Title: Until it's gone…
Author: Jemmiah
I was never cut out to be a mother: at least that's how I justified my lack of maternal feelings to begin with. Feeding and changing and late nights, you know? Not my idea of fun. Plays havoc with your social life…least it would have done if I'd had a social life to begin with. The worst part of pouring your time and money into developing the perfect house is that when it's all finished and there's nobody there to share it with you, all your left with is highly polished bricks and chrome finishings. Kind of takes the shine off the achievement. Lilith was right, as usual. I'd tried to create paradise and ended up in my own personal hell.
I hate being on my own.
That's why when I was unexpectedly presented with my own little 'bundle of joy' I almost found myself relishing the challenge…well, at least when the shock had worn off. As I said, I haven't a maternal bone in my body but in some ways that made it more of an accomplishment. I'd look down at my son in his crib and instead of feeling sorry for myself and wondering what the heck I was gonna do with a baby I'd never particularly wanted, I'd find myself growing increasingly sorry for him being stuck with me! And that was the turning point, I think. It's a lot of responsibility, having kids. I was in charge of this little person. I had to organise his entire life until he was old enough to do it himself…and being Corellian that could have been any time after the age of seven!
In the end though it was almost fun. I enjoyed reading stories and playing games. All the things I rarely got to do myself as a child were inevitably what I found myself delighting in most. I even liked the simple, necessary things like dressing him in his little outfits and tying his shoelaces. There's something enjoyable in even the most mundane of tasks. At the end of the day there was a lot of satisfaction when he was tucked up in bed, fast asleep. Small children seem to look different to adults when they're sleeping, don't they? They have that aura of innocence about them. It's as if they radiate purity and goodness, without a single care in the galaxy…untroubled by dark thoughts. Their world is so small and immediate; it's almost like they are the center of the universe.
I suppose in a way they are.
I used to wonder what my son would grow up to be. A swoop rider, like his mother? A pilot perhaps? Something fast and thrilling and very Corellian…always testing the boundaries and trying new and exciting things. Then I'd wonder if as his mother it were fitting that I'd want him to do something that might potentially break his neck. The insight I suddenly got on how Qui-Gon must have felt observing me grow up was startling! Poor man…now I truly appreciate why his hair started going grey! But I could only protect Han so much. What right did I have to map out a safe and cosy life? Time and time again I tried to imagine my boy growing up to be work in an office… some stuffy, boring job with regular hours, with an irritating Gamorrean faced boss complaining about his lousy time keeping and lack of motivation. Had I ever wanted any of that for myself?
All my life I had spent looking over my shoulder, always afraid. I wanted something better for him. I wanted him to be free of fear.
'Trouble', I nicknamed him. He was well named. I saw so much of myself in him that I feared it wouldn't bode well for him. Even at the age of two he'd cheat at 'hunt the plasti-duck'…and then when I'd catch him out he'd give me that cheeky smile, knowing it would melt my heart. Typical Corellian male! One flutter of eyelashes and suddenly women just give in to their whims! The worst of it was that I always did.
I never spoiled him or overindulged him; least I tried not to. But I always spoke to him and gave him my time and attention. I sometimes think that parents don't do that enough. Up to the age of three I saw my nanny-droid more often than my own mama and I was determined not to make the same mistake with Han.
Yeah, I guess you could say that I quickly came to love my son. It was impossible not to. I listened to his first words with astonished pride…I sat with him when he was sick, bandaged his knees whenever he fell and dried his tears when he cried. I held him when he needed held and taught him how to recognize sabaac cards. I sang to him at night and kissed his forehead before turning out the lights. Those are the kind of normal things I used to do before he was taken away from me. It's the simple things in life that I've come to miss the most. Now I'm alone once more in this empty house of mine. It's come to represent my life in many ways: it's still standing but the heart is somehow missing.
It's true what they say.
You never appreciate what you have until it's gone.