into depression, developed a hardness and cold glass barrier, or pretend that the entire phenomenon was not a bother. Whatever the display, the mother cries inwardly.
If the loss occurred through forced abortion, the mother will also cry. I myself have known of young women who had to undergo the horror of an abortion without their input because a parent, caregiver or sibling had made the decision. This happened, although the mother was old enough and mental capable of having a say in the matter. Most of those cases, were to “save face” on account of the person making the decision and not in the interest of welfare of the mother herself. Years later that mother still cries as she talks about what had happened to her.
A mother who loses her baby by means of stillbirth, whether that child died in the womb and had to be expelled in the normal labour fashion, or the stillbirth occurred during the labour process, is itself a traumatising event. The myriad of emotions that comes with the process is enough to cause floods of sobs and buckets of tears in huge volumes. Imagine a mother eagerly anticipating the birth of her young one only to be struck the blow of having a stillborn child. Wow! The mother cries!
And lest we forget the mother who cries for her child who has been kidnapped, it must be stated that this wicked act must be mentioned. The blow of it can well be compared to a miscarriage, since one experiences the wrenching away of a loved one not by her doing but from an outside source over which the mother had no control. The effect of this is harsh and persists for many years, causing the tears to be shed over and over again.
Then for those mothers who have been fortunate enough to give birth to her child without complications, seeing them through infancy, toddlerhood, childhood, teenage years, young adulthood and maturity, the tears are varied and many.
I can well picture my own mother as she herself would have undoubtedly shed numerous tears throughout her years of being a mother. Although I was nowhere around at the time, I can very well see her through my mind’s eyes. I am seated with her though the curtains are grey and shadowy. I see her weeping as she learns that she is pregnant, while in a foreign land where she migrated to obtain work and make a better living for herself as a young woman in her early twenties. I wonder what she went through, how she navigated the demands, expectations, disdain and insecurity around her and perhaps within her to fit in and be the best mother she could be. I see myself understanding her plight as I, a young “ancette tifille” in my early twenties waded through my own murky waters but with her right there beside me as a strong tower.
I see her some time later leaving that land, but leaving one of her children behind to return home. I see her crying inwardly for the toddler she left behind, wondering if she had made the right choice and if he would ever know what he meant to her. I see her having to deal with the accusations and irritations, annoyance and questions of his relatives, and weep with her because my heart would break to part with my little ones not knowing if I’d ever see them again. I see myself “walking in her shoes” as I appreciated the support she gave me with my little ones as I studied overseas away from them. I see her in another migratory move, getting away from Domestic Abuse and protecting her mental wellness. I seat with her through the slightly tinted curtains and feel the heaviness in her breathing, the lament in her voice as she thinks of her girls. I see her tears that she hides inside and applauds her actions for knowing when enough is enough. I thank her for letting me see that even when a mother cries, and her choices are few, she must know what to do to protect her mental wellness and emotional balance.
As the mother cries, I remember hearing how my mom grappled with the trauma of having a stillbirth. Her voice tells of that horrid day, the hours when she felt the urge and knew that her baby was on it’s way, but no one heeded her plea for help. I feel her agony as relives the encounter of the cord wrapped around his neck, wonders what he would be like and what she did wrong in causing his demise. I hear her message of always remembering the power of prayer even in the worst circumstances and remain grateful to her even among her tears.
Like the many mothers all over this globe who at times shed tears, sob, weep, cry, I can fully relate. We are sometimes overrun by situations, experiences , encounters and episodes. We want the best for our children. We try our best to make the right choices. The truth is that there will be times when we will fail. We are human. and while as women we are strong, purposeful and focused, we do not always escape the vulnerabilities that encompass us as mothers. So yes, it can be soooo much! And the Mother will cry!
The Mother Cries…..!
Garden Conversations with Roze 