This is for you, bro!

I am SO VERY proud of you!

With friends like this...

I got the much needed haircut this past weekend (yay!!!) I go all the way to New Jersey to get the darned haircut. I told GND my plans for the weekend in an email exchange on Friday. She asked me not to tell her if I decide to eat at Khaasiyat or Saravana Bhavan while I am in NJ. I did eat at Saravana Bhavan. Idli, Dosa and yummy Philter Kaapi. Well, since I am such a considerate friend, I won't tell her. 

I'll blog about it here instead.

And leave her a link.

Mwahahahahahaha!!!!!

Happieee... deeey

as you say it, my not-so-little-anymore little one! Or, in our words, Happy Birthday. 

You are two today. You are fun. You are active. You are headstrong. You are a pleasure to have around except when you decide to be utterly disagreeable to anything and everything. Then you want to have nothing to do with us, and we are only too happy to oblige. Then, when you have had some time to yourself, you revert to your happy, sunny self. Or maybe not. I can't believe how chilled out we have become as parents! Your tantrums in public places don't embarrass us, your screaming fests don't faze us and your occasional hunger strikes don't send us into panic mode. We know you will eat when you want to eat and that is fine by us. You go to sleep without any fuss (most of the days) by yourself and that is the best habit we think you have. And of course, we proudly accept all credits for that! You wake up happy and sometimes let us  grab some extra shuteye on weekends by playing quietly in your crib until one of us stirs. That consideration itself is a reward enough for all the tantrums you throw otherwise.

You have suddenly started speaking in 2-3 word sentences. You have started speaking clearly too, though I am trying my best to have you keep your baby language. Kakkay sure sounds way better than Thankyou, you know. And that reminds me - you are such a well mannered child at least when it comes to thanking people. You even say "kakkay" in your sleep when we cover you with your blanket on chilly nights. You just recently started saying "owwy" (sorry) when urged to do so, dropping all your reluctance and overcoming your ego, you little diva! And about 4 months ago you put my fears to rest when you stopped being in a constant competition with your sister. I used to worry that you two will grow apart emotionally due to the brattiness you constantly showed to and against your older sister. Now you seem to have accepted her as a part of the entire package :P

You like being independent and who are we to resist a blessing in disguise? Yes, it means you insist on buckling yourself into your highchair while we tap our feet impatiently. But it also means you clean up after yourself most of the times. Or help with the cleanup. And that you drink most of your milk without parental supervision and eat most of your food without us having to shovel it in your mouth. "Most" being the keyword here. I wouldn't mind feeding you the entire meal because, truth be told, that would be infinitely faster but I firmly believe in preparing my kids to be progressively independent. It is a good thing for both of us that you agree.

I loved the days when you started calling me "Mai". And I love how sweet "Didi" sounds coming from your mouth. I feel blessed when didi (older sister) replies in an equally sweet voice to your calls, no matter how busy, rushed or upset she is. I hope this love and bond between you two grows each day and stays long after we are gone.

You find it funny to run away when we are trying to take your picture. Or when we are trying to change your diaper. Or when you need a bath. In short - running away is GREAT FUN to you :) And you love gardening with us. It is another matter that gardening, to you, means picking up soil from one place and dumping at another, or poking fingers into leaves. Well, at least you don't make appetizers of the earthworms :P You love sneaking into your sister's room when she is away at school. I love how you pick one of her stuffed toys out of her ample stash and run out of the room waving it victoriously over your head. I also love how you put things back where you picked them up from if we ask you to "put it back". Even super-tempting knick-knacks you find in your sister's room.

There are way too many things you do, say and enjoy for me to list here. I'll just say that I am enjoying life with you. I am living in the moment. All of us are. We can't even begin to imagine what we did to pass our time before you came along. We can't remember who what we laughed at or spoke about. You have filled our lives with fun and laughter to the brim. We all love you darling. Happiee deeeey!

All it takes is a few words

She brought up an interesting point in this post. I have been meaning to write along similar lines ever since I lost my dad. This just brought that need to blog about my observations and feelings to the surface.

When Pa died, many friends and family rallied around us to provide support. Even strangers wrote to offer condolences. For that I will be eternally grateful. But many others chose to stay quiet. Many friends and relatives chose not to call me or my mom. Maybe it didn't occur to them, or they didn't know what to say. A childhood friend didn't visit me or mom for days. He came just a couple of days before I was to leave. Only one of J's cousins took the trouble to find my number and call me to offer his condolences. The rest, even though they knew my dad had expired suddenly, kept away. Even some close (so-called) family members haven't said even two words to me about it. Yet. That hurt me deeply. Still does. I have always maintained - don't keep in touch with me during good times, I'll still remember you and be your friend. Avoid calling me during tough times, when you KNOW I am going through them, you lose me. On the other hand - I will forget every wrong you have done me if you extend that helping hand or lend that listening ear in times of need. Selfish, I know. But that is how I am.

I have observed that we Indians (in particular) are experts at avoiding discussions about our loss. I needed to vent my feelings of loss. I needed someone to talk to. I desperately needed to cry and let it all out. But no one would let me. Anyway, thank God for J. He let me do all of the above. When I came back, I noticed that friends always paused for a second if I mentioned anything funny about my dad or the fun times we had when we were little, or even anything about his sudden demise. Maybe they took the time to figure out how to respond - laugh when it is certainly time to grieve?? Will I take an offence? Would they say something inappropriate by mistake? I did appreciate this thoughtfulness on their part but a part of me wanted for someone to come up and share their memories of my father. I wanted to feel that connection. I know it was too much ask of friends who probably had never dealt with this situation ( a friend losing a parent suddenly and tragically).

In the days following immediately after Pa's death, we (Ma, my brother, cousin, assorted uncles and aunts and visiting friends) would frequently bring up fond memories of Pa and laugh about them. Somehow it felt cathartic. It felt like we had lost him but the memories will be ours forever. 

This is something I have noticed - humor makes you heal faster (after a loss). In Jan 2006, when I had to undergo an MTP, I was devastated. I would cry all the way on my drive to office and back. I would cry all day IN office. I would cry myself to sleep oftentimes. I still feel a twinge on or around September 3rd - the would-have-been due date. Even after I have had another baby, I cannot forget the one I lost. I don't think any mother can. But slowly I started making occasional light comments. e.g. I told one friend what a total waste of labor pains it had been when the Tylenol I took didn't work and I could feel every contraction that was being brought on by the drugs given to induce a miscarriage. [Really - the contractions felt like labor pain. The only difference was that they were limited to a very small area compared to a full-term pregnant belly] It is then that I realized that I was getting over that loss a little bit. 

Now, even before MM wrote her post, I had figured out why people behaved the way they did. Loss makes them uncomfortable. It brings them face-to-face with their own possible loss. Or maybe they don't know how to comfort the grieving party. Or they are afraid they'd say or do something to hurt the feelings of the person suffering the loss. I don't always know what to say to the near and dear ones of someone who has passed away. But that doesn't stop me from picking up the phone. I recently lost my Bua. It was tough finding the words to talk to my phupha about it so I just cried with him over the phone. What I mean to say is - if someone you know has lost someone or suffered a misfortune, don't stay away even if you don't know what to say. Just be there. That will be enough. Or say how sorry you are for their loss. Or, if words fail you, send a card or an email. I know emails are considered rude but when I wrote about Pa's death, I received a number of emails from people I didn't even know. They just read my blog and took out the time to write a few lines. That gave me comfort and strength. Made me feel I was not alone. In tough times, I would take an email from you any day over your silence. Anything that shows me that you care.

MM wrote about miscarriages in particular. But her commenters added death of children to that list. And I am adding ANY kind of loss or misfortune. Because I have seen that people do hesitate in discussing loss. The day I announced my pregnancy (at another friend's baby shower - I was showing already) and mentioned that I conceived through IVF, a hush fell over the table. I don't blame anyone for that. People just aren't used to sharing such details. Infertility treatments, I assume, carry a stigma with them (from the way I have seen people react to the mention of them back home). I don't know why. Why anyone would object to, or turn their nose up at, a means of getting that sweet, cuddly baby when all else has failed, is beyond me. Maybe, going through the process has given me the required shamelessness. I still remember the silence at the other end of the line when I told a friend about my pregnancy over the phone and mentioned that the IVF procedure had taken a toll at me mentally and physically. Thankfully no one was insensitive enough to suggest that I hadn't done enough (like stand on my head?) to conceive or that I couldn't conceive because I had delayed getting pregnant. I would have bashed their head in.

When, after the first round of IUI, I conceived we rejoiced. And told our family. And then during the first ultrasound we found no heartbeat. We actually found nothing. There was a black void where the fetus should have been. The gestational sac was a black, disintegrating emptiness instead of being a round gray/black/white image of a peanut pounding away like a horse running on a wooden deck. I remember I had subconsciously realized that things were not right a day before. I woke up and realized, with a start, that I hadn't gotten up even once during the night time to go to the bathroom and that I hadn't been feeling dead tired for the last 2-3 days. My heart sank and then the fears were confirmed in the cold ultrasound room the next day. 

All I remember from those days now is the people who rallied around me. Who provided comfort through their words or actions. The HR Director of the company I used to work for, poked her head into my office one day and said "I admire your courage" (I was trying to work through the labor-like contractions that were induced by the drug for MTP. I took it on a Thursday, expected it to start working on Friday and be done with everything by Sunday. Didn't happen that way - I had to take another dose on Monday). What I mean to say is, the littlest of gestures during some one's tough times goes a long way. So, don't hesitate. Pick up the phone or reach out with that hug. 

When I finally conceived after the second IVF and we had confirmed that the fetus was viable at the 8 week ultrasound, we were still scared to celebrate. We didn't tell anyone for almost three months. But then I realized that even if this pregnancy failed, I would like to have celebrated it while it lasted. Because I WILL mourn it for the rest of my life if it failed. So J and I went out for  a movie and dinner. I wanted to shout out from the rooftops, but I was too superstitious after my previous loss. If I had to do it all over again, I'd tell close friends from the beginning. Because a hard-earned pregnancy, however short lived, deserves to be celebrated.

And remember humor? I used it throughout this pregnancy. It helped keep me sane otherwise I would have died of worry. I told people I had to undergo IVF because we had been diagnosed with idiopathic infertility - that is when idiots (like us) who already have a child, can't conceive (because they forgot what to do!) I demonstrated how I used to take my IVF shots (Close eyes, Point, JAB!) because, even after 300+ IVF shots I gave myself during two IVF cycles, I was (and am) still scared of needles. I used to joke that I would make a lousy junkie. All this (and J and support of friends and family) did help me get through all that. But most of all, through ALL my losses and misfortunes, the thing that has carried me is my friends and their support, J and HIS support and love and support from my family. 

So don't hesitate - do call and say "I am SO sorry for your loss" if a friend needs to hear it. I know, I still hold a grudge against some people who didn't, and then (4 months) later tried to cover it up by saying something lame like "oh yes - I heard about your dad. Sorry, huh?!" in the middle of some other conversation. Or "I would have called you but I didn't have your number". The same person magically found our number two weeks ago when she needed us and called us at midnight. DUDE!! At least show some compassion by either saying it sincerely or keep your trap shut! Oh well. At least they are better than people who didn't call me, not even on Diwali which was SUPER tough for me emotionally, and then complained that I didn't call them on Diwali or Hindu New Year. Yeah riiiiiight!! I am SO sorry for being so rude. NOT! Why am I writing all this here? Because it is my blog? To finally get rid of the hurt that comment caused.

I know I have rambled. I won't apologize for it. I needed all this to come out. I would have loved it if I could make a coherent and sensible post out of it but oh well!!

Que Sera Sera, what will be will be.

She wasn't the svelte nymphet anymore. Turned out more "headstrong" than he ever imagined.

 

She’d had her dreams of finding another family shattered too, and how! Overcame the bitterness with great difficulty.

 

They fought bitterly, made up tenderly - even after so many years. They’d faced losses and celebrated triumphs. Together.

 

The Gods weren't sniggering anymore.