There's a truism - "A crying baby is the mother's" - and families seem to follow it without any thought for the mother, who's also her own person. But who cares?
There’s a truism – “A crying baby is the mother’s” – and families seem to follow it without any thought for the mother, who’s also her own person. But who cares?
A friend recently put up a blurred picture of a mother walking around in a restaurant, trying to entertain her baby. Apparently she was away from the table for the entire duration of the meal while the remaining family was at the table laughing away, enjoying theirs.
Does this dynamic represent those within every family? No. Does this mean that every mother single handedly bears the burden of child care? No.
But the reality is that there are enough cases even within urban and semi urban families, not just rural ones, where all eyes and expectations are turned on the mother.
More than the physical burden, my friend was trying to highlight the mental implication of this solitary process. There are millions of women worldwide who suffer from post part depression. I too went through it. And this, despite still having a job to go back to, stellar support from my parents who I had moved to stay with at the time, very helpful in-laws and my poor husband who drove 400 kms back and forth every weekend just to be with us.
I don’t think feeling lonely is singularly subject to the number of people around you. You can have 15 people milling around you in a joint family and still feel like you are on your own island.
The most disconcerting thing I remember about that terrible phase was one particular afternoon, in the middle of a reunion of sorts where my entire family, with their families, possible 25 of us had come together to celebrate the arrival of my little daughter. And all I felt, sitting amongst the very people who make me whole and complete, was an utter sense of despair and loneliness. I couldn’t connect to the conversations and visited the washroom very often to shed tears for reasons I couldn’t even fathom!
I often think about how privileged we are that in this country, we can still assume it is our right to depend on the army of nana nanis and dada dadis to help us raise our children. Something I’ve heard is acutely lacking as an assumed support system in the west, and even within Indian families settled in the west.
But there needs to be more awareness towards the needs of the caregiver and not just the tiny ward. ‘Handling the baby’ helps. But talking to the mother, encouraging her to take some alone time, a walk, a shower, having interesting discussions about the world beyond the crib, talking about reintegration post maternity breaks, helping her figure out how to manage life and emotions incase she is returning to work helps her deal with the tide of hormones and the faceless and nameless monsters that form in the head when there is so much change and uncertainty.
The solutions might sound simplistic but they will go a long way towards ensuring that the nurturer feels nurtured as well.
I feel women have some innate qualities that make them empathetic and natural caregivers. Towards children, husbands, parents, people working with them, the world in general. But when that sincerity and indulgence gets taken for granted, neither does it feel good, nor can it be sustained without puncturing the mind and soul of the one who is making it all happen.
Roles of women and resulting expectations won’t change over night. But a little bit of sensitivity and understanding is the least we all deserve, irrespective of gender.
A version of this was first published here.
Image source: shutterstock
After chasing criminals as a journalist and spending over a decade in advertising, Richa penned a book of poetry titled A penchant for Prose. She has been a TOI Write India top 10 winner and read more...
Women's Web is an open platform that publishes a diversity of views, indivisual posts do not necessarily represent the platofrom's views and opinions at all times.
Stay updated with our Weekly Newsletter or Daily Summary - or both!
Falling in love, marriage, a hidden secret, divorce. Despite all this, Vinita noticed her life was full of love that came in various unexpected shades!
“Aap jinke kareeb hotey hain, woh badey kush naseeb hotey hain…”
Just as Vinita was settling down into the cab seat, the driver put on music and the song started to play. It took her back immediately to that evening ten years ago, when Gautam had sung that very same song to her on the first evening they had met. She could remember every single detail of that evening so very clearly.
The driver obliged and immediately stopped the bus for them. Many men got down. They shamelessly lined up just by the side of the bus and peed on the other side of the road.
I work in Pune. My family lives far away from me in a small town along the coast of Konkan. I get to meet them once every fortnight for which I have to take a nine-hour long overnight bus journey.
As mothers, we aim and dream about raising confident children who are successful, talented, and well-behaved. Here is what it needs!
All these dreams take shape even before we have laid eyes on that little bundle of joy or realized that we haven’t thought about the many steps that come before achieving that goal. In fact, we have no idea about what it takes to raise a child.
The Let Down, which premiered on Netflix takes you on a roller coaster ride while capturing the woes of motherhood.
If you are a new mother and are browsing Netflix and hit upon the show called, The Let Down, you might think, “No, thanks, I know this story too well. Am I not going through it all now?” But this feeling will leave you as soon as you spend as much as three minutes watching the dramedy. I promise you, you will binge-watch the episodes, even if you have to feed, change and put your baby to sleep.