Wednesday, 19 August 2015

Musings on memory

Another one from my writings of yore.

Musings on memory

The mind is like a forest in autumn - rich with the memory of bygone days, lying scattered and mixed like leaves on the forest floor. Every step we take crunches some leaves and discovers new memories. They lie steeped in many hues and colours - bright green, deep red, faded yellow and black. Each unique in its own way.  Real yet like a dream. They form the steps of life's staircase extending to the clouds and beyond - half hidden, half formed, incomplete yet whole. Some memories are opaque - clear pictures in the mind, some translucent, hazy images slipping like sand through the fingers, others faded beyond recall, mere gaps in time.

Every memory is a valuable experience... loved, hated yet cherished like the familiar lines a face aged with wisdom. No jewels surpass them in wealth, nothing could replace them, the lessons they teach lay hidden in one's mind.

From the faltering steps of childhood to the faltering steps of old age, memories flow like a river, starting in a trickle, growing with every step and meeting a greater purpose. But the river which meets the sea does not lose its existence. Memories linger on to make us laugh, to make us cry, to make us what we are meant to be. For memories are life itself. It forms our identity, our very being. It is something that none can take from us by force, but which is shared in love.

Sunday, 2 August 2015

The Rhythm

The problems faced in motherhood are transient, what remains are the joys. When we are in the thick of things the troubles seem insurmountable but trust me, they pass.

A big problem problem I faced, was my son fussing at the breast. In the initial days, he was sweet and docile. No fuss, just long sessions. Then as he grew stronger the timing reduced.

With rise in demand, my body increased the production and the speed. Unable to handle the fast flow, my son did what he knew, cry!

Initially, I failed to understand the reason for his wails. He didn't fuss at the bottle. I thought he wanted a change of taste. A bit of reading up on the subject and I recognized the signs. I researched where to find a lactation consultant, began worrying about what would happen if he refused milk altogether..basically got worked up on all possible worst case scenarios.

Then my son found his rhythm. He adjusted to the speed, nursed comfortably and did not fuss anymore. No consultant, no switching to the bottle..nothing. I relaxed. All is well.

Now I start the next phase. I am gearing up to return to work. That means upping the bottle feed..formula, pumped milk, solids...but he had just settled in. Our tunes had matched.

Well that's life. Never a dull moment. The rhythm changes. Here we go again.