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...
