Random Stranger: Hey Hi, where is your Son studying ?
Random Stranger: Hey Hi, where is your Son studying ?
I ‘just’ don’t look like him. But I believe I am like him, in bits and pieces and shapes. For Eg the shape of my funny nose is like him.
Pretty curls & bright yellow ribbons, Butterfly frocks and fluttering eyes with infectious smile, I always knew and believed, Baby girls were a slice of Heaven on earth.
I did not know a Boy’s world.
They wore the same boring trousers. Cars & Bikes were not my favourite. I dreaded at the fact of having a Boy Baby until this happened.
It did not just happen, but heard and read and everywhere I looked, I stared at this insane atrocities of Men (Boys) towards its most Precious Gender.
Throughout my pregnancy, I was sure of one thing, I did not want a Baby Girl.
I did not want creepy looking men to drool at my 10yr old Innocent daughter.
I did not want some random funny looking guy to advise her on ‘How not to look funny’
I did not want that ticket collector, that strange man walking on the road, to hit and push and rob her off her innocence.
I freaked at the thought that, that guy whom I always feared all my life, would walk up to her and swear and stain her dignity.
These are just some of the many ‘I don’t wants”. Some of which I don’t find appropriate words to write. Some of which might be very raw, and to refrain from writing them could be the best thing I can do for myself.
Although I had many a “I don’t wants”, I also have a million “I want’s”
I want to give birth to a tiny baby boy, who would respect and love a girl, knowing that, she is as precious as he is. Her parents too rejoiced the same way, his parents did.
I want to raise a little boy, who knows that, She is equal to him not in ‘many’ ways, but in ‘All’ ways.
I want to bring up this tiny gentleman in such a way that,
He lets her get into the lift first.
He opens the door for her.
He does not let her walk behind him, but beside him.
He does not smoke on her face.
He fights hard the feeling of not to touch her without her consent.
He who does not treat his wife as the “better half”, but as the “best half”
He who points to his daughter and says, be like mom. And to son, bring a girl like mom.
He who is a little generous to her flaws.
He who listens to her.
He who fights for her.
‘Her’ can be his best friend, his classmate, his wife or could be any random girl.
The more I think about the boy, the more I understand the world.
Saving the girl child is not the need of the hour, but Raising you Boys to be Wonderful Gentlemen is the cry of the hour.
Leave the girls alone, watch the boys.
Watch them, watch yourself. What you talk to them, what you let them see.
After all bad boys are not born, they are created.
Take care of your boys, and girls will take care of themselves and the rest will fall in place and the world will fix its women problems altogether and once and for all.
I promise to take are of BabyVed; and yes your Girl is safe 🙂
A little boy’s Amma.
They pampered me, spoiled me with their love, loved me more than my parents, taught me to laugh and live and explained about the greatness of our forefathers. The well spent time of my life was definitely with them.
I was my Grandparents Favorite. So was my brother, little cousin Sister and the ones that followed.
In short, they had many favourites, and I was just one among them.
He made sure I grew up like a Princess in our Modest Home in Chennai during my growing years.
I had everything I wanted under the Sun, or at least he promised he would get them for me.
He wiped those petty tears, Laughed at the nonsense talks, always acted as the missing puzzle and swallowed my poor Self-Esteem and moulded an utterly useless pack of mud into a woman. Whatever I have today or iam today, its only because of my Dad.
He loved me beyond measure, he believed in me, the biggest gift he gave as a dad.
But then, he loved and believed my brother too. He had another child to love. To embrace. He lavishly shared himself and again I was 1 in 2.
I always used to tell him, “Appa, if something happens to me, you have another Child. But if something happens to you, I don’t have another Dad”.
She gave birth to me, nursed me, taught me everything right from eating to spitting. She worked hard inside and outside the house. She spent her young days caring for this little girl but so did she for the little boy too. My brother.
Infact she loved him more than me. After all I was just the 2nd tenant in her little womb.
Yet again I was 2nd to everything.
There was love; there was joy; there was wantedness. But then, I was either tagging behind someone or was one among the many privileged.
Then came my Son, and I knew I have never felt this loved, until he loved me.
He loved me and loves just me at this moment.
I know his heart is full of me.
He told me so, while he looked intensely into my eyes and pierced my soul innocently.
I knew, I always knew, I was just another woman in this world until my Son popped out to tell me that iam his World.
Its not the way he smiles, but the way he cries out for me are the moments that stand out and make me a Champion.
The imperishable moments are those I have failed to capture in my camera. But they are imprinted deep in my heart, so deep that it will not fade away and live long after my heart stops beating or memory fails.
Here’s to you my beloved Ved, My Boy, who made me so wanted and special and a Superwoman.
Life suddenly feels so fresh and blemish-less like your babysoft face.
Come here my little one, let me hug you a little longer for tomorrow might be the day, you will fall crazily in love with your Superhero Dad and once again I take the backseat.
A little boy’s amma.
He Changed my World,
And added meaning to it !!
He Painted my Scars,
And added Colours to it !!
He filled my Empty Heart,
And added loads of Memories to it !!
He robbed off every Tear,
And made Rainbows out of it!!
He wiped away all the Dark Nights
And added Uncountable Twinkle Stars to it !!
He laughed away every Fear of Future,
And filled it with Bright Promises for tomorrow!!
He chased away the heartache of the past,
And filled it with his Baby Cuddles!!
He made sure my life was never the same,
And added Sugar & Spice to it!!
He overturned my Fortunes,
And added Priceless Little Moments to it !!
He kissed my Invisible Wounds
And made Treasures out of it!!
He bought home tiny Rainbows, little hugs, lovable cries and soulful laughter. And my life was never the same.
A Little Boy’s Amma.
1)Of how Handsome or Cute he looks:
The other day, I read an eye-opening article , that children who are complimented based on their looks, grow up to have personality disorders.
Alternatively, please tell Baby Ved that, he is;
Do add anything to the list to construct his character in a positive way.
2) Are you Dada’s Boy or Momma’s Man:
This is one of the ridiculous questions I have encountered all my life. I have always chose either of the two and immediately wanted to rewrite the answer. I would wonder if the other parent loved me any less.
This confuses the child as to who loves him the most or wait, something like whom he loves the most. For sure you are sowing seeds of doubt in his little brain.
He is ours and we are his!!
3) Mathematics Score:
I would forgive anyone and everyone, but not this culprit. Trust me, I have (as a child) refused to visit some relatives just because they scared the hell out of me by popping this question. They asked for Numbers. Please ask my son about Disney Shoes and Cars and Bikes but no ‘numbers’ please.
Even if he does not look like mommy, he for sure hates numbers like her. I think so 😛
4) What is your ambition in life:
This would definitely top the list of ‘insensible’ questions to children. When I was a child, I would take a couple of seconds to respond to this question and immediately some family member would do the honours for me and declare “she, Priscilla, wants to become a doctor”. Honestly my ambition was to marry a Chocolate Factory owner and eat chocolates every day. I’m not sure if I really knew the spelling of a doctor, but I for sure made them smile. They that heard my ambition. Not sure if they smiled because they were proud or smiled, cunningly.
BabyVed is a child. He does not have great ambitions. For the moment his ambition is to pull down the trays in the Kitchen, and sit with a pile of Onions and Potatoes all around him. Trust me; he is working hard towards it.
Let’s not spoil their creativity. Let’s not force them to live our dreams. Let them dream for themselves. Let’s not draw boundaries. And clip their wings. Let them fly and explore as much as they wish and reinvent themselves.
5) Comparing ‘HIM’:
This is a BIG ‘No’ for me. He is unique. That’s what I tell him every day. I really don’t care if your Grandchild, took 8 steps at 8 months and you find BabyVed still lazying around and crawling. That’s fine with me. As I told you he is Unique. For that matter every baby is. He is himself. He is not faking his milestones. I would any day welcome your positive criticism, to his flaws but not your discouraging comments please.
6) What he owns – ‘materialistic’ –
BabyVed is a ‘Single’ Child (as of now). But that does not mean we have taught him, ‘his’ toys, ‘his’ food or ‘his dress’. You can walk into our house any day and take any of these, except ‘His laughter’ and him.
I would appreciate if you can refrain from asking him, “is this your house” or “this this your own house” and anything that points to materialistic possession.
7) Your parents are working so hard, so better be good:
Our parents were extremely hardworking. They never told us. We found out as we grew. Same way, we don’t want Baby Ved to know what we are doing for him. He did not choose us. We chose him. We needed him, we longed for him. We could have lost him to any home or parent. But he was meant for us. Meant to shine in our lives. We prayed that, we hold and hug him every day.
So it is our responsibility to provide for him. By all means. Till my last breath, I want to keep working hard for him. It’s my duty as a parent and if we keep telling him this, then am not his momma and he is not my little boy anymore.
While I totally understand that we need to gel as a society to raise better individuals, I would like to emphasise that it should only be in a positive way.
Society can kill and inspire dreams. Our Next generation needs inspirations; they need to look up to us every time they stumble, not run away from us.
Raising baby Ved as a wonderful gentleman is my responsibility, but of course I could use a little help from every one of you.
A little boy’s amma.
The Ignorant 1st 4 weeks:
Never had the faintest idea that I was going to be a Mother. Life was business as usual. Random thoughts like “What if this is the month” to weird thoughts like “No way”. I kept brushing off the Angel voice that kept whispering “Good News on the way”. I eventually found out that I was 4 weeks through and took some time to sit down and let the feeling to sink in “yes I am actually pregnant” and did not understand how far I was.
The Indecisive 5+ weeks:
With positive tests and a lot of blood work, I started the journey of “Road Less Travelled”. More blood work and uncontrollable excitement marked my days and anxious nights. Cautiously walking, eating slowly so that not even a crumb of bread hurts the tiny one in my tummy. It sure was an exhausting experience for a first timer.
Almost felt light like I always felt, sceptic dreams gave me chills, fearing the worse, what if all this was just an illusion.
The non-existent 8 – 20 weeks:
As I was excited to go through the procedures to hear the Heartbeat of my co-occupant on a set date, I was informed of another heartbeat that stopped. I was told that my Dad breathed his last as I went through the crucial ‘make or break’ week of pregnancy. My world blacked out at that very same moment I knew my little one had a heartbeat and a rhythm to it. I wanted to be unaware of what happened around me.
For a thousand moments I wanted to give-up. Because that will help me to cry out loud the least. But this bothering little thing inside my tummy, did not even give me the freedom to do my basic right. I was angry. I was frustrated. But least did I know that my very reason to breathe another second and live another day was this little ball like foetus. I would time and again, gently lean over and say “Baby, please hang on and don’t give up like Granpa”. That incident bought down my human existence and pride to nothing. Life and death not in my hands. Here I am holding my dad’s mere lifeless body in my arms and same time I have a little life developing inside of me. I am not sure, if I should be proud of this moment, of my strength to endure this moment. Here I am welcoming a new life and bidding adieu to another. When I look back I am so thankful to God for creating me a woman to experience this.
Though I wouldn’t have wished a slow and painful death to dad or to anyone, the least a daughter can ask is a ‘good-bye’ and not a humiliating disappearance. I froze, time froze, days froze, dreams froze, my future froze, I crashed into the moment and held on to the little hero in my tummy as I travelled back to my in-laws place all alone to resume back, what people called ‘normal’ life.
Heartbeat – check; Nausea – check; stupidity – check, more nausea – check, heartburn – check, sleepless days and nights – check; swollen feet – check; growing tummy – check; Somersaults -check . But every nausea and vomiting and hospital admissions for Hyperemesis was a sign that I was carrying a Hyper- active bundle of Joy. No regrets whatsoever. Worth every little discomfort.
25+ weeks I regained some sense and lost a little with Bed rest:
Baby V had always kept me on my toes, not just running for nausea, but frantic hospital trips for ‘Slow movement’ to ‘no movement’ & counting kicks per hour, days just flew by. Confined in bed, I never felt alone. Moments I wanted to give up, nights I sat up & sobbed, my tiny unformed baby would gently nudge me inspiring in ways I cannot imagine. It was like, “mom I am there”. I dared not give-up and that marked the beginning of my maternity leave.
The reassuring 30+ weeks:
Anytime, anyhow, I was prepared for labour for I knew from now on I will carry my baby to birth. Yes you read it right. I admit that I had my own fears about it. Oh every momma has it. For I know as premature as he may look, we can save him. Yes again you read it right. I had a strong feeling it was going to be a baby boy. A Happy Christmas weekend it was with the people I loved the most. Every second anxiously waiting for the so called ‘labour pain’ or the much hyped about “false labour pain”. None came. I still walked around with a tummy full of baby 🙂
The 37th week – I knew it was today or tomorrow:
For I know the most memorable and the day I will cherish forever will be this week. Not because I am a fortune teller but my gyneac told me so. It was a planned delivery. The day came as fancy as it can be 15.1.15 and out came baby Ved, crying with a heavenly tone which I was sadistically happy about and wanted to hear it over and over. He looked like my dad. He looked like my future.
I admired him, I adored him for countless milliseconds before he was gently tucked away.
My dad was right, he dint lie, when he promised me, that he will be there with me forever and ever. Yesterday as a dad, for today and forever as my Son.
Dreams, dreams and nothing but dreams:
Dreams of how beautiful my baby would look. The long locks of baby hair he would have. I imagined and painted infinite pictures of my baby. Of how tall he will look like my granpa, and those funny ears like his dad. All said and done, I negotiated with God big time for baby V to have the same Angelic smile my dad had. I dreamt on setting no limit for myself.
But the moment I saw baby Ved for the very first time, I was hit hard and filled with shame for all my dreams and the below quote aptly defines it,
“God’s Blessing will put you Best Dreams to Shame”
Baby Ved looked nothing of what I Imagined, but everything of God wanted him to be.
Fashioned by the Master’s loving hands.
A word of Thanks to people who don’t expect it:
To my docs, to the kind hospital support staff, to my best friend Mr K, to that colleague who let me take that window seat, who gave me way and offered to carry my laptop bag, My managers, to that kind bus driver who waited till I crossed the road and the warm smiles the strangers gave me when they saw me struggling with a big tummy. For everyone who prayed for me, encouraged me, my friends who kept me sane, My brother my greatest pillar of strength and finally my family and extended family for pitching in and providing that amazing support. And yea this note would be incomplete without mention of Baby V’s Daddy Cool who chose to keep quiet during my anxious moments. Trust me it helped a lot. He is one amazing personality who can make a lot of difference by just sitting around and not saying a word. Amazing presence.
2 important lessons I learned during pregnancy:
Through many dangers, toils and snares we have already come, this Grace that’s bought us safe thus far and Grace will lead us home.
A little boy’s amma.