A cry for help

Today, I woke up grumpy. While working on my laptop, I heard the cow tied near my room (we own a dairy farm situated right beside our house) mooing relentlessly. After a while, I got irritated. Since I couldn’t do anything, I remained grumpy and irritated. Later, when I went to place the dishes back in the kitchen, I asked my mother why the cow was mooing so much. She replied that her offspring had just passed away due to weakness.

I felt tremendously guilty, sad, and awakened all of a sudden. Here I was, judging an animal in utter distress, grieving the loss of her offspring. No matter how many calves she may have had before, a mother is a mother to all. I took a roti to offer her, and she ate it eagerly, but then went right back to calling out for her lost baby.

After learning of her ordeal, I could even hear the pain in her voice and see it in her eyes. She is still calling out, hoping her baby will respond and bring her peace.

I am not a mother yet, so I can’t even imagine that pain. But I can try to understand it — pain that is clearly very real and deep.

Yesterday, I read an Instagram post by an artist who recently became a mother. She shared her experience of feeling crushed when her newborn was taken to a different room in the hospital for a checkup due to complications. She felt her child must have been scared, and even a day or two of separation felt unbearably heavy. It reminded me of my sister, who once mentioned feeling similarly when my nephew was kept away from her for examination because he had mild jaundice. At the time, I couldn’t truly understand her pain.

But yesterday, I messaged her with the caption I read on Instagram and asked if she had felt the same way. She replied affirmatively, saying she had felt broken at that moment.

This post is for mothers and to-be mothers. Your love, care, and patience have shaped the world and will continue to make it a better place to live.