I'm sorry, my child!

Today, on the way home from school to pick up my child, it was about to rain, and I was in a hurry because I hadn't finished my work. As usual, I repeated my familiar, impatient, and grumpy tone: "Are you going to hurry up or not? It's about to rain... You're always so slow."

Then… my child stopped, turned to look at me, their eyes bewildered and tinged with sadness, and softly said something that has haunted me ever since: “Mom, can’t you speak gently to me?” That innocent voice of my child echoed in my head, making me wonder: Why would a 5-year-old remind me of the importance of gentleness? My heart felt like it was being squeezed. How strange, my child… I can be cheerful and gentle with others, but with you – the child I gave birth to, a part of my flesh and blood – I can’t bring myself to be gentle. I don’t know what you thought of me during those moments when I raised my voice. I thought you were too young, that you didn’t understand, that if I rushed you, you would be faster, that if I got angry, you would listen better. But… I was wrong.

Do you know, I've been tossing and turning all night. I remember the feeling of being a mother for the first time, awkwardly holding you in my arms, staying up with you through those long, sleepless nights. Back then, just hearing you whimper or cry would make my heart tremble with fear. I was afraid you'd be hurt, afraid you'd be even slightly injured. Then you grew up in my arms, and somehow, I forgot that you were still just a child who needed comforting. Amidst the hustle and bustle of life, I gave myself the right to be short-tempered and irritable whenever you didn't please me. Sometimes, after a tiring day at work, I would bring all my frustrations home and vent them on you with unwarranted scolding. I sadly remember you silently huddled in a corner, and I naively thought you understood I was "raising you to be a good person."

Tonight, my child still lay beside me, still smiling brightly and telling me everything that happened at school, even after I had been so grumpy with her. This made me incredibly ashamed. I realized I wasn't as good a mother as I thought I was. I always said I loved her, but I expressed that love through grumpiness and irritability. I thought I was disciplining her, but it turned out I was hurting her without even realizing it.

My mother realized that she—the one who had sworn to shower me with love—was actually making me shy and timid. Her anger didn't help me grow; it only made me more afraid. She always taught me to apologize when I did something wrong, but... she herself couldn't do what she always reminded me to do.

Now, I realize I need to say this: I'm sorry, my child. For always being so irritable and short-tempered. I'm sorry for taking out the stresses and pressures of life on you. I'm sorry for not being able to control my emotions. I'm sorry for not being patient enough, not being gentle enough. I'm sorry for making you sad, for hurting you.

From now on, I will relearn how to be a mother. I don't want to be a constantly irritable, short-tempered, or yelling mother. Instead of imposing my will, I will learn to listen; instead of getting angry, I will learn to understand your thoughts and feelings. I will be more patient and gentle so that every day you are with me, you feel peaceful and completely loved. You are the greatest gift life has given me. I love you!

My Duyen

Source: https://baodongnai.com.vn/van-hoa/chao-nhe-yeu-thuong/202601/me-xin-loi-con-b21243b/