by Jo Kaur
Lately, I’ve been plagued by a series of nightmares, each reflecting a primal, obvious, and urgent desire to save Riaan’s life. Last night was no different. They range from me running through corn mazes, to battling turbulent waves, to being lost in the wilderness, with endless desert around me. They come in flashes, the meaning rather clear. I always wake up right before reaching Riaan. Deep in my subconscious, he remains lost, wandering, scared, and crying for his mother.
Sometimes the metaphor feels real. I’m in a devastating storm in a deep and turbulent sea, learning to swim for the first time, waves and lightning crashing all around us, trying to reach Riaan, who is on a flimsy life boat and struggling to stay afloat. The battle feels impossible, but it is the most important one of my life.
I cannot fail. We cannot fail.
The implications of our actions are tremendous. The battle, always lonely.
Yet we’ve build up an army of people who are willing to help us or who have already helped us in incredible, life-changing ways, and that gives us the strength and power to keep going. We are building a real chance, and we are thankful to all of you for your role in building that opportunity for Riaan, for so many other children.
Today is my birthday. I’ve always tried to use my birthday as an opportunity to live, reflect, and grow. I had started a tradition many years ago which I am no longer able to honor, but I’d travel to a new and challenging place or country to learn and evolve as a person. Of course, these days, my family and I have been handed challenges - right on our home turf - that are extraordinary and beyond what human beings are meant to face. I yearn for monotony, a simple family life, where my Riaan is healthy and happy, growing up like most other children.
Prior to becoming a mother, birthdays would bring a series of high expectations that never came to fruition because who can meet them? But when I became a mother, all of that changed, and the expectations withered away. The day no longer feels special or different or important in the way that it used to when I was not a mother. Nor does it need to be, not any more.
The only birthday that matters is Riaan’s. The day he was born became the new day of my birth, of who I am as a person, of the most important journey of my life - as a mother.
When I had my birthday while pregnant with Riaan, I received one of the cutest ultrasound pictures of him around that time, and we were able to get one of our first good glimpses of him.
Even in the womb, he took my breath away. In that moment in particular, my life became intertwined with his. Not in the loss of autonomy sort of way but in the gaining of a benevolent, divine, and important blessing and role that I cherish with every ounce and power of my being.
I’ll never stop fighting for you, my beta, my love.
None of us will.