The miracle that is me
“Iam just not good enough. I am not pretty. I am not that smart. I don’t have a special talent to speak of. I do not have enough friends. I am not popular,” I lamented.
I cannot count how many times I had complained about myself. My self esteem was so low, sometimes I felt bad just being seen in a crowd.Truthfully, I cannot even trace the root cause of it, all I know is that I had always felt bad about myself ever since I could remember. I did not like my looks. I did not like myself at all.
Then one day, my mother heard me. She was not happy about it at all.
“What did you say, young lady,” could you repeat it for me. Because I don’t think I heard right,” she said. I could almost feel the pain and anger through her voice.
“Sorry mother, I was just saying.”
“Just saying what?” come here, come. Let me tell you a story.
“For the first years of my marriage, I could not have a child. Then I conceived. Of course you can only imagine how happy your father and I were. We started picking out names, visiting relatives and the anticipation was so great, you could smell it in the air. In the third month I lost the baby. I was devastated and heart broken. But I had to go to the garden and carry on as usual. Tilling the land, weeding, it was all expected of me. But I was bleeding inside.
Luckily enough I conceived again. I was half scared, half excited. I kept thinking it would break me if I lost this baby too but I also kept wondering. What if this one lived.Oh what joy would it would be. I would be happy just thinking about that. Your father was enthusiastic when he found out. He encouraged me. Told me not to get scared. All was good for seven months, then I lost the baby. It was a boy.
Then I had you.
And I lost the one after you too. It hurt as much, but this time I had a consolation. I had you. You are my miracle.”
And so from that day, my life changed.Sometimes, I feel the urge to start grumbling again but all the reasons for that pale when I compare them to the miracle that is me.