WARNING: THIS IS A LONG BLOG, PREPARE SOME CHIPS AND DRINKS WHILE YOU READ THROUGH IT!
I chat with Kemal yesterday. One of his friends has a baby. CONGRATULATIONS! Anyways, he sends me the pictures. You wont believe how beautiful she is. This "little human version" that comes out from a woman body after more or less 9 months old. I can’t imagine how they feel the first time they saw their baby. I can’t imagine how grateful and happy they could be. After I chat I started to remember, there is this phrase in Indonesia that says parents love to their children is indescribable, unlimited, uncountable and it never runs dry nor stop. The love will pour and pour in every of our days. how come?
It is amazing, even as naughty as we could be, as we act rebellion to all their rules, they keep loving us. We did and do things that they expect us not to do, after all the stupid things we do they still could love us pure and true. If that happens in dating that will be the day we broke up. I believe parent’s love to their children is the purest love you can find. We could say that they are sooooo annoying with all their complains to us, but that is just a prove of love. But then I started to wonder, how does my parents feel the day they know they will have a child of their own? How they feel afterwards? What is the story behind Amanta?
I decided to ask my dad instead. I know he wouldn’t sugar coated things or dramatized the story. I am my parent first-born child. They had to wait for 7 years till god trust me to my beloved parent. They keep trying to be pregnant for 5 years till one day they started to think; if god will trust us with a baby, we will have one (at least) someday. I am a Muslim. Somehow this is just a story how my Muslim parent see this thing. We as a Muslim believes that a child is something that god ask and trust us to care, to protect, to love, and to raise. We don’t own that child 100%, coz in anyways the child is god to own. Unbelievable, they decided not to go to the doctor for a fertility test. They want to avoid the fight that could happen, in other words will be blaming each other. Well they just pray that maybe god will trust them with a child. They just leave it to FAITH.
Till one day, my dad feels that there was something weird from my mom (no need the details right?). He asked her to go to the doctor. She went. She’s pregnant. I was 3 months old when they knew. In Indonesia by that time, there is no such the USG technology. So they couldn’t know what is my gender. My dad asked the doctor. The doctor predicts that I am a boy coz of my strong and healthy heartbeat. Unbelievable! He thought I was a boy! I guess doctors could be wrong.
Five almost 6 months later, it was time for me to get out from my moms belly (I did wonder how it feels in there..hehehe). In the 80’s and before that time, in Indonesia fathers are not allowed to be in the delivery room (I don’t know how it goes in your country). That is why my dad had to wait outside. All he can hear was my mom screaming in pain, and after a while he could hear me cry. That was Sunday, 30 September 1984. The next thing my dad hears the nurse told my mom, “congratulation, your baby is pretty”. My dad started to think; pretty? if the baby is pretty I don’t think the baby is a boy. So yeah here I am in this world. I was a baby girl named Amanta Shakina that comes after 7 years of my parent’s pray, they wish and they wait patiently. I can feel tears started to fall on my face as my dad told me the story.
I ask him how did it felt? You can tell different things about feelings. But the only thing he said that what I should know is how thankful they are finally trusted to have a child. He told me how thankful he is to have my little brother and me. I guess he just can’t describe how it feels. But, by that time all I can feel is the love that I get and still getting from my parent, while my dad gave me all the parts of my start, my babyhood in the world.
I never knew my stories. I should be honest, that we (as one family) never have a chance to sit down and talk. I do want to know when did I start to crawl and pull things? What was my first word? How do they see me now? Are they proud of me? There are many questions I want to ask but I guess I’ll keep it till I go back to my lovely country.
I can’t lie sometimes I did complain that I felt they don’t love me, that they love my brother more or what so ever that I said when I was a little girl. But now I see it in a different way, they just couldn’t show their love in a way I expected but it doesn’t mean they stop loving me or don’t love me. All I could say; my brother and I are lucky to be love by them. And i hope after you read this you'll show more appreciation to your parents. Knowing they love you more than you know. Whether you're near or far.
