Growing Roots in the Spaces Between Words
Author： Sunanoito
After childbirth, there was a period when my emotions went numb.
In 2018, two heartbeats were beating in my belly. Their father, who had repeatedly expressed concerns about parenting twins, left our lives shortly after their birth. I was unable to rely on my parents as they had their own problems.
I embarked on the journey of raising twins on my own.
For newborn twins, there is no distinction between day and night. I breastfed them all day and all night and changed their diapers dozens of times a day. I rarely had time to sleep. While simultaneously or alternately holding two crying babies, taking care of myself always came last. Gradually, I lost track of what I was feeling and became like a zombie who simply does what to do.
Making baby food was added to the to-do list. Cooking is just another hardship as I have a developing disorder and struggle with multitasking. However, I took the words 'food is the symbol of love' that I heard somewhere too seriously and became obsessed with cooking baby food.
No matter how I carefully prepared the meal, the destination of the food was mostly aprons and the floor. With smiling faces, the twins clutched their spoons and repeatedly scooped and tossed the contents of their bowls, as if competing to see who could throw them farther. As the effort put into making the food increased, a sense of emptiness and frustration grew.
Hard work is not always paid off when it comes to parenting. I sought the right answers by reading countless parenting books.
What I truly love are the books of stories. In the past, even for a brief period of time, I nurtured my own vitality by venturing into worlds that were far removed from my own.
In those early days of motherhood, immersing myself in stories seemed like a waste of time. I was obsessed with the idea that If I was going to spend my time, I had to read books that would efficiently answer my parenting concerns.
With a sleep-deprived head, I tried to read the words printed on the pages, but nothing of the contents entered my mind. Occasionally, I came across phrases such as "Mommy's frustration is transmitted to the baby" and "Share parenting responsibilities with your partner". All of these phrases made me feel as if my current situation was being denied, and I ended up feeling more tired than before reading.
One day, I picked up a novel. I couldn't stop reading this book, blaming myself for thinking, "Oh, I wish I had this kind of time to make baby food stock." With one hand, I soothed my crying babies, and with the other hand, I turned the pages, absorbed in the story.
It was a story about a cannibalistic demon with amnesia and an orphan girl living together. The girl sees her dead father in the demon and the demon cherishes the girl more than anyone else. Ironically, however, the girl is a child with tender flesh that would surely be delicious for the demon to eat. The girl knew that the demon would weep and drool at the same time at night when she pretends to be asleep. Terrified that one day she might be eaten, she still says,
"You can be who you are. If you find it hard to live here, then I will be the demon then."
I found myself crying hard.
I felt as though I was told “You’re fine just the way you are''. A sense of relief washed over me, knowing that my existence was accepted with all its struggles and conflicts. And then, I realized, 'Ah, it's the same feeling I hold for my sons.'
“I love my sons. No matter what happens, I’m always on their side ”
What keeps me moving is my love for my sons. Perhaps this is the only thing that really matters. I have been trying hard to find the perfect parenting answers, but there may be no need to do everything perfectly.
You might say this is an escape from reality, but to accompany someone's feelings in a story, to be happy or sad, to experience such emotions has unclenched my stiffened heart.
My time is my life.
If you deprive yourself of the precious time to fulfill yourself, calling it a "waste," can you really say that you are alive?
I was bound by the image of an ideal mother. But a mother is a human being before she is a mother. She should be free to express her love not only through cooking but also through what she is good at and what she enjoys doing. I love to read books, so I will tell my sons how much I love them by reading.
Since I came up with this idea, I stopped investing my energy in what I’m not good at. If you can cook good white rice, that's good enough. A simple meal of miso soup and pickles shall be the basic daily meal. When we want something a little fancier, we proudly buy frozen foods. This brought me time to enjoy books with my sons.
I may not always have to be a nice mother. In order to stay nice, I should be nice to myself.
What I want my sons to know is that they can always find a world to escape to by reading books, when things are hard or sad. Of course, if they find other more enjoyable things they can do, I want them to spend their time wholeheartedly on those. I want them to teach me the joy of things that I don’t know.
Yet, if reading has become one of their pleasures, there are lots of books that I would like to read together someday.
Books are like fertile soil. May the roots we establish through books nourish your lives and mine.
Call for Donations
Thank you for taking the time to read our essay. This essay was written by Haru for the Mother's Day Campaign 2023. The Japanese non profit Single Mothers Sisterhood is an organization dedicated to supporting the mental and physical well-being of single mothers. Every year in May, we conduct a campaign to promote the importance of self-care and celebrate the diversity of families. Reading the essays written by single mothers allows us to appreciate the diverse qualities and characteristics that make each and every one of them special and unique. We would greatly appreciate your support. You can visit our donation page by clicking here.
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