womanhood

a work in progress

Category: Letters to Aru (Page 1 of 4)

Dear Aru (May, 2018),

Oh my darling.

Sweet sweet boy.

You are growing up so very fast.

Becoming such an incredible human.

So persistent when you want something or when you need a question answered.

I admire that you in. Although I appear exasperated often.

You are cautious, it is in your core.

Perhaps it came from a past life, perhaps from your time in the womb, perhaps from your star sign.

Just know, it is ok to take a risk every now and then.

It is ok to fall and hurt.

Your friend is right by you, and he won’t let the cut be too deep.

Dearest Aru.

I may or may not choose to have another one.

Are you ok with that?

Some part of me dies with the thought that you might not have a sibling.

But do I really, truly, madly, deeply, want another?

I just don’t know.

I simply don’t know.

I want one for you.

That’s for sure.

But for me?

I don’t know.

Could I bear more sleepless nights?

More crying?

More whining?

Could I bear the emptiness of being a mum?

Yes.

For me, those early years often felt empty.

Empty of a cause.

Empty of an end point.

It’s who I am.

Seeking the next step.

Tick. Tick. You have arrived.

Motherhood isn’t like that.

It’s about being okay in the all day, every day.

There is no acclaim, no accolades.

It sucks, but there is some part of me that cares about that stuff.

We’ll see sweet pea.

We’ll see.

Maybe I’ll change.

Maybe I won’t.

I love you the same.

But learn from me.

A life lived for someone else, even if it is you,

Isn’t a life lived truly.

X

Dear Aru (April end, 2018),

You’re the sweetest thing, but I don’t know why, I’m grumpy all the time.

I’m trying to ease off at work.

Maybe meditate more, maybe get back into yoga.

You’re my sign.

You’ve always been my sign.

My sign posts.

The one person in the world, whom I mistreat the most.

You just asked me to read to you and I said no.

You haven’t had your dinner and I’m so disappointed.

I’m sorry sweetheart.

I wish I could be loving all the time.

Or at least a little more.

Instead of filling you with my neutral / nothing vibes.

I’m sorry.

Xx

K

Dear Aru (April end, 2018),

It’s dawning on me.

That I made your life work around mine.

I wanted you to come along.

To be adulting.

To meet pattern makers.

Sit patiently in the office.

Play on your own, with whatever was around.

I made your life work around mine.

And that is a GOOD thing.

(Don’t you go trying to guilt trip me on this one).

But.

I also think.

It’s important for you to do things you want.

And for me to work around your life (a little).

A cricket class here.

A lego session there.

Reading an extra book.

Or just cuddling for a little longer.

That is so hard for me sweetheart.

So so so hard.

Especially when I could be ironing, tidying, cooking, emailing, photoshopping, insta-posting etc. You get the gist.

I have always, actually, not always, but often chosen productivity over you.

Productivity and Netflix.

So I’m going to try and be better.

Try and get it together.

And be a little less having it all together.

For you.

For me.

For us.

X

Dear Aru (Mid-April, 2018), 

It’s been a long time. 

A long, long time.

You’ve been patient with me, while I’ve been catty with you. 

It’s hard to explain to a 3 year old what a miscarriage is. 

Or even think it’s appropriate for them to know. 

Mummy had a baby in her tummy and then the baby died. 

So mummy is sad. 

Daddy is in struggle town as he assesses our drained finances. 

Contemplating whether to sell the apartment or get a loan. 

Mummy and Daddy can’t be there for each other, like they usually are. 

Because some major shit went down. 

Is that how it goes? 

And I know. The ship will turn. The winds will change. The sun will shine. 

But maybe one day. 

When you’re going through some shit of your own. 

You come here. 

You read this. 

And you trust. 

That.

You’ll make it through. 

Just like us. 

X

Your Maa. 

Dearest Aru (Early November, 2017),

I’ve been away from you for two weeks now and it has been painful. Every time I hear your cherry voice, I’m surprised that your tone isn’t angry at me for being away. It’s simply happy to hear me.

I want to find a way to bring you with me. To be together more, apart less.
But your daddy and I are particular about whom we choose to care for you.

I love you Aru. I love you deeply.

So I’m coming home with elephants and tigers and a heart full of you.

X
K

Dear Aru (early May, 2017)

Hey Poochie,
I don’t know where the mind goes.
How to tame it.
Whether it should be tamed or understood.

But for you.
I try to be good.
Even if my mind is pulling me elsewhere.

But what is good?
Who defines and decides that?

One day, your eyebrows might raise.
As your start to unravel your maa.
As you start to know the world is round and
People do things differently to good.

And I guess.
I want to be good for you.
So you know it’s possible.
But I’m learning now.

That maybe it’s not.
Not all the time, for everything anyway.

So I guess.
If I can be accepting of you.
Then perhaps I’ve taught you a thing or two.
About what I need for us when it comes to me.

X
K

Dear Aru (mid March, 2017),

You are my barometer.
Yesterday and today, I didn’t want to be around you.
I wanted a break.

But why?
You’ve been at daycare most of the week!
Your dad is here to help.
So why.

Don’t I want to be with you?
I feel like you steal time away from me.
Steal opportunities from me.
Steal peace from me.

To browse a store.
To capture a moment in a gallery.
To be at peace, flicking a page in a novel.

Darling Aru.

I know now.
As I learn over and over and over again.

These are simply things.

I have not given myself.
And I really truly need to.

Prioritise them.

So I can come home to you.

Xx
K

Trite but True

I never knew just how much I loved you till the moment I thought i might loose you.

X

K

Dear Aru (mid Feb, 2017)

My Dearest Aru,

I love you all over again.

In that deep unrelenting way.

And it is glorious.

My heart beat beat beats for you.

Boom boom boom.

My chakras spin for you.

And my feelings.

Oh. My feelings.*

 

We are buddies again.

It is glorious.

And I realise.

All over again.

And again.

 

How can I love you?

If I don’t love myself?

 

How can I honour you?

If I don’t honour myself?

 

How can I respect you?

When I don’t respect myself?

And so.

 

To love you,

I’m listening to me.

To my insides.

Hearing them say,

 

Karishma, take time out.

Karishma, stress less.

Karishma, do a little dance.

Karishma, get take aways tonight.

Karishma, go to work and do what you love.

 

Karishma.

Feel no guilt.

Feel no fucking guilt my child.

Just love yourself and the rest will follow.

 

And for you Aru,

I have the deepest, heartfelt, bloomingly, wild delightful love.

All for you.

Because I started with me.

 

X

K

 

*Sometimes my poetry comes from lines I’ve heard / read in the past. I don’t know how it seeps into the keyboard. But this line (and I had to share for you Jane Austen enthusiasts – comes from here (https://youtu.be/CgkS5_PTfZQ)  at 1:10). SWOON Moment!

Dear Aru, (end of March, 2017)

You are my barometer. 
Yesterday and today, I didn’t want to be around you. 

I wanted a break. 
But why? 

You’ve been at daycare most of the week! 

Your dad is here to help. 

So why. 
Don’t I want to be with you? 

I feel like you steal time away from me. 

Steal opportunities from me. 

Steal peace from me. 
To browse a store. 

To capture a moment in a gallery. 

To be at peace, flicking a page in a novel. 
Darling Aru. 
I know now.

As I learn over and over and over again. 
These are simply things. 
I have not given myself. 

And I really truly need to. 
Prioritise them. 
So I can come home to you. 
Xx

K

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