THE DECISION -- GRANDMA, MOTHER AND CHILD

THE DECISION

GRANDMA, MOTHER & CHILD

BY.DR.MERVYN ABREO

                                         

          I am a grandmother and I have been happily married for many years. I sigh contently as I gaze upon my brood of children and grandchildren, all gathered around me. They have come so that we can all be together as one big happy family. We do this regularly once every year.

                                                           

           Except for the youngest, all my children are married. And soon, in the near future, their sons and daughters will marry and, in turn, have children of their own. And the cycle of life will continue.

          When I look at my youngest daughter, soon to be a bride, I think of myself when I was her age, waiting eagerly for the big day with all the excitement and anxiety of starting a new life. Those wonderful, carefree days in college had passed so swiftly, during which time I had been transformed from a childish teenager into a mature young lady.

                                                              

          And the transformation from a gawky girl-child to a woman had taken place when I was in school, bringing along with it giggles and questions and all the confusing emotions that followed.

                                                         

          One of my daughters-in-law sat beside me, peacefully breast feeding her infant son. There was so much love and tenderness in this simple act.   And the baby was happily sucking on the teat, blissfully unaware of the world around, secure in the arms of his mother. I was happy that she did not have to make the decision-- at least this one time. She had simply left it to me.

          The men folk usually shirked from getting involved, at least in this decision making. They did not want to soils their precious hands with blood. Innocent blood! And so the decision was left to us women folk who were no strangers to blood.

          Our first experience was with our periods, then onto the marriage bed and then when we made the decision.

          This decision was a woman thing. We would advice each other whenever the need arose and when we got the opportunity: while waiting for our kids to take them home after school, while chopping veggies, shopping or even during brunch at exclusive clubs or hotels, while our husbands were busy making money.

          I was one of the best decision makers. I had helped many young mothers-to-be to make the decision. It was a necessity and made our society strong and well balanced.
                                                                 

          For the men, what was more gratifying than a successful business deal or even a killing at the stock market was to gaze down at his son and heir, the continuation of his progeny.

          As I once more looked at my grandson, the product of my decision, I was pleased; so tiny, so helpless, so manly.

          As I dreamily reminisce down the road to my own infancy, I wonder how I, an independent and tenacious woman, could have once been such a small, helpless baby. And with a sudden start I realize that, there had even been a period, before being a baby, when I had actually been a small, tiny developing fetus in my mother’s womb, waiting for the weeks and months to pass by, until she had reached full term, when I could be safely delivered and come out into the world.

This world! wonderful world where I could live This my life to the full.

          But oh no! I’m not just any fetus. I’m a female fetus. And I’ll grow up into a female child.

                                                             

                                                                    

      


            I hope………………..Oh no! I will not entertain that thought. My mother loves me too much for that. She would never think of aborting me. Of getting rid of me in such a demeaning manner, just flushing me down the toilet!

          I have so much to look forward to. Please mama please! Please! Please! Please let me live my life to the full, just as you have. Please don’t let me die. I beg you. Please let me live! Please, please let me live!

          I was gently woken up from my reverie by a hand on my shoulder. It was my youngest and only daughter.
                                                          

          “Mother,” she said. “I am trying out my hand at baking. I’ve started out with some bread. The bun is in the oven. Like to come and see how it turns out?”

          I looked up to her and gave her my warmest smile.

          “No need to, baby. No need to.” I said. “You’ll do fine on your own.”

          And then added, more to myself. “My baking days are over. Never again. Never ever again!”

PLEASE NOTE: All pictures exhibited on this blog are chosen randomly and have no connection with the topics in any article whatsoever!

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Dear friend,

          I look forward to getting your feedback. Do write in to me at:

                                        drmervynabreo@gmail.com

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