Sooner or later we will have to look back and see what we have achieved in our life, what heritage we leave behind us. The values we cherish today determine our tomorrow. What if we set meaningless aims? Aren’t we afraid to see emptiness behind us?
Women have fought for their freedoms, independence and equality with men for such a long time that it’s not that easy to give it up. We, women, want to make career first and only then we think about having children. Often we decide not to have children at all claiming that motherhood involves complete sacrifice of our lives depriving us of many joys and freedoms. Sometimes we say to ourselves that the time to have a baby has not come yet but when we finally make up our mind it turns out that it’s too late.
I got married when I was 19 and gave birth to my glorious son when I just turned 20. I was a student of a college at the time, so it was quite a challenge to cope with the baby and attend classes. However, I was a success both as a mother and a student. You might say that there is nothing special about it; there are many young mothers who successfully combine study and family life. Let me then introduce some new details. I’m blind. Yes, I see nothing but light and contours. When I got pregnant I felt that I was the happiest person in the world, however, the doctor I went to questioned my ability to take care of the baby. She said that today even firmly established healthy women don’t want to bear the “burden” of motherhood. I have to mention that I live in Ukraine which is a developing country where women don’t get real assistance from the government. And yet, despite all the difficulties I had to face I decided to keep the pregnancy.
This July my son will turn four. He is a healthy boy, my precious, my glorious boy. I manage to cope with him pretty well, though I have to do it very differently from sighted mothers. The most difficult thing for me, especially when he was very little and could not understand that I didn’t see him, was those hours outside at a play ground when I had to identify my son among other kids by his foot steps, his laughter or sometimes his cry.
I don’t see my son’s face but I feel him smiling. I can’t watch him running but I adore listening to his happy laughter. When I hold his little hand I know for sure that when the time to look back comes I will be able to say that yes, I was happy and that I leave the best mark on the earth which only we, women, are gifted to leave.0Send Me Love
Take action! This post was submitted in response to My Story: Holding Hands.