“Mom, why do the poor have kids?”

AI generated photo / a Chinese mom is cooking pancakes.

Original by Xiaying Huang

English translation by Christina Ren

Moms Are Super

Kids would naturally believe their moms are super; nothing in the world can beat them.

When reading Sans Famille at about five or six years old, I sympathised the helpless protagonist who was bullied by people. Luckily though, his adoptive mother treated him wholeheartedly, even if she was living a poor life and still tried to borrow ingredients from neighbours to cook pancakes he craved for.    

Upon reading this, I suddenly wanted to have the same pancake, thus unreasonably pled my mom for it, “Mom, come and see this. It sounds so delicious. Could you please make one with eggs and powder?” After that, I was able to have mom’s tasty pancakes for over ten years, plus various modified versions, such as adding apple, carrots, pork mince…

Since someday, the little myself got addicted to the story of Santa Clause. Then I repeatedly urged my mom to put the cute sock at the bedside at the Christmas Eve, so that Santa will put a gift in it. Next day I approached the sock, and shouted excitedly, “Santa did gave me a gift!” Taking it out and I found, wow, it’s my favorite dried pork snacks. This Santa is just way too thoughtful. Later I gradually got it that it was my mom who bought it at supermarket in the evening to surprise me. 

It is difficult to tell if Santa really exists in the world; but there are millions of moms who are willing to protect their kids’ naivety.

Moms Are Not Super

After andolescense, I had more and more fights with my mom. I couldn’t understand her, neither did she. We believed in ourselves, and didn’t give in. The family was like a volcano which might erupt anytime, so I always wanted to escape.

At junior high school, most classmates came from wealthy families; comparatively, I became more and more sensitive and inferior. “Mom, my classmates are picked up by car, and they’d travel around during vocations. Why don’t we have a car? Why don’t you take me to travel?” I kept asking with depression. 

Mom said, there are way more poor families in the world than us; you should compete with classmates in grades, not materials. At your age, I was a waitress at a restaurant, washing dishes. It is a blessing having the opportunity to study, and you should treasure it.” But I was so sad; why did my friends laughed at me wearing fake “Chanel” short sleeves with an untied thread; why did they point at me saying the “tick” on my shoes is fake Nike? You wouldn’t have thought of that. You lived on wholesale clothing business, thus barely had any knowledge about those fancy brands; while just thinking as long as they fit me. However, for an adolescent with strong self-esteem, how come it wouldn’t leave any psychological shadow with peer’s laughs?      

I detested you, detested your old-fashioned dressing, primary school graduate to-be, and non-decent job compared to my peers’ like doctors or teachers.

Your efforts seemed to be a natural thing, like getting up early to purchase wholesale goods, cooking various desserts for me after evening classes, taking me to the Disneyland when it first opened…

Having No Mom Is Not Super 

After university, my mom and I had a less tensive relationship, maybe because of the beauty of distance. But that didn’t last long; I still pitied myself as someone who came out of a poor family.

I’ve wanted to pursue graduate study at the very beginning, and put lots of efforts into multiple things, like grades, English, essay and competition, for postgraduate recommendation. To achieve that, I worked hard at the library while others were having fun; even though, my GPA was at the edge of postgraduate recommendation at the junior year, which was quite risky. By that time, I came to know that some other classmates paid for essays and even for patent points. I had no advantage over that while worried about wasting money.  

Apart from reflecting on my limited efforts, while seeing close peers went for overseas study or travelled around not worrying about jobs, my world seemed to be collapsing. Wasn’t it? Kids from poor families tried whole life however still cannot make to the start point of the wealth.

I was not mature enough, and aimed “the arrow” onto you. I cried crazily at phone call, “Don’t have kids if so poor! Your life has been difficult already, and still married to someone who can’t make good money. Why did you have a child to suffer in this world?” 

I only give vent to anger, without noticing any of your tears nor grey hair. Later you said, it was also your first time being a mom.

You were born in the mountains in Fujian. Your parents couldn’t support too many kids, thus sent you to your adoptive mother. She was not good nor bad; the adoptive father passed away as no money for illness, let alone for your study. You went out by yourself to work as a teenager. I laughed at you for believing in Buddhism, however the truth was you had no one else to rely on. After being slandered for stealing necklace at work, you could do nothing but to kneel down in front of the Buddha.

Good thing is, I now can understand it.

Human beings, can we really choose our birth? For anyone reasonable, he or she would have to play whatever cards in hand, right? Those who can live a better life from a poor background would never keep complaining about their mom nor birth! When saying the cold words that the poor shouldn’t have any child, have I denied, from a ruthless prospective, the ungraded, fair and great motherhood. It was not perfect, but sincere and hard-working enough.  

Mom, please forgive me, because it was also my first time to be your daughter.

In the future, we may still have fights; but for mother and child, we will never get apart. Let’s learn to rely on each other and forgive our limits. This is a lesson to learn for life.