Open Letter

You came home, my parents' guest. You hardly know me, we are meeting after almost a year. You see my baby, hold her....play with her. Fine.

Then you tell me, "She is so thin! Don't you feed her?"

I felt the need to be defensive, I claim she takes after her slim grandparents. I tell you how the doc says she is thriving well. Her growth is absolutely fine for her age. I don't give you a piece of my mind. Funny, I thought I would have given anyone who said that a long lecture. I didn't.

Because you don't know how many nights I stayed up feeding her by the hour. You have no idea how sore each part of my body was, coping with the stress. You don't have a clue how much I have fretted over her pees and poops, the color and frequency- all indirect evidence of adequacy of her feed. You don't know how it breaks a mother's heart when someone accuses her, directly or indirectly that she isn't giving her baby the best.

I forgive you, and I thank you. You have no idea of how much your supposed smartness can give some mother some blogging material.

Record the moments.....

I look at you as you sleep in my arms. Full after a meal, content. I land you down, you stir and open your eyes, express your displeasure at being away from me. I hold you close again and you close your eyes and smile.

Someday you will be too old to sleep in my arms, you will choose your own clothes to wear. You will eat your own meals with your own hands. How time flies- seems like just a few days ago you were this wailing milk guzzling newborn. I must cherish these days. They won't come back. I must record your smiles, giggles, wails and cries all in my mind.

You wake up.....we exchange smiles. I lift you high in the air, the way you love it. In my mind I try to record all the expressions and giggles.

And you spit in my face.......

Yes motherhood still rocks.

Redux

After reading this article by Janice Goveas, I knew I had to call someone. Mother of my old dear patient, who left for heavenly abode almost 2 years ago. I had written about him the angelic boy with Acute Leukaemia, who succumbed to a very brave battle against his disease.

I had, in the course of his long treatment interacted a lot with almost whole of his family- mother, father, sister, aunts. When he passed away his shocked and devastated mother had called me and told me about his demise. After that I lost touch with her but I missed the sweet boy- especially on his birthday, the first anniversary if his death. Yet never mustered the courage to call his mother. Will it be the right time? I don't want to remind her of him, what do I speak?

It will never be the right time. A departed son who left behind 13 years of memories cannot be forgotten. Not in a year, or a decade or even a lifetime. He will always live in her heart, a wound that probably won't ever heal. So I finally decided to do the deed.

She didn't recognise me for around a minute or so and I didn't want to call myself her son's anaethetist. I just waited for her to recognise me. Which she did and for a moment she wasn't sure I even knew about his demise. After a few cursory exchanges we both cried for a few minutes. Words flowed effortlessly and I realised I was mostly listening and intermittently talking. She told me how much she missed her boy and her home was full of his memories. She and her husband had gone deep into soul healing philosophy and were struggling to live a normal life. They believed in life after death and were hoping to find their dear boy some day again. Their daughter was trying to get back to a normal life too. They had finally managed to get over a large part of the painful loss.

The conversation was lot longer than I had expected and though it wasn't easy I am glad I called her. I somehow felt much lighter after talking to her. An unknown lady, probably 15 years my senior and we met for a few months by chance. She has invited me to her place and she wants to tell me lot more about her dear boy. I think I shall pay her a visit, hopefully I can help her in some way by sharing the memories of her son's small journey with her.

My Doll

Dear baby N
Today you have turned exactly 150 days old. 150 days of having you in my life. 150 wonderful and happening days.

I may not have been my best all these days. Sometimes grumpy, sometimes angry...sometimes just plain tired. But always madly in love with you.

Alas its not the cozy picture of a sleepy Johnsons baby napping and a lovely looking mum kissing the baby. Its more like a howling baby who has finally slept and the zombie mom heaving a sigh of relief. Who makes these ads BTW. Nonetheless its awesome having you around..leave aside the extra fat pads and panda eyes.

I still remember the day you arrived. We were up whole night holding you... Coz you wanted to be held all night...no landing down. Obviously, you were all cozy inside least interested in meeting us. We had to do some chemical interventions to nudge you out of your peaceful aquatic habitat. We couldn't believe that two mad creatures like us had such a lovely baby.

Then came those nights you refused to sleep and kept the whole house (except your father the gifted sleeper) up and about. Then each lovely landmark- the smile, cooing, giggles...the vaccinations, night you slept through. So many memories, so many more to make.

Stay happy always.....

Love
Mom