YOUNG VOICE
“Where did I come from?”
Every parent would agree that toddlers would often ask this question. The answers vary. There's the story of an old flying stork with infants swaddled in white muslin hanging from his long bill, dropping them off to an expectant couple's doorstep. There's “You're the fruit of our love, you were given to us by God, and you were an angel sent from heaven.”
Parents have varied excuses. Until the child grows up, learns reproductive anatomy and physiology in school, then realizes that the reason for his or her existence were raging hormones.
That day I understood that a wiggling flagellum of a motile sperm has to defy the pressures of temperature, acidity and even his fellow sperms just to fertilize an anxious ovum, I was a bit disgusted but I smiled anyway. I smiled because I know that having a baby is one of the few miracles that could happen in life.
Imagine a woman who risked her life to give you life. Those who gave birth to their own children could attest that the pain felt during labor is tenfold of the throbbing discomfort of constipation, yet our mothers pushed without second thoughts. There is also that complication of eclampsia that could leave a mother in coma, the possibility of a miscarriage and the post-partum depression that she has to go through. Our mothers went through this.
Then, there's your father. They say fathers don't have their share of sacrifices during pregnancy. They have their psychological battles of accepting responsibility of raising a child, and the lifetime vocation of raising a child and he could no longer enjoy night outs without restrictions.
Yes, we felt that our parents did not understand us, forgot our space, or hindered our relaxation. But you know what, even if our parents are strict and austere, their love remains true and untainted. They had been in our shoes and we haven't been in theirs yet. My mother would often tell me, “You'll know that when you become a parent yourself.”
At school, when we were shown a video of a woman giving birth, most of us were astonished and gave out some shrieks and giggles. I, who was at the back of the classroom, had little teardrops lurking at the side of my eyes. Not because I was scared to be in that position, but I remembered my mother who's loving me every day for eighteen years, and counting.
Where did you come from?
Stop whining and follow your parents.
(For comments and reactions please send an email to reylangarcia@gmail.com or an SMS to 09186363090. View my blog at http://www.theyoungvoice.blogspot.com)