One body, two souls. That’s how a mother is, when she has a young one inside of her. And that’s how I am feeling right now. Broken into two. In a dilemma, of what to do. Life has brought me on such crossroads. And with every passing day, it’s becoming difficult for me to calm things down.
Last night, I was told that I was adopted. My mom, or who I thought my mom was, told me that I was not hers. Those weren’t her exact words, and I could the pain in her eyes. But that’s what I felt when she told me. How else could I have felt? Telling me that my biological mom left me when I was merely 6-months-old, it had consequences on me.
When I was at that age, a fire hit our house. It was a big house. Apparently, I was born as the heir to a business empire, and this woman I called mom, was a helper in the household. A helper, who had lost her husband, and a year-old son in a tragedy. And had treated me as hers, only. I used to be with her, more than I ever was with my mother. And that bonded us together, and probably, even fooled me into believing that she was the woman who bore me for 9-months in her womb.
When the fire broke out, I was sleeping in my cradle. My parents were out of town, and I was with her in the house. She took me, and herself got burns and scars over her body, and face. But that’s when the human in her came out. She “adopted” me. I was presumed dead. Probably, she losing her son, made her do this feat. But was it noble of her to do it? I don’t know. All my life, she taught me to righteous, courageous, and kind to others. And alas, this had to come out. And bash my world around.
She raised me into who and what I am, nevertheless. Probably, if I would have stayed in “my” house, I would have been just another spoilt brat. But that didn’t happen, and there’s no point in knowing the probabilities.
My biological mom lost herself, when she lost me. She did love me. She gave birth to me, after all. I never stayed with her much, because of her business venture, but that doesn’t mean, I was not her priority. When her husband, and “my” dad died, I was the only family she was left with. And losing me, made her lost herself. She would adopt every orphan she could see, and make them her family. A noble thing to do, for sure. But probably, if I was with her, all those orphans, wouldn’t have gotten the roof over their heads. So was it good, or was it bad?
I don’t know why “my” mom told me all this. Probably, it was her guilt, I guess. But whatever it was, it had my world crumbling down. I am not sure, who to choose as my mother.
A woman, who stole me away from my family, but raised me as her own. Who made sure I had a full belly, even when she slept empty stomach. A woman who never let me be cruel to the world, which treated her like a demon for being burnt, and scarred, which she got while saving me.
Or a woman, who gave birth to me, and tried to be my shield, when dad died, so that I don’t get indulged in the power struggle. A woman who lost herself after losing me, and gave shelter, food and love to every orphan she could see, but would’ve been completely different, while pampering me into a spoilt brat, who never got his mother’s attention or time.
I don’t know who to choose, but it’s clear to me, that motherhood is the most confusing emotion of all.