Dear second child

My dear second child, you will hear us tell people we wanted you as company and companion for our first. We didn’t want our first to be alone. The truth is, our family didn’t feel complete without you. We wanted you and worked so hard to have you because we knew we aren’t whole without you.

You would have thought that your entry into the world might be different. No covid restrictions after all. You and your mom were destined to be alone. Perhaps it is the most special time we will ever get to spend. You came into our lives and I became a mom of two. Perhaps we needed that alone time to discover ourselves, together.

You will probably never know the love and delight us and our friends and family feel at your arrival. Your presence may always seem overshadowed by the needs of your older sibling. You may never know the toys that were meant for you as your older brother has claimed them to be his. You may never know what it’s like to have over worried parents fuss over every turn/ sound you make.

My dear second child, remember there would be no first without you.

I want to assure you, you were and are wanted. You are loved and coveted. You are cherished! You are the missing piece to our puzzle. You are the harmony our lives seek. It may all seem a bit bizarre to you, but eventually you will know that without you there is no us!

Adjustments!

I spent days bawling my eyes out before the birth of my second child. I’d tell people I miss my first already. How will I adjust? Will I find it in me to love the second, as my heart is so full with my first.

Well meaning folks and experienced moms would tell me your heart expands. It makes space for both.

I don’t know about that expansion. I do love both my children a lot. Very grateful for what we have been blessed with.

I’m not the one making those adjustments. I see my older child making all of them. Right from change in furniture setting, to the time availability of their parents. I see my child navigating the novelty with grace and resilience.

I’m still bawling my eyes out not because I miss my older child but because my older child suddenly has become the elder. I wasn’t prepared for this transition.

We have also gone from mama to mummy! 🥲

Welcome my darling!

We have done it! I have done it. What started off over 10 years ago as “let’s see what the doctors say” ended up with an arduous journey of infertility, fetal loss and two beautiful children!

Yes two, a boy and a girl! Complete/perfect family people have exclaimed. Congratulations have been flying. People have said all the right things. Officially on paper it’s amazing!

I’m thrilled. Please don’t get me wrong. I know what it’s taken out of me and my marriage to get this far. Not to mention bank balance but that’s for another day.

There is however so much wrong with our society that I don’t know how to unpack a lot of it.

For starters “Perfect families” don’t exist. If you had a “perfect family” I’d say you are missing out on the quintessential experience of dysfunctional relationships and working through complex emotions. It’s very character building and we have all been through that. As one should. It’s your family that gets you prepared for life and the world in general.

A Pinterest picture family on the wall doesn’t make things perfect. There isn’t a father and a mother a brother and a sister that define a perfect family. Sometimes there is a parent missing, same gender siblings, same gender parents. Many times children aren’t even biological, but they are yours. Sometimes that family isn’t even by ritual. One just builds their own. So what does a perfect family even mean? In today’s world are we still defining life by the archaic narratives sold to us?

I should take a moment to rejoice in the opportunity to be a girl mother however. Never having been very feminine/ girly I was thrilled I had a boy. After all I had a husband who could take care of things. But then the dread of raising a girl started to well up. What if we had a girl? Well what if? I have so many role models around me of amazing mothers/ strong women/ accomplished female artists/scientists you name- I believe I’ll be okay. I may not get the matching bows or the trendiest outfits for my daughter but I know how to show her to survive and thrive in this world on her own terms.

We will be okay darling girl! It’s a true honor and privilege to be called your mom! Welcome to the world little one!

God have mercy!

Really not one to depend on god. I belong to the category of “doers”. Not saying that I don’t believe in a higher power. I do. That power has gotten me through some very tough days. The fact that I am turning back to the supreme power, tells me and you that things are dire.

The last few weeks have been very rough. At first it was about the safety and health of the friends/work colleagues I know who have family and friends in Israel. It was an instantaneous gut punch and I had to reach out.

What followed after that has been just gut wrenching. I wont use the terms that the media is currently circulating. I don’t have enough knowledge or depth of understanding. Neither do I have the bandwidth to study it.

I am consuming a lot of what is being circulated and in every terrified/hurt/hungry/sad/dead child or parent I see, I see myself in them. I am distressed and sad and very insecure. How does one harbor so much hatred to do this to anyone.

If that is not bad enough, hatred is being stoked and the racsims, and phobias based on religion are on the rise. As a physician- I know we really aren’t any different. As an immigrant, I have experienced discrimination. As a DEI worker I realize the long history of racism and bigotry. But as a human the complete disregard for human life, the hatred, the bigotry still gets to me.

I have cried and felt so insecure. Today it is them, tomorrow it can be us. We have to be cognizant of the world around us. If we remain complicit in the atrocities of others, how are we sleeping well at night? We have to stand up against hate and racism.

It is easy to feel helpless, when the powers to be are unreachable. There are things we can do at local/regional/national level. What is most harrowing is how the right wing nationalist agenda is on the rise every where. From the US to India, from Europe to Asia. What is making this ideology so popular? Why are people buying into this narrative?

Anyway, today I pray that god will help us- and those children and parents that cry a thousand cries! My thoughts and prayers are with you all.

Hug them a little tighter

I ask my son to hug me. He isn’t really interested. He wants to tell me the route of the bus he took this morning. He has big stories to tell. I notice a slight hesitation in his words coming out. I wonder about a speech impediment.

My mind wanders. What a privilege to worry about the smallest things and know that help is available. He doesn’t want to eat the dinner I laid out. He wants to go out to ride his scooter. I show him how dark it is. I tell him if he can spot another child his age riding a scooter I will. He patiently waits at the window. In a few minutes he gives up. Comes to the dinner table.

As he devours his food, my mind wanders to war stricken lands. Not one, but in double digits. What kind of childhood do those children have? Are they allowed to have a tantrum? Are they given any freedom? Do they have a choice of what’s on their plate. My thoughts feel silly given that perhaps the only thing on that three and half year old child’s mind is survival and hoping their family survives.

I’m grateful for the meal my son is eating. He is warm, secure, loved. No bombing over our skies. I don’t mind his tantrums suddenly. I don’t really need him to behave. I need him to grow up, experience adulthood, feel love, learn to love his music, travel, cherish his childhood one day.

I yearn for that hug. Perhaps another day. As I get him ready for bed, we read some books and by the time we are done, he is lying beside me, head on my lap engrossed in the “Little blue truck”, completing the sentences for me.

I feel gratitude and I pray for his long life. I kiss him good night and remind myself, the next time I do get to hug him, I will hold him just a little tighter; perhaps just a little longer.

PS: Lest I forget my good fortune. I am distraught at the tragedy unfolding for the citizens of Israel and Gaza. I am sad for those children and their mothers. I hold them all in my heart and I mourn their losses with them.

You continue to inspire me…

I was already in medical school, when I was asked, what is the one thing you never want to do. My immediate response was, ” Let my father down”. The raised eyebrows and snickers didn’t escape my attention. These people didn’t know the sacrifices my father had made to get me into medical school and despite my failures the faith he had shown in my ability.

We all need that one champion who believes in us. My champion was my father. He always told me, it isnt the results that matter. It is the journey. As long as I didn’t give up and I had that fight in me, I would be okay. His faith me in me has guided my many decisions.

Even today, 12 years after his passing away, the thought of letting my father down, will pick me up from the trenches of my despair, motivate me to do what I have already decided is impossible. Every success and reward I get, I think of my father. I wish he would be here to see that his faith in me was not in vain.

I think of the strentgh it takes in a parent to have that conviction. I think of the faith one has to have in their own ability to be a parent. I wonder where that determination comes from. Having one champion is sometimes is all it takes to be successful.Hhow does one do that consistently for their children.

As I hope to grow my family, I miss my father immensely. I continue to battle the daily grind personally and professionaly. Yet I keep going, because somewhere I believe my father is watching my journey. If ever asked again, my answer will always be the same, I never want to let my father down!

Papa, you still continue to inspire me!

Breaking Stereotypes

When our child was born in March 2020, we were living through the worst week of the pandemic in the US. People were dying. The hospital systems were so overwhelmed that bodies were being stored in garbage bags, make shift hospital beds were being installed in Central Park and no one had any idea what they were dealing with or what the next steps needed to be. Everyone was scared as the governments were playing politics with human suffering and public health systems were crashing in the most established of countries.

Then there was us, after 12 years of being married I was alone in a hospital giving birth to our miracle. Happy we made it through our infertility and losses to finally become parents. Me unaware of my husband’s fear and he unaware of my loneliness but both happy that we have a child in our arms at the end of the our own personal ordeal.

There was no help we could avail of. There were travel bans/fears. Restuarants were closed. Building in NYC weren’t allowing non-essential personnel to come into the buildings, so there were no cleaning/cooking help allowed. We brought a baby into our bubble with no one but our pediatrician in our lives.

My husband and I took turns with sleep/feeding/cooking/cleaning and learning to be parents. Seeing our now 3 year old, we know we survived the worst time in the pandemic with the most beautiful experience of parenting.

We took on non-traditional roles. I went back to my work, my husband decided to continue his work form home, even though we both knew that it would make his career suffer. He wanted to support my career and not let the traditional “motherhood tax” impact my career growth trajectory. While I struggled with mom-guilt I leaned on my husband for everything. To raise our child, to be my support and keep us together. And he did. People often say that homes are built by women and there is a lot of truth to it, but my husband is the one who has kept me and our family together.

He is the default parent. He is the default partner. His contributions to all things domestic are so obvious that our mothers who have experienced and live with traditional patriarchy struggle with our family dynamic. So much so that they keep commenting on it, sometimes affecting our harmony.

However, I then see how much my 3 year old already contributes to being a helpful member of the family. Doing “chores” come naturally to them. They are loving, caring, kind, compassionate. While I’d like to take credit for some of the goodness in my child, I know that my child emulates the biggest influence in their life. Their father.

Being a present, kind, compassionate, true partner and #heforshe, takes concious effort. It takes practice and consistency. My child is seeing, experience that everyday of their life. They watch their parents being happy and in harmony and wont know what tranditional patriarchy looks like. While I sometimes wish I would not have to hear the taunts of our elders, I also know I could not have given a better gift to our child. We are breaking the stereotypes and we are hopeful, our child will learn to live on their own terms!

No one told us..

They say babies should come with manuals. I have agreed for most part. The range of normal in child rearing is rather infinite. For folks that follow logic and science the lack of binomials can be unnerving. I wish I had a go to.

We don’t. Nor can there be. Different people find different stages of a child’s life “difficult”.

The adjustment to the addition of a new variable in your equation takes a lot of work. Relationships change. Some for good. Some for bad. The place you hold in society changes. What can be done vs what cannot be done changes. Some people like to go with the flow and some change themselves for the sake of their child.

Along the way, one realizes there is no right way. Or wrong for that matter. Each family along with thier child is on a unique path of a parenting journey.

Social media and the excessive knowledge at hand is excessive. Not one post makes you think your child is normal. One is always on the edge wondering ones child is on the path to becoming a socio-path leaving many parents on the verge of constant paranoia and worse still mental break downs. From feeding specialists to behavioural gurus to motor skill specialists, one will find an over load of everyone teaching you how to parent.

Then you look at your child and wonder why they don’t fit any mould. You then stop to think, how would your parents handle this child if they were around. Now you will be accused to continuing the age old cycle. Some toxic, some perhaps not to toxic but no matter what you decide to take forward from what is the only reality you know is deemed wrong. Would it then be enough to ask oneself if you think you turned out alright? If yes, follow your parents, I say. I am no expert I must add.

I had no idea how much I would enjoy being a parent. My joy at your presence in my life was unfathomable. All along so far, I was told ” wait until *insert age here*, you will really struggle” . I have been waiting for those struggles. All I have felt is immense joy and gratitude that you chose us to be your parents.

Your learning and growth curves have been exponential. With each different and progressing stage you have amazed your parents at your resilience and determination. We enjoy your expanding vocabularly and how expertly you weave in newly learned words into your everyday conversation. We marvel at your audacity to exert your independence even though you continue to be fully dependent on th adults around you for survival. You are coming into your own person and we are loving to get to know you better. You are funny, determined, kind and considerate. You can be stubborn and get easily irritated when you don’t get your way. You are loved by your teachers and friends alike. Many parents that engage with you, tell us what a lovely person you are and how grateful they are that you are their child’s friend.

I celebrate your existence and continue to be grateful that you are part of our family. I often worry how will you be placed in the world. What values will you finally get from your parents? How will you contribute to society?

Why didn’t anyone tell us that parenting will be about a lot of joy with always living worried and in fear?

If I had to be honest…

Do we just tend to hang onto toxicity in our lives because it is familiar?

I used to enjoy an instagrammer- unapologetically Indian. Lots of home cooking, lovely sarees. Reminded me of home a lot and kept me close. They also have a side to them that I’d find jarring and abrasive. Sometimes contradictory as well. To each their own I’d say and continue consuming their content. I wasn’t enjoying it. I would dread posts which would be negative, based on poorly understood facts. It’s taken me a while but I finally unfollowed them. I’ll miss the food posts or posts on India but I won’t miss the negativity!

The complexity of emotions I feel right now make me question my priorities.

I’ve managed to negotiate a change in clinic location. That in itself is a huge accomplishment. I’m aware. I should be proud. On one hand I’m glad to leave the clinic that’s been toxic, unprofessional, unkind. On the other I am struggling as I know coming to this clinic gave me an edge above all else. When no one else wanted to come here I did. It made my efforts stand out. I won’t miss a soul if I had to be really honest. I won’t even miss most of my patients. Some I know won’t be taken care of as I did. That isn’t my responsibility to uphold and yet I feel a sense of worry for them all.

I need to let go and move on and be proud of my achievements.

Even if toxic something’s are hard to let go, if I had to be honest..

The disillusionment of Independence day!

July 4th has been a huge deal in the United States. It should be for all practical reasons. It is the day the “Americans” gained independence from the British rule. Much like in India. Except in India we did it through non-violence.

As one digs deeper into the history of the US, one can’t help but ask, whose independence was it really? The enslaved black people continued to be slaves. Till today there are repercussions of the constitution that gave the black man only 3/5th of a human status. Segregation, red lining, and Jim Crow laws continue to impact black communities throughout the US. The country that was built/recognized by immigrants has one of the most strict immigration laws. The attitudes towards the refugees and people of color is only worsening as the time passes. So who was really independent, and what are we really celebrating?

As an immigrant to this country, I always felt that the discrimination against me was justified. I was after all was taking away from the “local” individual. I have long moved away from that stance. Discrimination is never justifiable. Also I didn’t take away anything. I applied for positions just like anyone else and I was selected on my merit. I didn’t have an “quotas”, affirmative action or any policy protecting or providing my possibility of making it in this country. I did it on my own. It has taken me over a decade to come to terms with that.

What I have not come to terms with is, that despite holding an Indian passport, I have more privilege in this country than black, brown indigenous people of this land. I am safer in terms of police brutality, I am not discriminated against when buying a house and my child has the possibility of going to any college they wish or can afford. The color of their skin will not be held against them. Neither will their religion.

So I think about this Independence day that is being celebrated? Exactly what are we celebrating? Especially in a country where affirmative action has just been rolled back, women’s rights are dismal and there are barely any protections for the new mother or child.

At least in India maternity leave lasts 6 months, paid at that. Yes minorities are being attacked, freedom of press is non-existent, dissent is punishable by law and women and girls continue to be raped and killed with no consequence. Not much to celebrate from where I see things.

So while July 4th has passed and August 15th is just around the corner, I ask myself, what did we really get independent from?

Happy 4th y’all!