The Purpose of My Body and Soul

Mammals are warm-blooded, have fur, and produce milk. Milk is the liquid gold that sustains the offspring of all kinds of mammals, from blue whales to kangaroos to, yes, human beings. 

But on the day my son was born, I produced no milk. 

What's more, he seemed to be having trouble being able to even suck, which is a cornerstone skill of survival for an infant mammal. 

Harrowing months unfolded where I gradually learned how to produce milk and my son underwent procedures and countless physical and occupational therapy appointments to learn how to suck. 

Through it all, I prayed and prayed and prayed to Mother Yasoda, Lord Krishna's mother, to please allow me to nurse my son. I prayed to Mother Mary, Lord Jesus's mother, to please help us. All I wanted was to bond, to fulfill my role as a mother. Wanting to and not being able to fully sustain my child with my own milk and needing to supplement with formula had me in an existential crisis: was I even my son's mother? Of course, that makes absolutely no sense. After all, I carried him for nine months and gave birth to him, and most important of all I was  caring for and loving him with all of my being. I kept telling myself that while human milk is certainly liquid gold for my human baby, it is still only a material substance. What matters most as a mother is my love and care.

But still, I wanted that unique connection.

Over the next few months, there were even some periods of time where the puzzle pieces began to fit and we were well on our way to establishing a nursing relationship. 

But then the pieces scattered and fell apart. I climbed mountains in my journey to establish a milk supply. I crossed oceans in the journey to help my son suck properly, as there were complications. I climbed higher and higher and swam farther and farther, a kind of desperation stealing over my heart. I practically earned a PhD in infant physical and occupational therapy, tongue ties, and lactation and was in constant contact with every expert and doctor I could talk to. I tried 

every

last

thing. 

When Arjuna was about four months old and I had turned over every stone I had ever seen on our path, my day of reckoning came. I prayed and I wept and realized I needed to let go of my dream of nursing my son. I had to grieve the loss of that special bond.

I had already been giving my son special attention when I fed him with a bottle. But I began to pour my soul into the process. I would find his eyes in every session, ensuring he was looking at me with his oceanic and unblinking baby gaze, and I would murmur, "I love you." 

A few months passed. One day I was in the rocking chair feeding my son, bathed in soft sunlight. We were listening to a beautiful track called "Govinda," which filled the air with the holy name. We kept gazing into each other's eyes and I kept murmuring, "I love you, Arjuna," and I wept and wept to see that he was receiving my love. That is all that I had ever wanted, actually. I had only ever just wanted to express my love through giving my child milk, sustaining his life and sustaining our connection. In those moments, I realized that Mother Yasoda and Mother Mary did answer my prayers.

After all, I am not truly a mammal, and neither is my son. We are eternal spirit souls, created only to give and receive love. 

Shore of Peace

I was bathing my son at the very edge of the shallow end of some kind of pool. Water lapped at his soft, pale skin and his brown eyes gazed into mine with unwavering trust. 

I turned to retrieve some kind of soap, and in a second he had slipped from my hands. My whole body lit fire with absolute terror - I watched my son sink below the dark blue water, his glowing form vanishing so quickly into the depths. His gaze still held mine - the gaze of trust. 

Thoughts chased through my mind within those horror-stricken milliseconds - 

Dive down, now! Quickly, there's still time! 

     But how will I find him in the darkness?

Just keep your eyes open!

    How deep is this water? What if I run out of air?

Then come back up to the surface and keep diving until you find him! 

    What if he slips out of my hands? He's so small, so slippery. 

Do it now, Bhakti! 

And then, within the chaos of those thoughts, a shrapnel of light pierced my consciousness:

I could plunge into the chaos and the drama of desperately trying to rescue my son - 

Or I could wake up. 

Wake up from this dream. 

Do it now, Bhakti. 

I dragged myself from the depths of that dream, washing ashore to consciousness. I laid in bed, taking deep breaths, and I glanced over to see my baby boy sleeping beside me, his face angelic, his breathing steady. 

A strange, grounded peace permeated my body. One could say that I had just experienced a nightmare that could haunt me for years to come. But I saw it for what it was - a nightmare. No more substance than a ghost. I had chosen to disentangle myself from the drama of something that never happened. 

I had chosen reality.  

I've heard all my life from the scriptures that this material world is compared to a dream, and lying in bed that night I realized that teaching deep within my heart. I can get so caught up in the drama of this world, entangling myself in pain and sorrow. But there is a spiritual reality to wake up to. A place where I belong, a place where there is no drama, only the electrifying wonder of living out my soul's purpose of serving and loving God and others. 

I have had nightmares regarding the health and safety of my child since the day he was born. Sometimes they feel so real I wake up saying things to my husband and he just has to realize that I am half sleep talking. Maybe this is a phenomenon other mothers can attest to. 

And you know what? Maybe even swapping tales of nightmares would be strangely gratifying. 

But it's all drama.  

Because none of them were real. 

So what IS real? What to talk about instead? What to absorb my mind in instead? 

I realize that those questions are the ones that lead me to God, because He is real and above this nightmare. He is the shore of peace. 

athato brahma jijnasa 

"Now is the time [in this human form of life] to inquire into the Absolute Truth"