THE ANONYMITY OF BEING
37. The Present
Renee had lost count.
She didn't know how many times she'd snuck into Bella's room to check that her child was breathing. The involuntary tears that would blur her vision came at irregular intervals, forcing her to run out when the sobs of her anguish couldn't be muffled behind cupped palms. The only antidote to a mother's pain was to look through the family albums, slowly realizing that she had carved goodness amidst the smoky depression.
Renee had done what she could. But now, it was up to her daughter to make the choice. She knew she needed to give Bella time. So she waited patiently for the first words to come out. A memory was triggered- Bella uttering her first baby words.
"Ma... ma," she'd giggled happily. It'd made Renee cry and laugh at the same time.
Those words had seemed easy. She wondered if it would be the same case, this time.
As she glared at the darkness that engulfed her daughter, she was reminded of the struggles throughout her own childhood. Her parents didn't care about her thoughts, her education, her individuality. They didn't ask how her day was or who she played with at school. They nursed their bottles, as if alcohol was the daughter they'd brought into this world. The household wasn't familiar with silence, unless it was the drunken type. The weight of abandonment often subdued Renee until she realized that the pain would never go away.
Screams and insults were constantly thrown at her. Her mother would grab her roughly, ordering her around while her father made bitter remarks about the incompetency of their daughter- often comparing her to the imaginary son he wished he had.
Renee contemplated the influence of her own childhood on her motherhood. Had the negligence of her parents propelled her to hover over Bella? Until it became so suffocating for her daughter that she'd broken away without so much as a backward glance.
"Why is everything about you, Renee? You selfish, little brat."
She was the mother that her mother could never be. Renee shook her head forcefully. She wasn't selfish when she thought about her daughter. She wasn't selfish when she thought about her own feelings. She addressed things- something Patricia couldn't bear to endure.
Renee's vehement attempts of reassurance continued against the strong waves of her emotional struggle.
"You think I'm a bad mother? Wait until you have kids and then you'll see how crazy you'll become."
Renee knew she hadn't inherited anything else, beyond the rules of genetics, from her mother. There was not a mutual thought, not a shared trait. Even though Patricia hadn't loved her daughter the way a mother should, Renee had internalized her past and channeled her feelings through an unfaltering determination to be the best mother she could possibly be, for her child.
She wanted to be a friend, a sister, a mother. She didn't want vast terrains to separate her child's feelings from hers. She would love her baby, no matter what. The absence of support and love in her own upbringing would never be repeated for Bella. The sharp awareness of her mother's careless errors made Renee meticulous.
People often said that being a mother was like having a job- a job that lasted a lifetime, and its reward... priceless. Renee had never pictured herself as a mother for the longest time, having witnessed the failure of one at such a young age. But after she married, knowing that love encompassed so much more, she realized that the past didn't dictate the future. The present did.
Her identity wasn't sojourned in the lingering memories of her past. It was what she made of herself, allowing her contemporary values to craft a person who she was proud of, despite the struggles of years gone by. She realized that she identified herself as a mother- a loving, caring mother who would do anything for her child. She had once been a child with big dreams, stuck in a place where hope was scarce. Yet something made her legs run and her spirit fly, pushing her to be a better person in a disagreeable world.
By running away, she'd embarked on a chapter dedicated to acceptance. She made a choice to search for who she was. A choice that revitalized her identity. And it was a choice she knew she would never regret.
.
.
.