I’ve always had some sort of vague idea what society wanted of me. That is getting married, degrees, holidays, a mortgage. And having kids, of course.
Back in 2010 when I was 15 years old, I had a Geography class about this topic in particular. It’s a sunny afternoon and our conversations are cut short by a question from our teacher Miss Tierney.
“How many kids do you see yourself having in the future?
The question is met by eagerness from a few of my mates, Indian and Nepalese girls who were, like me, conditioned from birth to ponder this question. My own name, chosen by my Mother when she found out I was a girl, means Loving to her Husband.
“Two, one boy and one girl Miss”
That’s the general consensus among the class, two kids are perfect. Enough to fulfil a hole, with the possibility of having your old life back at some point. It’s always been drilled into us just how time consuming having children was. How taxing it would be on our physical and mental health.
Following this discussion, Miss Tierney brought up a slide about the average size of families in the West which have been reducing since the 1940s. Many reasons go into this, though Miss Teirney focuses on a particular one. Women focusing on careers rather than having families, which means by the time they want more kids it’s “too late” and far too “inconvenient”
Unlike my Nepalese and Indian friends, I didn’t plan specifically when I would get married or have kids. But like many others, I had a rough timeline.
“24, what a big age!” I would think to myself. If I’m not married with kids by then, that would be tragic.
This year, 2019, was my 24rth year on this planet. At this point who wouldn’t love a full circle story about how I am now with child, alongside my chiselled husband, together doing up power couple.
What once was a year so far away that I could set impossible standards for my future self, is reality. Today, instead of focusing on kids and husbands, I give my entire attention to what I want to do with my own life. A question that has become only slightly answerable as the years have flown by.
One word to describe this year would be consistency, something that has accompanied the corporate world I have resided in for much of the year. I feel like I have run away from myself, a former self that craved the freedom of freelance and part time jobs. Jobs that didn’t stop me from daydreaming about the next project I would work on. And now, I am here in a shiny glass coffin of sorts, planning my escape before complete suffocation.
I have gotten comfortable.
Fear has taken over.
It is only now in the last few weeks of the year, after an audition that I felt my old self knocking on the door, waiting to step in. I want to let her in, and perhaps this new year will provide me with the tools.
When I’m having a hard time, I try to remember this picture of me in Year 3. I have a yellow polo on, two plaits that go to my shoulders, alongside a dodgy fringe I cut that morning. My goofy smile is characterised by a slight gap tooth that I show proudly to the photographer alongside my signature chubby cheeks. I don’t quite know what it is but looking at that picture calms me down. Maybe it’s thinking about how far I’ve come or of me just as a bigger version of that same kid. It’s humbling, and if only for a moment, my strange egotistical goals and aspirations are replaced by gratefulness for all that has surpassed, and what is to come.
In this moment lies the magical meditative quality of being present; a quality that has, somewhat ironically, been provided by my younger self. It is this realisation that allows me to trust myself and the journey in a wider sense, no matter what lies beyond the horizon.
I hear your arrival will be extraordinary, completely incomparable to anything that has preceded. Like that picture of me in Year 3, it is the thought of one day introducing you to the world and its magic that propels me to go forth. I wish to curate an accepting and loving home, one that you will feel blessed to be a part of. This requires a dedication to learning all I can from this life, so that one day I can pass it all onto you. So you are able to be yourself in this world, so you give generously, love deeply and in abundance as a result. I don’t have the timeline, not even a rough draft at this point though I am content.
I have given into the tide of life.
I can’t wait to meet you, to know you and learn with you. To hold you close and let you go when the time is right. Until then, I will continue the journey for the both of us.
With love, Mama.
