Last Sunday was Mother’s Day and being a first time mom, I spent it like a ….. daughter, daughter-in-law, granddaughter-in-law. I was anything that day, but a mother.
Laetitia is too young to draw me card and I guess, Mr Hubby probably didn’t acknowledge the fact that I am also a mother too!
And it was such an irony when the only "Mother’s Day" greetings I got, were from two of my guy friends instead.
But all those were nothing compared to how my heart aches when I picked Laetitia up from my in-law’s place, last Friday and was horrified to see how badly she was bitten by mozzies. As she has hyper-sensitive skin, the bites developed into an allergic reaction. Instead of "common hives", the bites turned into angry looking blisters. They resembled the look of burned wounds!
I can’t help but felt overwhelmed by a sense of helplessness and devastation. It was the most grievous thing to see your baby suffers at an age so tender and not able to take any of her distress away. I am so tore to see her scratching profusely on her leg.
Every moment spent away from Laetitia, the fear of dreadful diseases spread by the mozzies and the aftermath of those bites which might scar her for life, afflicted me tremendously. My phobia is tangible; I am damn suffocated by it.
Perhaps lousy mom like me doesn’t deserve the day that commemorate only the superb women… & some might even believed they can only be those from our mother’s era.
It must has been a long time since I last tasted depression… and it still taste like bile.