My umbilical cord: my lifeline. A short story
My umbilical cord died the day, to be precise the moment, I was born. A flexible, jelly-like tube that had a life of its own, it nurtured me, cleansed me and kept me afloat inside her. I always referred to the cord as mine, I birthed and owned it, but maybe my mother thought differently about it. Ultimately, our opinions did not matter. Doctors took it away from both of us, in a snap, to separate one life into two, so that I could become independent and learn to float on my own. They never took my consent despite my cries, and before my mother, drowning in pain on the operation theatre table, could intervene.
I could never judge whether it was a natural death or a murder. Sometimes I wonder what if the cord sacrificed itself in everyone’s interest. I carried its dead body for as long as I could, until it decided to fall apart.
With the cord gone, my mother cradled me now with her hands. She sang soft, rhythmic lullabies; her soft fingers glided on my skin; her kisses brightened me up; and her sparkling eyes infused energy in me. She became my lynchpin. Physically separated now, but threads of love, care, compassion and sacrifice kept us together. Time flew and it made me grow.
My mother tightly held on to her side of the thread but my growing needs put pressure and weakened our bonds over time, not that I wanted to. I started to take higher ground in our conversations. Friction caused scratches to turn into wounds now. She sensed the growing separation and accepted this reluctantly, either by smiling at me or shedding tears, all alone, I regretted the situation.
As a grown up, I felt hesitant to share my feelings, maybe I feared I would come out as weak in front of her. Our conversations became short and crisp, often lacking emotions. Sitting all alone, and reflecting, my eyes sometimes glanced at the navel depression in my body; it reminded me of my deep seated connection to her. Placing my palm on it, I sensed a reservoir of energy inside me, for me to harness whenever I needed it, not sure when though. It was the imprint of the cord that had died long ago.
Then one day, my life took a decisive turn and my belief that my umbilical cord died the day I was born was rightly proved wrong. It was the day my mother suddenly died and left me all alone.
