The Invisible Umbilical Chord

During Malik's first year, I went through the conflict of being a working mother. The guilt trips, the missed meetings, the inability to bring myself to the present task at hand because my sense of motherhood overpowered anything else.

In his second year, I learned to juggle. When it's time to write my thesis, I write my thesis. When it's time to read Malik a book before bed, I do just that. I wake up 3 times during the night and lecture the next day. I accepted the consequence of both roles with a serious attempt at not pining over the cons of the choice I made consciously.

And now, entering his third year - where he's learning to become more independent - I realise just like the years before that I am learning right along with him. I learned that parenting is not (only) a role, but part of who I am. I take with me the skills of listening, of deciphering his needs and the limited amount of words he has to communicate them, of squatting and keeping my face level to his so that he could talk to me with equal height (figuratively and literally speaking).

I slowly realise that I take that trait with me when I'm talking to students. I don't see them as people I 'tutor', I see them as people finding their way in life - just like I am - and that my role is to 'listen to their needs'.

As a teacher, I am a parent. And as a parent, I am a teacher.

I no longer 'juggle', my identity expands to accommodate the roles I am responsible for.

It's a unique process, which I do with all my heart. And once in a blue moon, when he needs me the most (he recently had a non stop high fever), an imaginary umbilical chord appears. My whole body responds to his needs. And after he's recovered and back on his own two feet, the chord disappears - only returning when he needs it the most. Quite a fascinating and illogical response, which I embrace as part of who I am. Or the period Malik and I are going through at the moment. I'm certain that things will change throughout the years, and I enjoy every period of this journey.

I am a 'mother' anywhere I am. A role that teaches us the will to give the best of nurture, only to let them go when time comes. That nothing in this world is actually 'mine'.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.