The other day I had taken my little one for vaccination. He is only six weeks old and it was his first vaccination. The doctor did a flawless job and in no time administered two injections to him, one in each thigh. It didn’t take more than a minute to do this but my little one was howling in pain. He cried in such a way that I thought he choked himself. The doctor was quick to soothe him within no time but for what ever little time he cried I couldn’t imagine how his two little and very soft thighs must have taken those injections. Apparently, it was no big deal. While I knew it was absolutely essential to give those shots to my little boy I still felt why such a tender life is subjected to this ordeal. I could feel his pain. The injection had pricked not just his thighs but also the deepest part of my heart. Within couple of minutes my brave boy was normal and started looking here and there but tears had silently made their way out from my eyes. I was crying because my little boy was in pain.

When we were bringing our little baby home from hospital after his birth, it was the most joyous day for all of us. While I was super strong all through the delivery, I broke down when we carried him home. The tears just refused to stop flowing. I was overwhelmed. Various emotions were dominating me. A sense of victory over years of infertility, happiness of being able to bring a new life to this world, a little anxiety about the new responsibility – all of these emotions united in tears and expressed themselves.

As a child I remember asking my mother why she gets very emotional at a drop of a hat and she would always tell me that I will not understand until I become a mother. She was so right! I am a new mother and I have just begun to understand why my mother used to cry for every super joyous or sad thing that happened to me. Now I know why she had cried when I was suffering from fever or when I came back home from school with a scraped knee. Now I have begun to understand why my mom would melt down with each of my suffering. Now I have begun to understand why she must have cried on my first day of school or when I was hospitalized for suffering from gastritis when I was just one year old. Now I have begun to understand that she must have shed silent tears for each of my failures. Now I have begun to understand she must have lived every emotion of mine deeper than me.

Nothing in this world can describe the worth of a mother’s tears because those are the only tears which appear because of somebody else’s pain. I, in no way mean to degrade anybody else’s tears because those tears also have emotions packed in them but a mother’s tears are selfless. A mother’s tears are perhaps the purest of all!

Never hurt your mother. She will never show tears of her own wounds. But never miss to notice those tears which she shed for you!