A Loving Prayer for my newborn Niece

My Dearest Brother Digvijay and Prachi 

I was thinking of you both for a lot many days before your baby arrived as I waited for the news! On my way to work and back, I waited and then some more!!  So here is something I've been thinking, and mulling and sort-of wish you too- Now that she's finally here, its here for you, with my prayers and best wishes to your little FAMILY!!

You met one day, 

By the good Lord's will,

and promptly fell in love,

Then marriage vows united you, 

with blessings from above.

The years roll by,

with life on a high,

and loved ones watch and cheer,

you live in joy and love complete, 

now your little darling is here!!

So, wish you wonderful years ahead

and I want to say just this,

May His blessings always shower you all

with Love and Care and Bliss,

and as you gaze upon her face,

and hold her close to your heart,

she fills your lives with amazing Grace,

and this is just a start!!

'Life is Love' and no one else 

can show us this so clearly,

as this little gift of Love in your arms,

that you both hold so dearly!!

God bless this little one,

as she fills your eyes with tears of merry, joyful laughter,
this angelic bundle of delight, your precious little daughter!!

- (this is something I wrote last night for you both)

May you all have a life full of total Joy...she will soon begin to grow and make your hearts just glow with pride at each and every moment! I Pray that all your moments are filled with this little very REAL DREAM!! She will smile, and yawn, cry or sneeze, roll and then crawl, and walk holding your hands,and give you all her love making you feel like the luckiest people in the world!! 

You gaze at the little miracle so perfectly formed, and instantly fall in love again!! Her tiny, perfect hands and toes, her little eyes and downy hair, her baby-smell, her sleepy face, her cuddly, snuggly warmth... As you hold her close and stroke her face, remember how much you were loved by our parents too, and now its your turn- to give it back to the Universe and especially to the proud grandparents!! 

So cherish her, love and share the miracle of parenthood, in all its beauteous glory...

There's nothing quit like LOVE, when it comes to life's story!

I'm sure, in time, she will learn all about life from two of the most loving, adventurous, wise and special parents in the world, YOU TWO! For now, just enjoy her and experience each second with this most special blessing from God-and reflect on how beautiful it is to just BE PARENTS!!! 

I wish you Love and may God bless her, my little niece...!! I wish I were there, to see her now, but I know in my heart it will be soon....

-with all my love,

yours, Ruch

'Monster-face' runs a race!

(For the past few weeks, we've been reading Winnie-the-Pooh books at bedtime, and Pooh bear's observations, simple truths and lovely tales about him trying to make up rhymes and little songs inspired the title!

The best thing happened this Sunday- Shivangi (with Rani n me) had a day out and SHE won an unexpected medal for participating in the fundraising race! I'd say good day, but it was good in bits and great in places and not-so-good at times, you know!?.....but in the end, she learned to value herself and believe in me- just a little bit, I guess! Feel so grateful for that... Thank you, L & D Hospital fundraising team!

Yesterday, S, R and I went along to the L & D Hospital NICU fundraiser run in our town. (I had signed up for the 2K run along side my 8 year-old Shivangi). Rani was not too keen on the 'running' bit, and was content to stay with a friend and watch us from the sidelines instead. By the time I gave R a kiss and asked her "Are you sure!!?" and watched her nod, then turned around to face S I discovered she was already twenty feet away, and running off along the course!

On the run!

I caught up with her and we settled into a rhythm for about a hundred metres, when she started shouting at me, "STOP, Mummy, STOP, STOP...." I immediately stopped, and she said "don't run, we will walk now"... It would have been disastrous to argue or coax her, so I smiled at her and we took off at a trot, taking in the footballers practising in the field to the right and kept going...! 4 little girls and their families were also running along, as was a toddler perched on her Daddy's shoulders! Eventually, we made it to the last Kilo-meter, and the jolly L & D volunteers cheered S. She started running again, to my utter disbelief! We ran/walked and chatted together, me trying to keep her from pushing herself too far- I know that once that happens, a screaming rage and tears are just around the corner... S coped well, in all, but did not want me to run with her, for some reason, so I trotted behind her!
As soon as she was within sight of the finish line, she ran off again, and beamed and smiled a 100 Watt smile which made me feel elated!

Home again!

The medal and goody bag she got only served to make her more joyous, and she hugged her little sis Rani delightedly. Posing for pics, she made my heart swell with joy and love, and it was a terrific fundraiser for the NICU where she had spent the first 5 days of her life...! ( more about that here)

Posing with sis!

A Special School

Not so long ago, (in the first week of September in fact) my exuberant little 8 year-old started a new chapter in her life. Actually, make that OUR lives. She started attending her new school- a Special School for children with severe, complex behavioural and learning difficulties... Her old school, which her little sister, R (6yrs) still attends, is still linked to her in my heart. Her teachers, friends, other parents, all ask me how she is doing in her new school, and how she likes it there...and each day I tell them that she's settling down, loves school and falls asleep on the bus ( I wake her up, every school-day morning at 0630...) R's new class is right next to S's year 3 classroom from July. In walking along the corridors, with R by my side, I recollect the pain and unshed tears I buried inside me each day, as I resolutely removed myself from S and her class. She would be fine on some days, and absolutely livid or tearful on others, depending on how she felt that morning....The class teacher and T.As always reassured me that she was usually fine a few moments after I left and carried on. Sometimes, this knowledge was the only string holding me together.

Nonetheless, since S has started attending a Maintained Special School in our town things have slowly but surely changed for the better. Of course, we still have those off days when she is screaming in fury or frustration and I am bloody ready to tear my hair out... But I am learning to cope with her mood swings, her hatred/love for me and her need to do things her way....My husband helps me understand her somewhat better, and I dare say I feel horribly envious of the splendid way in which he manages her behaviour... ASD wise, her journey is smoother, because of the specialist input of her teachers and T.As at her new school. I guess the best example is she's amongst children who share some of her specific special needs and the adults in the School are trained and experienced enough to cope, help and support them in their journey to learn and grow in their life. The new school is well-equipped to handle her needs, guide and support her learning and help her become a whole, rounded person despite her difficulties.

The one thing that gives me untold peace is the fact that she is settled there; happy and already making friends again. After years of struggle by her splendid Primary (mainstream) School, and us parents, it was a sigh... Yet, to this day, if you were to ask me if my child has ASD I would have to honestly say "I DON'T KNOW." Not because I doubt the it, but because there has been no formal diagnosis, not yet, anyway. Her Paediatrician has always maintained that she "May present with a dyslexic profile, in future" or " Could be on the spectrum" which is kind of open-ended; neither here nor there...
It was in a chance meeting with her Paediatrician, (again, at the hospital where I work that I learned about a review of S and her difficulties) arranged by the Ed Psych (Educational Psychology) team to take place in the near future. She asked me how S was doing and I told her about the new school S is at, for children with behavioural and learning difficulties. The doctor informed me that there would be a review arranged for S and her needs, looking to assess her needs in a measurable and identifiable manner. She mentioned the ADOS (Autism Diagnostic Observation Schedule) test and I made a mental note of the same. (read more about ADOS here) The assessment is timely and yet long overdue at the same time...

All this, again, would not have happened if it were not for some very dedicated, helpful adults- the Family Worker (Mrs A), her teachers' inputs and help and the SENCO at her previous Mainstream Primary who included my letter to the SENAT definitely spurred things on. It is all I needed, someone to listen and take note of things from my perspective.... It has taken my worries, my tears, my stress and my pain ,and made it all worthwhile- because, finally, someone is able to reach out to her and help her learn at her level, at HER pace. She has done well because of the patience, perseverance and persistence of her T.A's over the last few years. At her Mainstream Primary, the class teachers and T.As were terrific! Always supporting her to the requisite degree- not letting her feel left-out, yet not making her work beyond her potential.... They shared a bond far beyond the calling of a teacher and a pupil. Shivangi, in her inimitable way, has touched their hearts... This morning, I met her old T.A in the school corridor after dropping Rani to her classroom. We exchanged a hug, and she asked after Shivangi's well-being. It was a moment when I realised how deeply S has affected the lives of all of us- her Parents, her teachers, her friends...even strangers!

On the UP side, just a month or so after joining the New School, she visited Ashridge Woods on a School Trip and loved it! We talked about it the next morning (I am at work till 2200 each day of the week, barring some Saturdays and Tuesdays) and she spoke about playing on the 'Bumpy Hills' when her teacher let go of her hand briefly, and brushed aside my concern for her nettle-scratched hand with endearing 'grown-up' ness..." Its FINE, Mummy... I didn't even cry!" My little Ms Tornado is finding her feet now..!
But, there is a DOWN side to it too... now that S has settled in to her new school, she has begun to 'copy' behaviour that she sees around her. Considering that some of the children there have developed their own 'coping' mechanisms and have a varying degree of special needs, I find it heartbreaking and also a bit insensitive on S's part that she shows no remorse for her own behaviour. (i.e, when she copies other children and their behaviour). Should I put it down to her 'echolalia'  or mimicking others? Is that good, bad, or very bad!? How do I get through to her?? She nods and smiles when I tell her not to copy other children and their behaviour, as they may have learned to cope in that particular manner. She will sometimes repeat, "I must not do that", "I must not copy", "It is BAD.." but she does it nonetheless.... A teacher and one of my friends on an FB group 'different for girls?' (you know who you are!) suggested I use stickers or cards to remind her so as to not nag her all the time... maybe use simple PECS symbols or pictures etc...A similar situation arose in her second week at her new school (read more on my P.E.C.S: Our version PAGE)

In the last six weeks, she has had fuss-free school transport (she's being picked-up and dropped off at the doorstep, everyday as we live more than 4 miles away from the School), healthy school meals (which we can afford now thanks to my extra working hours' regulations) and is enjoying her learning, participating in the school routine which is specifically tailored to suit children with severe or complex needs, like herself. Gone are the days of struggling to get her into her class and watching her scream and cry as she hated letting me go away, which I did eventually, with a heavy heart. Now, she hops on the bus and turns around with the sweetest of smiles, blowing me kisses while I do the same, as the Bus slowly pulls away.....The last thought on my mind as she slowly vanishes into the distance, is of gratitude to God for giving me such a beautiful child who teaches me something about myself everyday...

"Its Friday, it's Friday, the weekend starts on Friday..." sang my little girl last weekend... now, when I drop off/ pick up my littlest to her class, the corridors of the school, the people, the T.As all remind me of her sister's absence... but I know she is happy in the school she's now attending....

Rough and tumble: A & E

It is a well-known fact that children are accident prone. More often than not they fall, bump their head, scrape their face, hands or knees... Or worse still, jump right into danger when their parent or another responsible adult takes their eyes off them for a few minutes. Lulled into a momentary false sense of ( the girls') safety, H tried to multi-task and clean his car while the girls were in the trampoline. Unwatched for a few minutes, they jumped, swung around on the nets and S promptly fell out landing on the hard paved patio. That she did not hit her head and was saved by virtue of her leg caught up in the safety net was nothing short of a lucky miracle. Being as it was, she hurt her arm and the impact made her whole wrist, palm and arm seize up in pain.

The first thing I notice when I get home from work is the frown on her tear-stained face.... She reacts to my "Hello beta, how was your day!?" with a grunt and a rough swipe. S is sitting near her sister in bed, watching a kiddie-movie. It is around 22:00 on one of the last few days of the Summer Holidays... Rani fills me in on the details of her injury. Soon, H walks into the room and we talk about it, briefly. I save my questions and concern for later.... I've learnt from my past experiences with S- if we downplay any minor injuries she is likely to quit making a big fuss over it. Alarm bells, however, ring in my head as I watch her hold her hand partly folded into a loose fist. Suddenly, It doesn't seem all that minor an injury to me. Quietly, I leave the room as H and I take our conversation into our bedroom. I ask him, seriously, if he would take us to A & E??! He says it seems to be better now, and suggests we let her rest tonight, with the possibility of taking her there in the morning. Since I was not present when she sustained the fall, I decide to take his advice and let it rest for a day...

The next morning, 01st Sept. 2012, a Saturday dawns sunny and bright. As the kids awaken and go through their morning routine, I watch S' hand closely for any tell-tale signs of swelling- the indications a fracture. Aside from some screaming and shouting at me (which is the norm, rather than an exception) when I attempt to help her change her clothes, she retains her sour mood- brightening up only around her Dad when he wakes up. I notice her pain, the way she is holding her hand.... and I feel worried, anxious and perplexed at S' behaviour towards me- best described as indifferent, with spurts of clinging shower-of-love moments. I hug her back when she demands it, feeling drained and empty inside.... worried and stressed no end.
As I reluctantly get ready for work, I tell H we should take her into A & E and get her hand examined, as she was still complaining of a lot of pain there. He finally agrees to drop us off and pick us up if we're seen before I go onto my Ward adn start work. We make it there before noon! We're seen by the Lady atthe reception, and I tell her my concerns, she notes down the history, and nature of the injury, and directs us to take a seat. S fidgets and is jumpy, but all I can see is the way her hand and arm look and feel. she does not let me touch her arm at all. After about half an hour's wait, she is shown into the Paediatric A & E area, where she is instantly absorbed by the toys and games. A young nurse with a cheerful smile calls out her name and she shuffles to her feet, smiling shyly. A senior nurse-practitioner examines her arm and hand asking her about the pain and talking to me about the nature of the injury. She asks S about the fall, the pain and where it hurts. S points out the palm of her hand and the area around her wrist. The nurse says it is probably nothing major, but agrees that an X-Ray will rule-out a hidden injury, and given S' ASD, I am relieved at her decision.
After an X-Ray request has been filed, we are shown to the Imaging Dept. via A & E Majors. S wants to touch everything and doesn't want to hold my hand at all. In a few minutes, we're standing at the Imaging Reception, looking into an unmanned reception window, waiting. I glance down at S and smile reassuringly, and she smiles back, her little face barely clearing the window base. she looks like a disembodied cherub-face, floating curiously...! A young man with thin features and blond hair shows up and asks me, " Yes, May I help you?" , and I give him our family name. " Can you spell the name for me please?". S-H-I-.... I begin, and he types it down quickly, looking for the request. " There's nothing on the system, yet," he says, " would you and S like to wait here for a few minutes?" "That's fine, " I say, when S pipes up at the young lad, surprising me. " What is your name?"... " Luke, " he says, smiling at her for the second time, " My name is Luke"... " Hello, Luke!" S says to him, as I look down at her in awe of her friendly, open alter-ego! She's full of surprises at times and sometimes oh-so-predictable... S sits down and points at a chair a little further away from the one she's occupying. I sit down in it, obediently, eyes dancing with a hidden smile. s giggles, and jumps into the seat next to me. We play the "silent-chatter" game, where S whispers loudly and I whisper back in a whisper....talking about anything that interests her. The waiting area is empty, so she does not cause me any embarrassment by asking questions about people with the inherent frankness of childhood.

About five minutes later, a Radiographer calls out her name and we make our way down to meet her. Ten more minutes and we exit the X-Ray room- S grinning from ear to ear, showing off her sticker! On our ay out to Paeds again, we walk past Luke, pushing a portable X-Ray machine in from Majors. " Bye, Luke", S pipes up, making him smile in surprise. I like the way he smiles at her, genuinely touched that she remembered his name! That's my S for you, in a nutshell. She may not remember which shoe goes on which foot, or whether or not her vest or T-shirt is on the right way around, but she never forgets people's names, things they like and how they made her feel...It took us another couple of visits to A & E to sort our her arm, but eventually, I think, I learned something from my daughter that day.

About how pain is a state of mind.
What matters is that one trusts the judgement of an expert, but also makes allowances for the little niggling 'voice' inside.
How a kid will be a kid. Always.

The second visit came on Tuesday, the 4th of Sept. This was the day she had cried a lot, screaming in pain when trying to put on her top, and jumper. Soon, her screaming escalated and became more of an angry outburst, when I tried to help her. In the evening, as soon as she returned from school, we walked over to see our GP, and he said we should go down to A & E again, as the top of her arm was tender and seemed to be causing her pain. The way she held her arm by her side also made me worried. We made our way down, H's uncle dropping us off at the entrance, and we walked in again. The nurse listened to my concern, and referred S to the Paediatrician. The good doctor examined her after a half an hour wait. S was absorbed in the games and toys, and I, in watching her. He said he was reluctant to X-Ray the upper arm cos the hand had been fine, and it was probably a sore muscle. They gave her some Ibuprofen and Paracetamol, and after another half-an-hour, they saw her again. This time, when the doctor asked her if she had any pain, she said, " No." He spoke to me about bringing her in in case the pain worsened, but sent us off with the two painkillers. S was happy enough, and when I told her to go say thank you to the nurse and doctor, she gave them both a big smile and did as she was told. The doctor took her hand and said, " you're welcome, S!" and brought her to the linen room, where they had a box full of teddy bears. He invited S to select one to take home,  and she picked one dressed in her favourite colour- green.

S outside the Hospital, waiting to be picked up.

Post Script: Excerpt from my diary- 

 Have returned from our THIRD trip to A & E... half an hour ago... Its now 2304 Hrs... girls asleep- Raj just managed to put the girls to bed... The A & E sister said it was probably nothing, and when I insisted she was in pain for a couple of days, she thought it was best to X-Ray the shoulder. It turned out to be a fractured humerus.... They gave her a sling and a morning 'fracture clinic' appt for tmrw. Thank God, its not major, but I felt like a fool cos no one would believe me. Hubby stood by me and came along, so that was good... but he also told the nurse-in-charge, about our reason for visit being  ".... my wife, here is worried about my daughter's arm now..." She will be seen by the Orthopaedic doctor tomorrow. I guess if the doc yesterday would have requested an X-ray it would have been picked up then, but its S we're talking about! She thinks everything's a lark!!
Kids fed, watered and tucked into bed. S' Painkillers given. Fast asleep now... A & E staff were brilliant!!! 100% dedicated people! ( Working round the clock, without a break on 12 hour-shifts is no mean feat! SALUT!)

One fine day...

This month, I began to do my first early shifts in over four years (Early Shifts start at 0700 and finish at 1515) and they went well...  I do not know if it was the summery haze, gentle breeze or the bright sunshine, but it definitely helped lift my mood as I cycled home in the afternoon.. There was the prospect of  a nice lunch n dinner for B (my husband), and a walk in the park with my two daughters featuring on my 'yet to-do' list. Returning home, I found the kids upstairs with B, enjoying a 'scary' movie. On the kitchen table, Rani, my youngest,  had left a couple of pictures she drew that morning, one for her Dad,  (image below) who she adores and obeys without question.

R's drawing for her Daddy dearest!

B has a way with them, which I try to observe, now that we have more time together as a foursome. Earlier, he would return from work exhausted, and find the kids in bed already. He would have to restrict his cuddles and loving kisses so as to not wake them up (S is a really light sleeper; R is so much better) But now that he's temporarily off work and in-between jobs, he is finally getting to spend a lot more time with the girls. B's love for them manifests in the way he looks after them, looks AT them and understands and disciplines them. (Case in point- as he cleans up/hoovers/organizes things around our home he has an army of 2 'foot-soldiers'  dusting, cleaning or helping him in his DIY activities etc.)
Now, he even has them wiping down their table after a kiddie meal/treat, much to my amazement!! As I cycled to TESCO to buy some Lunch and picnic treats (for later in the week), I thought about whether the kids really cared about 'going out and doing things' as a family, or, like B himself, they are simply content to play and stay at home?? Was it me who needed to get out, and if so, shouldn't I just go ride my bike for as long as I was tired, rather than persuade all my family to get up and get going when they'd rather not? The difficulty of the decision lies in the varying attitudes of my kids. S, like B is content to do whatever it is he's doing. If he lays down on the bed, munching crisps and watching an old film, she will be more than happy to. R, on the other hand, has inherited my restless spirit... She likes to go out to the park, meet her girlfriends for a few hours (where they hug each other gleefully as if they haven't seen each other in years while us Mums make small talk.)
I cooked, cleared the battle-zone a.k.a kitchen and summoned the girls to dinner. After dinner, I got the kids ready to go to the park. Easy enough, when it comes to R, who is compliant and 'understands' when I say, " Baby, you'll need a sun-hat and can I comb your hair ( more like a 'hornet's nest')  please??!" She sits patiently as I attempt to tame her hip-length tresses using tangle-free (which, incidentally was a great discovery, as it helps overcome the morning school-rush-time tantrums by S), a wide-toothed comb and bands...
S, on the other hand, my delightfully notorious, challenge of a daughter, predictably enough, screamed at the sight of the comb. Okay, I told myself, I can do this! I tried to reason, cajole and persuade her- following it up by an ultimatum "we're NOT going until you let me sort out your hair, dear" and "Please let me, at least, comb it out and give you a hair-band". WRONG MOVE, Ruchita, I told myself... Still, nothing worked. She dug her heels in, and I planted my feet firmly. Face-Off. big time, if you ask me. Inwardly, I was not sure she would comply, outwardly, I put on a brave face- my 'I-know-how-you-feel-but-this-is-non negotiable' face. Minutes ticked by....then she, defiantly, took her wheelie-scooter thing outside the door, and I followed her out and said "we're not going if you don't help me". some of you may be thinking, 'why all the fuss, let her go as she is' but it's not that easy to watch my beautiful, energetic autistic daughter get more than her share of 'looks' from others in the park- (kids, parents etc) simply because she looked like she'd been dragged through the hedge. Backwards.
The last straw came when she lashed out at me, verbally, shouting at me and using the f-word. I told her to go inside and wait for me to get back. I made it clear to her that she was to go "inside and stay with Daddy", who I rang up, half-a-minute later, appraising him of the new situation. He said he was fine, and did talk to her and asked her what she had done wrong? She told him she'd said the 'F' word to me.... They talked about it, and she promised him she would not do that again. After an hour and a half in the park, Rani and I came back home. S had, I hope, learned her lesson. R had a good time. I was totally miserable....  but then, that's life!

Sleep Wars...and other stories.

Sleep. That one restful, peaceful, quiet place that the body needs to go, to rejuvenate and refresh itself. If I speak for myself, sleep had never been an issue, until I became a mother, that is... As a kid, I used to sleep fitfully, from the moment my Ba's (Granny's) stories began to weave a wonderful blanket of images, draping her stories over my psyche, lulling me to a dreamy, secure safe place. Sleep came wafting in, riding the waves of tiredness mingled with excitement..Of listening to another one of Ba's stories and breathing in the smell of her cotton saree as I snuggled close to her, my face pressed into her warm embrace....She had a loving, sweet way of caressing my hair which actually felt like something between a tickle and a scratch, but put me to a peaceful, heavenly sleep! The summer holidays brought us cousins together, and excitement banished all sleep from our eyes! We would spend hours, talking, telling stories and playing games like UNO... (tales-of-a-bedtime-story).
Many moons later, as a young adult at University, I realised another universal truth: Sleep was good, but, no sleep was even better! I revelled in the drawings and inking I accomplished after the rest of the family was asleep, surviving on an unhealthy dose of caffeine, crisps and rock music. Ba would worry, sometimes dropping in on me through the night, to see if I was actually awake, or had nodded-off...

 As a mother, I tried (in vain) to do the whole "Sleep , my little angel, I'll watch over you, awake.." kind of thing- as glorified in Indian films over the ages. Only too soon, I realized that a sleepy, cranky mother is no good to a toddler and promptly took some steps towards a routine, regular bedtime.After the kids came along, however, sleep has been snatchy, elusive and rather too sonorous for my own liking!  As maternal instincts kicked in, exhaustion was relegated to second place as my duties as a mother came first. As I tried to wake up and focus, I'd be telling myself- 'get up, you blob, S is crying... she's probably hungry/wet/cold or bored'.
Even as a baby, S had a way of snuggling-nuzzling a bare arm, and fell asleep holding on to us. It was all very well for as long as she were little, settling in our bed next to us, and my husband was happy as can be... Things became rather complicated when my second Daughter was born 19 months after S. So we finally got the Cot hitched up in our room, and got the little baby into it. S was 20 months old by then and slept with her grandma till we moved into our own home , a few weeks before S turned two. S hated the new-fangled idea I had about them both sleeping in one room. MiL bought a lovely bunk bed for the girls, and S could sleep in it whilst the baby slept in a cot adjacent to the bed. To us, it was obvious she was beyond tired and needed to sleep.  But S had other ideas... she was ANGRY. Soon, to my surprise (although the predominant emotion was dismay and heartache at the state she was in...) she pulled herself up to stand and cried and cried in protest. Did I mention that she never stood up before, with or without support!?
Sleep and S have always had a love-hate relationship. although she loves her sleep and hates getting up in the morning. School mornings are a real pain. as is getting her to wake up. It may be about her (She's definitely NOT a morning kiddo), or may be due to her behaviour difficulties but she equally strongly dislikes being put to sleep.
At six years old, she had progressed from sleeping only next to me/my husband/ MiL, to persuading R, her little sis, to sleep with her in the bunk-bed. Sometimes, as kids often do, R uses this leverage to get S to toe her line and do things she wants S to do for her... Now, after a few years' struggles and discipline, S manages to sleep throughout the night, on most nights, and only appears at my bedside if she is awake in the wee hours of the morning, when she has been woken up by a full bladder, or worse, a wet bed...Or, like yesterday night, finds me awake in bed, and asks me, "Mummy, can you sleep with me??!"

Rather hard to say no, if you ask me, for two reasons:
If I were to say NO, S would have a meltdown/cry/scream then and there, waking up her father in the process.
If that didn't happen, she would climb into bed with us and slowly nudge me away, thereby taking up my whole bed-space till I was forced to get up and sleep in her room, while she happily snuggled up to her Daddy.

See what I mean!!?? S is cleverer beyond my comprehension, but also stubborn beyond endurance...
Either way, I now sleep less and less, from the sheer stress of it all, only managing to nod-off properly:
A) In the early hours of the morning,
B) While I'm watching T.V,
or C) When my husband decides to give me a peaceful night, putting up with the girls in our bed, and letting me get some sleep in theirs.

Sleep, for our lot at least, is elusive, ever-new and gratefully received! If the body is tired, it will sleep. Period. So, my aim these holidays, on the days I am not working, is to get the girls as tired as possible! We walk to the park, or they ride their scooties, and I let them loose, keeping a hawk-like eye on S so other innocent, unsuspecting kids are not put at risk by her swinging hand and swinging mood... This is not to say that she will attack random kids but with her blurring the lines of acceptable social interactions, she sometimes makes other kids feel threatened. Typically, she will pat a kid on the head, or touch their cheek, face or smile right in front of their noses. They react by telling her to leave them alone. She gets upset and takes a swipe or turns away. I always look out for her so I can help her keep social interaction as open-ended as possible... Difficult, but not impossible. Especially in the play-area is close to home. Disputes can be resolved by ultimately walking off homewards, and she follows, screaming and shouting abuses, but calms down once there is no negative reaction from my side. I just tell myself it must be 10 times harder, if not more, for her than it is for me. Keeps things in perspective, if you ask me....But, that's another story...!

Velodrome Victories.

Yesterday was a fantastic day for Team GB. The shower of Olympic gold was impressive, heady and tipped us fans of British Cycling over the edge of ecstasy. (I was at work yesterday evening, and realised the days events ' schedule was CYCLING, when I was with Mr H, one of my patients who loves to follow the Olympics on the bedside telly, and has become a harbinger of Good News for us, as we nurses often ask him about the latest Team GB victories!!) With poorly controlled enthusiasm after a peek at the nail -biting events unfolding on my patients' Hospedia screens, I bantered and chatted with the lovely people- my patients, their families, young kids visiting their Dad, granddad or uncles, as the historic events unfolded! Many of them shared my grins and agreed that this was the most amazing day- with  Sir Chris Hoy, Victoria Pendleton  and the Fab Four boys taking the podium. Here's to many more victories, personal and national, and many many more people who can, potentially discover the joys of bicycling!!!
 As the band played 'God save the Queen...' and the crowds sang as one voice, their voices clear, patriotic and emotionally charged with boundless fervour and joy I felt optimistic, happy and a bit nostalgic myself! Memories of a childhood spent roaming carefree and joyous, along deserted summer streets in India came to my mind. Riding on a bike exploring the neighbourhood with my brother and sister for company in the early 1980s, I had forgotten the freedom and peace just being on a noiseless piece of engineering gives a person! All this happened as I went about my duties, on the ward, but part of me was also proud and thankful to TEAM GB in general and Victoria Pendleton in particular, for encouraging and inspiring me, a mother of 2, to take up cycling again, here in GB. Having participated in two Cycletta events myself, and with increasing confidence as I now cycle on the roads, I feel Cycletta has inspired not only me, but also many thousands of mums, grannies and teenagers alike to join the women's cycling revolution!
Why am I waxing eloquent about my love and passion of cycling, when I'm blogging about my daughter, you ask? The reason is simple, if a bit unusual. When S was four, her Granny (my MiL) brought her a little bicycle for her birthday. S loved a good set of wheels. As a four-year-old, she thought it unfair that her toddler sis gota ride while she walked alongside me. To her great frustration, she had grown too tall for the 'buggy board' I'd used on the back of her baby sister's stroller, to ferry her to nursery and back.
S had enjoyed bumming along on the trikes at her nursery the previous term, and we had hoped she would learn to love riding her bike. All kids do, I figured, and it would give her a bit of gentle exercise, which I often craved myself, owing to our unpredictable TBW: Typical British Weather. If this worked out, I reasoned, it would scatter her daredevil sense of bravado over a wider area of the neighbourhood as she took her energetic self outdoors with me on my own bike...
But it was a case of 'Man proposes, God disposes...'. Mind you, this was before her SN were formally acknowledged via a statement and well before B and MiL even began to comprehend there COULD be some truth to her Nursery School SENCO's recommendation that her School Placement works closely with us parents and investigates her Social Communication, Language & Gross and Fine Motor Skill Difficulties... It was simply too much to expect and dream on my part, I guess. Harder still for her,too. In spite of hours of careful and patient demos from me, and the training wheels still attached, she pedalled, furiously, backwards, rendering herself immobile and immensely frustrated. At our 'attempted rides' she sat on the bike, rigid with anger or pound her feet on the ground and bang her small, sensitive palms viciously on the handlebars yet refuse to get off the bike. In all, the agony I went through watching her helplessly locked in that state of extreme frustration was what put me off kids' bikes altogether.  In S' case, there is something to be said for consistency of behaviour. A pattern has emerged, which I can now clearly see, but at the time, it made me go numb with helpless worry and turned her into a chopper whose blades whirred furiously fast and dangerously close to my sanity. S has always gone from a difficult task=frustration=meltdown. any help proffered is often unwelcome and boy! does she tell me that!  She'll scream, cry and shout at me (or my husband) launching herself into a tizzy of frustration and a cesspool of deep anger...
But today is four-years-later... today is gloriously sunny, and I feel particularly optimistic! I will try today to take my (now) 8 year old (who has always had a love-hate relationships with all tasks involving balancing owing to her motor skills' difficulties) and attempt to get her and her little sister to start riding their little bike. At an appointment last month,her OT (Occupational Therapist) mentioned that if I was keen for her to balance on a bicycle and slowly get used to the idea of stability, (before she even learns to pedal,) I should take the pedals off the bike... something I'm going to try today!
So, whilst they eat their breakfast and change, I'd better get stuck in an sort out their bike, testing its road worthiness, and giving it some TLC via a can of WD 40!
Wish us luck!!

Cakes, Bakes and summer Birthdays- Vol 2

B's birthday was aglow with the beauty of the summer sun, and made me smile as soon as I pulled back the curtains.  Actually, it was R who woke me up with her excited cry of " Mummyyy, we have to finish Dade's cake (she says Daddy and writes it as Dade, and, so did I.)!! So, I got up and we all wished B a very happy birthday.He was sorry he had to go to work (little knowing the surprise I had in store for him later!) and promised to try to get home soon that evening.
After the girls had their lunch, I fried some samosas added squashes for the journey and a packet of Doritos to our backpack and set off with the girls beside me in their summer hats and jumpsuits. We walked to a bus stop nearby and waited for our bus to arrive. After half-an-hour of waiting (by which time the girls had counted cars, trucks and trailers, smiled at babies in buggies and women on bicycles and swigged from their drink bottles a few times) the bus drew up level and we got inside, thankful to have escaped the heat for a bit! Then, S started her favourite 'journey' game, loudly commenting on why the bus made her fall back into her seat (at which I tried to recollect my vaguely remembered knowledge of Physics- momentum and the inertia of motion) She seemed satisfied by my answer but the answer itself, gave rise to more questions. I promised to google it later on, and show her the results. So, once more, peace prevailed in the bus! On public transport, S constantly observes people, things and views out of the window, and occasionally says, "Are we there, yet!!?" a-la- donkey in SHREK. She is fidgety, affectionate and sometimes gets upset when I tell her off for smacking her little sister out in public places. At home, she is always pushing, punching, poking or shoving her sister, which makes me sad and angry.
When we reached Hemel Hempstead, where B works as a store manager in the Town Centre, we thanked the bus driver, got down at the stop and made our way down the high street.
Inside B's store, his staff, who were in on the surprise, tried to help smuggle us upstairs to B's office. S, however, had different plans, and had started giggling, and grinned at her Dad when she caught his eye! So, we all came out of hiding, and it was so worthwhile just to see the delighted surprise on B's face as he said, "Hi!! What are you all doing here!!!?" and scooped the squealing, smiling girls up into a big, high hug!
Later, after an office-room birthday celebration with his good colleagues AB and NG, we headed home after the tills had been balanced and the store closed for the day. The ride home, in B's car was special too, as we felt part of his daily commute; something I had only imagined him doing everyday for the last few years.  the kids chatted excitedly in the back, and nibbled on the Doritos. The wind whipped through my hair as I gazed contentedly at the orange ball of fire that was the setting sun, dipping down gracefully, low on the horizon...It had been a good day!
We chatted about the loveliness of the countryside, his face and eyes bathed in the glow of the sunset. Inside, I smiled and thanked the Lord for having given me the idea and will to do this for us all. In more ways than one, it was a truly beautiful birthday!! Happy Birthday, honey! You are the sun, glowing on my horizon, guiding me home, making me fly... you are the laughter of our children, the naughty twinkle in their eyes, the gentle touch of their fingers and the trusting clasp of their tiny hands... You, my dear, are my life.
Thank you for being mine!
xxx

Cakes, Bakes and summer Birthdays - Vol 1

Today is my B's birthday. That's my girls' Dad, to be specific. He's all of 38, working hard, without a break, since his return from India last month. Last night, the girls helped me clean and tidy up the kitchen, and watched me bake a cake. We had driven B out of the 'female' domain  as soon as he'd had his dinner. He wanted to cook outdoors on a barbecue, and I wanted to get a move-on my my cake. So, with S helping me inside and occasionally rushing out back to check the progress on the sausages, we both managed to finish everything around 2300. Good timing, if you ask me!
B was quite knackered and was asleep as soon as he got into bed. Settling down S was another matter. She has begun to hate me for putting her to sleep, and now shouts and hits out at me when earlier she would snuggle into my arms, or nuzzle my neck and nod off to la-la Land... Its painful, this transformation in my little girl. But I keep my emotions in check. "This too, Shall pass", I remind myself stoically, as the Buddha said...
Today, R woke up first and reminded me that we still need to finish Daddy's cake! After writing out or cards and packing our presents for him (with their approval, of  course!), I cleaned the house. The girls' helped too, by dusting (R) and staying well out of the way (S). At present, they are out on the driveway, drawing rainbows, flowers and hope! Now, on to our next challenge, the icing on the cake. Literally a task so fraught, it makes me want to do it myself. Knowing them, however, I feel that they would love nothing better than to get 'stuck-in' and slap, dash the icing with their own small hands! It may not be the most good looking cake, but it will certainly be brimming with their love!

Last day of School... now the Chinese torture begins...

As much as I love my 8 year old, I am often shocked at her behaviour.... She is usually kind to kids, but is often deliberately unkind to those who are closest to her- Her sister, myself, her grandmother...
Take for instance, today. She pulled her little sister into a big strangle-cuddle around the neck, leaving her bleating like a goat while she grinned like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland, then kicked her on the shins when she cried out for good measure. My husband, when he witnesses such behaviour, tries to ignore it. If it gets too much, gently but firmly tells her not to behave like that. Seems to work for him all-right, but not for me, so I often lose my rag and physically 'rescue' my younger daughter. I know, we're giving S conflicting messages and emotions. To my chagrin, my Bee (as I call my hubby) recommends 'distraction' to me, when I get agitated at the unfairness of it all sometimes my feelings threaten to tip over the edge of reasonable motherly 'punishments' like time out and / or 'quiet-time' which would give her the chance to mull over her behaviour. Now, I have finally come to realize, it is too much to expect from her.

Yes, I do go all 'mother goose' when she (or anyone, for that matter) tries to bully my younger child (or even S). I'm not an in-you-face mother, but neither would I sit on a bench in the park, watching them play, fight or hit each other (which seldom happens in public). Well, you get the picture!

Last Friday was the last day she spent at her mainstream school and the change to a Special School, welcome and full of hope as it is, has made me a bit sentimental. About how she would cop, in a new place, surrounded by new people, kids and a whole new environment about how beautifully they managed to occupy her at her old school. Be it her key-workers, T.As , Class Teacher or PE instructor Mr S who helped her overcome her fear of the balancing beam and the monkey bars, the rope ladders and  the crash mats... now, she jumps and prances in the P.S.H.E class like a new-born foal!! So, as the last day of her schooling at the mainstream primary approached, I wrote to her Headteacher, requesting her permission to take pictures of my daughter wit her classmates, teachers and others who had made such a huge contribution to her well-being at school. The pictures are a memory- bank, and so are the lovely presents she was given.  

Right now, I am thinking of how I and my family will endure the weeks of holiday.Six weeks of hell, more like..Besides, I have not taken  any anual leave... (I have only ten days left of A.L till April 2013). So trips out to the park will be limited to early morning saunters (highly unlikely as they never wake up early) or on my days off, and clubs and groups like F.L.A.G and F.U.N are hard to get to, as I don't drive a car... In all, it looks rather bleak, as Bee is more interested in finishing his pet-project, his Car. 

He is working all week long, and will struggle too...To make matters worse, my brother and Sister-in-Law flew back to India on Friday, leaving me with no one to turn to for advice. My friend P is in Czech republic, with her six yr old, and will be returning, alone, this Friday. (Her son J, will spend the hols with his granny).. Maybe my girls' granny can help!? But she has her hands full at the moment, and looks after them as I work. Apart from cooking, baking, painting, pavement-drawing and running, I have run out of ideas, as her special needs mean she needs my undivided attention so she doesn't pour the whole pot of glue all over the page.

I have no bright ideas on how to occupy my ASDish so she doesn't beat up and bully her little sis all the time. Factor in her screaming, shouting and back-answering tantrums and loud bawling, its no wonder I am at the end of my tether... I dislike the holidays already, and its only been a few hours... I HATE this dread. Hell, I'm supposed to be feeling happy.   : ( 
Maybe distracting her, teaching her new games, giving her freedom of expression on a 'paint' programme on the PC or a half hour on the trampoline out back is the answer. Last month, a friend of mine gave her a box of chalk for her Birthday, so she can draw on the driveway and eat' make-believe' picnic lunches whilst I keep an eye on them from the kitchen window as I clean. MiL had serious reservations about letting them out as we live on a relatively quiet street. She never ceases to voice her concern and greatly influences my anxiety levels (for the worse). I try to listen and still do as my judgement sees fit, but there is always a niggling fear in my head that if she were ever to be proved right (if S were to rush into the path orf a car on the road) she'll never let me live it down.

I will keep thinking positive thoughts, I remind myself!

Celebrating her smiles...

My eight-year-old never ceases to amaze me. With her vivid memory, her zest for life and her absolute, unadulterated love for people she likes and cares for! She often reaches out and caress little children tenderly, or holds her TA's hand and says something so totally, disarmingly simple and heartfelt, it makes my hear clench with joy. She strikes up a conversation as I wait in line at the tills at the shops, sayying "Hello," to perfect strangers with such a genuine, cheery smile on her face that even the most spectacularly serious sort of folk break into a grin and say 'Hello' back! S is very straightforward. She says things like, "This is my mummy...I am shopping with my mummy...", making those of us who are with her or talking to her, smile widely.

Lately, S has been going through what I can only describe as a 'dark phase of the moon'. she would scream and shout at me and other adults at school if she was asked to do something. She has recently resorted to punches and abuse directed at me when I say something to her. On one occassion, we were walking home together, and as usual, I ran through the drill, " let's look left, then right and then wait until it is ok to cross over the road." I was holding my younger daughter's hand and bent down to ask her if she agreed it was 'ok' to cross or not, suddenly, over her head I watched a white van approaching, and noticed the driver hesitate, as if unsure... Instinctively, I whipped my head around, and was horrified to see S prancing into the middle of the road, her naughty, defiant eyes teasing me...daring me. I rushed forward and tried to hold her hand and bring her back, but she kicked-off right there and then, making me feel as small as an ant..... When incidents like this occur, I try to put myself in her place and think of how she would need her mum to react... It takes a few deep breaths and a good deal of self-control (which I, sadly, somehow lack) to refrain from shouting at her and giving her a royal 'talking- to'... Its a constant process of learning to invoke my reserves of empathy and patience and unlearning expectations, rational thought and "Oh, she's just trying to spite me" kind of thoughts...
Today, after nearly a year of watching her temperament gradually change from sunny to surly, I was ecstatic to see the obvious change in her demeanour. She smiled and greeted her Paediatric Occupational Therapists- Kirstie and Sharon at her O T review this afternoon and giving Sharon a big hug, happily settled down to do the activities she was meant to do. K observed, assessed and for some activities, timed her making observations and chatting with me about how I feel things are getting along. We had this review nearly  4 months too late because of other events in our lives and I was secretly thankful they even considered seeing her today. 
K said she has made great progress, which, although not quite in line with S's age-expectations, is progress all the same..."you should be really happy" K told me as she finalised the discharge paperwork and shared her observations with me. I was! Ultimately, what made my day was the big hug and kisses she gave me, and the realisation that, for the day atleast, I would be there to pick her up from school! 

A Special Daughter

My First Child.
Godsend.
She shows me how to span the deepest chasm of doubt and despair,
To look up at the peaks of joy in life, however high or unreachable they may seem...
She's always smiling delightfully,
despite her difficulties... overcoming her lowest ebb with effervescent laughter...
She is, truly  'A Special Daughter'

For any couple, the birth of their child is a life-altering experience and when that child has a special need, whatever it may be, it is all the more so. First-time parenting has its learning curve and, like all of 'parenting', its very own "DOs" and "DON'Ts". My husband and I, too, were touched by the Blessed hand of God when our first child, our daughter S was born.

 Initially, everything was the same just as it is with most parents, and my husband took to fatherhood like a duck takes to water! Those were the days when he worked as a 'Harvester' Restaurant Manager and usually returned home way past midnight, only to go back to work the next day around evening... In the time I got to spend with S, I would put her littleness in her moses basket, put that on my bed and watch her as she slept...! I marvelled at the smallness of her, the perfection of her newborn self, I touched and fell in love with her tiny fingers, the curled-up fists, the softness of her skin, the mop of spiky, dark, jet-black hair... I gazed for hours, at her tiny self, as she slept... and held her close, as she fed.
 We were all so 'taken' with the little one, that apart from feeding and nappy-changing times, I got to hold her only incidentally;  my Mother-in-Law, herself a single mother to an only son- was delighted to have a grand-daughter who looked exactly like her 'baby' did, 30 years ago! So, it came about that my husband felt he / we  'owed' it to her to let her spend as much time as she liked with the little one. She would have S on the sofa next to her for hours, as a tiny infant, with the TV blaring into her little ears, and if she woke up, (which she would do everytime a loud tune played or a sharp sound perforated her ear-drums), mum would jiggle her on her lap to fall asleep again. Nothing I could say would make a difference, so I mostly, kept quiet. I watched the descent of my beautiful child, my divine child into the crass, loud world of TV viewing from a very, very alarmingly early age... When she was two or three months old, I would take her to bed upstairs and try to leave her to fall asleep, but she invariably cried, and MiL commanded me (from downstairs) to bring her down and to let her "put S back to sleep"...

Add the that the fact that in our household, as a new mother, I was deemed too incompetent to deal with things like bathing my baby, or putting her to sleep, I got to hold her in my arms when my MiL was already asleep and before hubby got back home from work... I can see that my memories of her early days and, indeed, months and year, are quite vitriolic, vis-a-vis my MiL... but that is something I have learned to contain... until now. I know I should have signalled to her to let me take a more active role than hubby envisaged for her when he put S in her arms for the first time, but I was a one-day-old mum and totally emotional, so I went along with what he said and did not fight it then and there. This, here, though is ME being ME- speaking my mind, and expressing every positive or negative emotion I ever had, and to hell with the niceties of MiL and DiL relationships... In my honest opinion, MiLs should butt-out and leave the kids to their parents unless the father and mother both shove the baby in her arms and say, mum can we please have a little break!!?? In all honesty, she is a great grandma, and a loving one at that, and since we all lived together for nine years, she looked after my girls as I go to work... but I digress; this is not about my relationship with my Mother-in-Law, but about my Daughter, S.

Time passed us by, and soon it was September..S was now two months old... then Three, then Four...
As she grew and began to smile, I felt as if my heart would implode with joy! I took hundreds of pictures, and wrote to her, so she could read about her first few days when she was older.... I took her for walks in her stroller, along the by-lanes of our neighbourhood.... At night, when my husband returned from work, he would try to creep into the room as silently as possible, so he wouldn't wake her up, only to find her awake in her cot, arms flailing, cooing at him to pick her up. They have always shared a beautiful, simple bond.... deeply loving and special. I went back to working part-time when she was just four months old... I tried the whole " express the mother's milk into a bottle" etc but when  I would be at work, the pain, both emotional and physical, was unbearable. Then, at six months, she started on solids, a little at a time, accompanied by formula, which made me feel, strangely, redundant. She got along with all our relatives, and anyone, could carry her and she would peacefully survey the world from her perch in their arms! So MiL took her grocery shopping with hubby's uncle (MiL's brother) and to visit another of her brothers at his place... S was the cynosure of all eyes and gazed curiously at everything, and generally behaved amazingly well for a eight month old.

When my second daughter, R was born, Raj and I left for the hospital at ten AM on a Saturday, leaving S, 19 months old at the time, at home with Mum ( my Mother-in-Law). R was born just over two hours later and since it was a natural, spontaneous delivery, the doctor agreed to discharge us the very same day. All I could think of was how I wanted my litle family to be one again, and we made the fifteen-minute trip back home from the hospital with R sleeping in her little baby seat at the back of the car. At the traffic lights, my husband looked at my exhausted but eager face and we talked about how S would greet her little sister!?  As we made our way home and finally got inside, S was with her Grandma in the living room.... The memories of that firs day are etched in my mind, as Raj took S in his arms and showed her the baby, asleep in mine. S touched her face, her little nose and her eye... she seemed curious and I felt she looked exactly like a child with a new doll...

That is why, when I was first told she had social communication issues at school and poked and prodded other kids' eyes and pulled their cheeks, I had a sinking feeling in my heart. I tried to rationalise it, but all I could see was that she was aping the behaviour of the adults around her, who would, affectionately, pull her cheeks (gently!). That is a typical Indian way of expressing endearment to a baby or toddler, BTW, just as the in the west we see people kissing their babies!)... To this day, I am fighting a lot of battles for my dear little girl... some with family (her Grandma and I are polar opposites when it comes to understanding her as a child with SN, although Mum is, for her part, a loving grandmother and accepts and loves S unconditionally.) The NHS is studying her development and speculating the future of a diagnosis as she presents as a child with myriad difficulties at present. As of now, my daughter, who turned eight on the 6th of July, is described as having 'complex needs' which range from difficulties with social communication, expressive and receptive language, social interaction amongst her peers, and problems that are related to her behavioural needs, sensory and motor skills...
How 'complex' can she be, however, if she smiles like an angel, gives affectionate hugs, and strikes up a conversation with strangers at the supermarket tills making them smile and chat with her. No matter how old they may be, what their gender, race or social circumstance, she can make anyone sit up and take notice of her. At times, I wonder if this is because she is unbelievably beautiful, with her big eyes, perfect smile and chatty nature (OK, I admit it, I AM BIASED!!)
Celebrating her positives gives me hope, joy and teaches me a lot...
Just a case of looking at the glass as half-full, I guess...
     

Happy Birthday, Shivangi!

Whenever the birthday of a loved one rolls around, I get excited, begin making plans if they're close by my side, or think about how I can get in touch, if we're oceans apart.. I must admit, though, that birthdays also make me ponderous, wistful and, at times, a little bit sad. Just a little bit, though! Last weekend was one such day. What made it extra special and extra poignant is that my first-born, S, turned eight that day.  There's something irrevocable and definitive about birthdays. Especially my kids' birthdays... Like time has been stamped and chronicled...so-and-so is now and henceforth eight years and counting....time that has passed on, never to return...All that remains are memories. Growing fainter and fainter with the passage of time, save those special details that make memories feel so very much alive...and makes me want to write it all down, keeping it fresh in my sieve-like mind!

I quite vividly remember the day she was born in all its glorious details... It was a Monday, and a sunny one at that. I had walked home, after being discharged from the hospital that very morning, after a weekend 'under observation'. After reaching home, I cooked and waited for my M-i-L to return from work. As we watched TV that night, I felt an uncomfortable pain around my bump, as if an invisible band was being gradually tightened around my ample middle... Mum asked me if I was all right, and, since I had no clue, I nodded. Later that night, as the discomfort intensified, she told me to take care and get some rest, and to wake her up if I felt any pain. My husband worked afternoon shifts as a restaurant manager, so I called him and we talked about the possibility that tonight was THE NIGHT!! After an excited exchange and numerous text messages to him, I rang the Delivery Suite team and was told to take some Paracetamol and try to relax until the contractions were five minutes apart. When I told my husband Raj, he just jumped up, and said, "Let's go!!" 

I can recollect, with some accuracy, the way the Delivery Suite Midwives settled me in, and the way I held my husband's hand with bone-crushing intensity. (Its a good thing he has always been fit and works out at the gym, come rain or shine; a lesser man would have howled and pulled away as the waves of pain crashed over me with alarming regularity.) It all felt so rushed, and uncomfortable that I felt like saying, "hang on, can we run over this bit again!!??" It left me ill-prepared to use the gas-and-air mask that a nurse told me to breathe with when the pain intensified. Consequently, I managed to deliver my precious first child whilst feeling as if I were being ripped from the inside out. I pushed and pushed and then some more until the searing pain gave way and I felt a warm, wet and soft form escape my body... I craned my neck to catcha glimpse of my child, (all I could see was black hair and a tiny, limp form, face down on the sheets between my knees. Worried and anxious when I did not hear her cries (as I had expected, thanks to the hundred-odd hindi films depicting the birth of a child) my feeling of dread was pushed to the back when the super-efficient midwife wrapped her up in a clean towel and proffered my husband a pair of scissors to cut the cord...With shaking hands, he did just as she instructed, and she lay my baby in my ams for a quick cuddle.... Meanwhile, Senior staff who entered the room (I had no idea who they were and scrambled to preserve the remnants of my dignity) A supportive midwife helped me sit up and I was relieved to see I was decent! The seniors consulted amongst themselves about her low APGAR score, and debated on the next course of action. All this took just a few minutes and soon after her birth, they had a little sterile trolley brought in and were ready to take S down to NIU to be monitored for a few hours.

In the moments following her birth, as the NICU staff whisked her away, my dear husband looked worried sick and torn in two as he brushed away tears with the back of his hand. A nurse plunged a needle into my thigh to give me some vitamin K and another prepared to 'stitch me up'.  Late that morning, after an hour of bed rest, and a wash (that made me feel like I was still alive, and after my husband,B, and his mum had gone home after seeing to it that both of us were okay and resting...B, owing to his immense dislike of hospitals and MiL because she was , understandably, exhausted after a day & night of no sleep on a weekday.) and being examined and monitored by the wonderful staff, I was wheeled down to see my brand-new baby daughter, who I had only just held in my arms briefly, until that point... She looked so tiny, so fragile and yet so much her own person!! Her spiky, jet-black hair stood out in all directions,  her eyes tightly shut, an unmistakable frown (her Dad's) imprinted her forehead as she lay on her tummy, under the warm light in an incubator. As she slept, I looked and looked at her, unable to fight the urge to hold her close, yet afraid to do so, as she clearly, needed the drip and the warmth. I debated with myself and continued to look at her until a kindly nurse asked me if I'd like to hold her!!?? So, as mother and daughter were finally re-united outside the womb, a new chapter of our lives began! A chapter that said, "Hello!!"

In all our interactions so far in her young life, I try and recollect that first meeting and that first touch... As she snuggled up to me at night and fell asleep... To this day, I smile when I feel her breathing becoming regular and her little hands clasping me in different places, I thank God for the gift of motherhood....