Author's Note
So this story was kind of a character study of Windy Whistles as a mother, and mothers in general. Like a testament to the power of maternal instinct and drive. It was kind of a love letter to the heroism and love of all the amazing Mothers I know. An ode to their protectiveness.
So this one is for all my fellow Mama Bears out there. Protect your babies and hold them for as long as you're able, and don't miss a moment with them. Money will come and go, as will work and love, but children are only children once. Enjoy it while it lasts because you won't get back that time with them, and someday you might wish you had lived in it more. Don't give yourself room for regrets with that. Spend as much time with them as you can.
Enjoy folks.
A Mother's Lament
Children.
They enrich our lives. They bring us joy, open us up to new dreams, and make us better ponies. They change us. From the moment we know they’re coming, we are changed. We start changing our thinking. We go from taking care of ourselves to taking care of them. The shift is almost instantaneous. We put them first. And when we hold them for the first time, we are consumed with an overwhelming joy and a love too boundless to end. But we are also imbued with an immeasurable amount of fear. Fear for them, and fear for the world around us that suddenly seems so terrifying because we are working to protect them from everything. It’s an instinct as old as time itself.
I have felt those things. I felt that baby growing inside of me, that connection between us strengthening, that joy with holding her, the love that exploded inside of me, and the stark terror of the world outside of the walls of my home. Especially when my baby was still just that- a baby. That protective instinct roared at me full blast, because until my baby was capable of flying, living in Cloudsdale was dangerous. Not as much where we lived because it was closer to the inner part of the city, but everypony knows that foals were prone to wandering off. So I tried my best to keep her there, until she finally flew, and then I let her out of the house more. I never stopped worrying about the danger present to her outside of those walls, but as she grew, it lessened. But that fear, and that instinct, was always honed and ready.
I raised my daughter with my husband, and we supported her in everything we did. If she raced, we were there. If she wanted to play in the backyard, we did it. We took care of her, and we supported her, and we raised her until she was ready to leave and go out on her own. But even after she left… I knew. I knew when things got hard for her, or when she was upset, or when she was happy, or when she was afraid. It was a sort of jolt through my body, and a voice that whispered into my mind. But sometimes… Sometimes it was a gut feeling. Those were rarer, reserved for only the most extreme of situations. And my daughter was so confident that it rubbed off on me to a degree. I was confident in her abilities, to the point where sometimes I ignored that jolt, or that voice. But I never, never ignored my gut.
That day started as usual for me. I woke up, and was making breakfast for myself and my husband, when suddenly it was like my emotions were sucked up, all taken, except for one. The only one left was absolute and sheer panic. Like a rock inside of my gut. I was in the middle of cooking when I got that feeling, and I dropped the spatula I was using with a clatter. My husband looked at me, asked me what happened and what was wrong, but I couldn’t answer. The premonition of terror fixated on my daughter’s face. I quickly took back the idea that it was a rock inside of my gut. It wasn’t a rock. It was a seed. The seed sprouted up into a full blown tree, that spread it’s branches through me, and the seed was a seed of terror, that spread throughout my body. My stomach twisted in a knot so tight and thick I thought it would never undo itself, and I thought for a moment that I would be sick.
She’s in danger. She’s in danger. Your baby is in danger. Help her. Help her now. It was that voice, whispering to me, talking to me in my head. But I knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was right now.
I tried to make myself unfreeze. I wanted to galvanize myself into action. But I hesitated. And when I finally did move, I was running. I tore through Cloudsdale, my husband on my trail, and I was going to see my baby girl. I had to know that she was okay. I had to. And then, just as I was about to fly from the edge of the city, my wings were gone. When I looked back on that moment later, I thought that maybe I had frozen for as long as I had because my body was protecting me from plummeting to my death. I would thank it in time, but back then I was only frustrated.
Do something! She’s in danger! Do something! That voice in my head screamed at me. But what could I do? If I could not fly, I could not get to her. How on earth could I save her now? I did not give up. I looked for catapults, for hot air balloons, for something, anything to get me to her. But the town had gone into hiding, as the terror gripped them. Think of your children! I wanted to scream at them, How are we going to protect the children?!
But I soon learned that there was no place safe. Canterlot had been overrun, Unicorn magic drained, and Pegasi, like myself, were grounded with no wings. I saw the faces of the weak and weary parents who were trying to protect their young, and oh how I understood what they were feeling. I wanted to give them words of comfort, something to cling to like a life raft in a storm, but what could I say to them if I couldn’t even comfort myself? There were things I wanted to say. I wanted to tell them to hold onto their babies. I wanted to tell them to follow their instincts that screamed to protect them. I wanted to tell them to not let their children into the world because it eats their innocence alive, and to hold the door between their kids and the outside, because you never knew what was out there. But I didn’t. Because I got the feeling that they understood all of that right now. There was no point in repeating what they already knew. So I went home. And I waited.
I planted myself at the window, and I watched the sky turn blood red. I saw explosions and beams of magic and heard roars of rage. So many times I wished to turn away from there, but I couldn’t. Because inside of me lived a small spark of hope that if I kept watching, I would see things righted again. And that spark, if it were kindled right, could burn down the tree of terror that had taken root in my gut. So I watched and I waited. And then, in a burst of color and light, the sky was blue again, my wings were back, and there were Rainbows, rainbows everywhere. I jumped out of my seat, not caring about my husband shouting after me to wait. I flew through my front door, through Cloudsdale, and all the way to Ponyville without stopping for a moment. I think I went so fast that I might have broken a record. And when I landed in the town, it was in front of a new, gleaming castle, made entirely from crystal. I knew my daughter was there. She had to be. It seemed like the whole town was gathered there. I galloped forward, fighting my way through the crowd.
“Rainbow! Rainbow Dash!”
Do something! The voice screams at me again. But I am doing something now. Probably just not enough for it to silence itself. And then, I see it. A glimpse of sky blue. I launch myself over the rest of the crowd.
“Rainbow!”
And then, she is there. Her cerise eyes catch my matching ones, and my hooves are around her in an instant, pressing her close to me, that soul that I created. My stomach begins to unknot itself as I take in her familiar and unchanging scent.
“Mom?” She asks.
I sigh in my relief. The voice is finally stilled.
