I miss my girlfriends. I miss my old life. Motherhood is not what the world cut it out to be. Yes it is rewarding seeing the world from her eyes and seeing her explore this world for her own and make up her own mind, but it is a life of sacrifice of everything you'd ever found precious or dear: the good food, the travel to exotic places, the shopping for luxury items, sleep. They rob you of your youth, vitality and sanity truly. And when you have nothing left to give, she still yells "Mummy!" in the dead of night and you are expected to be at her beck and call again whilst she insists on kicking you fervently to make sure you are still there in bed with her.
I see longingly a friend's wedding back home in KL. It's a beautiful affair with designer suits and gowns and bespoke Jimmy Choos. And I am envious. Envious that I can't go back to that carefree moment when I truly believed my best years with my best friend was still ahead of me. I watch Grand designs present a modern mews that was built for a young new family in East London and how they married their family life to their living space in London and I am envious again. Envious that I do not even live in a space where I truly believed I loved and can make dreams in. The heavy scent of discontent has not been something I had ever been familiar with and I don't know how it all started. I really don't know how I got here.
Despite all the whinging though, I still burst with pride as my determined daughter edges her way into this world, one small leg trying to take two steps at a time. She puts strings of words together now and actively tries to communicate. I feel like she loves me most because I am the only one in this world that listens to her and affirms my understanding of what she has just said. I am the only one in her world that understands her language. And life with the man? Well let's just say, being single in this world of Tinder and other social crazies terrify me. We live in a heavily populated earth and yet I'd feel alone if he wasn't by my side watching a TV show, criticising our dreams together with me.
So I ask myself, is life enough? Perhaps we will slowly forget how good it was to live for ourselves as we accept our parental roles. I know the tantrums will fade but I will be pulled in other ways. There will be homework and packed lunches and extracurricular activities to keep up with. There will be her social life too to manage on top of her education and instilling values and faith. I suppose the good memories we have with our children will also build up in time and we will eventually stop lamenting the loss of the glamorous adult parties we used to throw, the dream house will become a family home and before we know it, we will have to worry about our own health and not being a burden to our children.
Perhaps then, hopefully then, we will still be together and happily say we pulled through and yes, life was enough. It was more than enough. It was the best it could have ever been.
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