UBC day 4- Of mother's and kids.

My second child was born prematurely. My water broke at 32 weeks and by the time we rushed to the hospital; I had flooded the house and the car. And later the doctor’s examining table. Within half an hour my tummy looked flat! I cannot even begin to explain how sacred I was. I remember myself praying all along that the little one was safe. The doctor told us how the baby’s lungs wouldn't be properly developed at 32 weeks but there was nothing we could do but opt for the little one to be delivered.

that's him

The baby was delivered safely, but he developed bronco pneumonia soon after. I had just been able to have one look at the baby’s face; I had not even held him close, when they shifted him to the NICU. A day later I was allowed to walk to the NICU and see my little one. There he was….with his little feet connected to some machine and a drip set running out his tiny hand, an oxygen mask on his nose. The little chap was obviously irritated and kept shuffling. Every time he moved, the drip set would slide off and the nurse would search for a new place to prick on the tiny hand. It pained to see him go through all this. They finally bound his hands and legs with tape and secured it to his bed. That way he couldn't move at all.

I didn't have to stay in the hospital for long and after 10 days, I was asked to come to the NICU every 3 hours to feed the child. We had to wait for our turn outside the NICU and the nurses would let in mothers in batches of three or four. Every time I saw him through the glass wall of the NICU bed, he would become restless and wait for me to pick him up. It was daunting to pick him up, the drip and wires made it so difficult. I didn't want to accidentally disturb something and end up hurting the baby.

Every day, there would be new admissions and discharges, and we prayed that we could take our little one home soon. One day as we waited outside the NICU for my turn, the nurse brought out a little bundle and held it while the child’s parents signed some papers for discharge. I couldn't help but observe how milky white the child’s face looked. I thought maybe it had taken after its mother who looked quite fair too. And then as the mother took the child into her arms, she began to cry. It took me a while to realize that her child wasn't moving. And then the doctors came out, patting her shoulder, while her husband held her, trying not to cry. I couldn't even begin to fathom what grief the mother might being going through, holding her dead child in her arms.

I shook uncontrollable as my husband tried to steady me. The fear for my own child’s well being had suddenly multiplied manifold. When I was finally called in, and held my little one in my arms, I whispered a prayer in to his ears and told him how much I loved him. I held him close and the nurse had to snatch him away from me after I refused to hand back my child to her. I didn't want to leave him in the hospital any more. After what seemed like eternity, he was finally well enough to be sent home with us.

that's my rockstar!

By God’s grace he is doing well now. He is 3 years old now, but even after all these years I am unable to get the picture of the baby and its mother out of my mind. At the same time, I am happy God gave me enough strength to survive those stress filled moments of my life.

UBC day 3 - Yap...Yap...Yapp....!!

There are people who talk and then, there are people who TALK. 

I obviously belong to the second category! It does not matter whether you are a known person or a stranger, whether you are an introvert or an extrovert, or whether you even want to talk in the first place! Nothing can stop me from from chewing your brains off with my incessant chatter! Sometimes I feel, the term, 'nineteen to a dozen' was coined just for me!

No new place is new enough for me to keep my mouth shut. And no person is new enough for me not to begin talking to them. I can be at ease anywhere, with anyone. My mom says, I have the ability to make walls talk, if there's no living soul around! I often wondered if being this chatty was a disorder. I wondered why I have this urge to keep conversing?  For quite sometime I thought it was normal to be able to converse. But many stiff upper lips and polite smiles later I realised, that it wasn't!

I'm definitely not boring and don't talk nonsensical or hurtful things, but I always manage to find something in common and starting a conversation is never a difficult job for me. There are friends who've told me they are usually introverts and are amazed at how they could converse so much whilst with me. There are friends who wait for me to turn up at parties. It great to hear these things, but at the same time, I also wish I'd learn to tone down a little bit.

Hubby dearest once secretly recorded my conversation with our friends and later played it back to me. I was horrified, to say the least! Though it was an engaging conversation, I was yapping away like there'd be no tomorrow! I am sometimes amazed at the sheer amount of things I speak!

Blogging has definitely helped me channel all that I want to say. I wouldn't say I talk less now, but yes, it is way lesser than it used to be! 

UBC day 2 - Flushed pink!

I heard this expression once, “I’m not who I think I am. Nor am I who you think I am. But I am who I think you think I am.” 

I had to read it repeatedly to even understand what it meant! The meaning became clear to me but not until I suffered this expression myself!

I said something incredibly stupid to someone, stupid enough to make me want to cringe at the very thought of it! And if I could somehow have the proverbial “chullu bhar pani” (a handful of water) I would have gladly drowned in it! The more I thought about it, the more my face turned a nasty shade of pink! I apologized repeatedly to that person, as if doing so would rid me of my embarrassment. And the apology addict that I am, I kept apologizing at every given opportunity! “Just one more apology and I’ll be ok” I would think. But I didn’t feel good at all. Far from that, I felt worse!

Theoretically, if I could stop myself from revisiting my past, and try and stay in the present moment, I would probably not feel embarrassed, because what I said belonged to my past. It belonged to a different time and place. Practically though, it was impossible to disassociate oneself like that!

And apologizing kept taking me back to my past. That was a vicious cycle I was getting myself into!

As I tried to rid myself of these feelings, I realized that most of the times, we base our identity on what we think, other people think about us. We assume that people are reacting to our embarrassing act in a way that they may or may not be. And so we base our reaction to our perception of what we guess their reaction may be. That is a lot of needless guesswork!!

Embarrassment belongs to the disorder known as perfectionism. Think about it. You are embarrassed because you didn’t live up to your standards. That tiny little gap between your expectations of yourself and your performance caused that embarrassment. The fear of being perceived in a way that is less endearing than we would like it to be.

And that’s when I realized I need to learn to laugh it off and allow myself some tilting. By the way, having an ant like memory, as in my case, also helps!!  

No one’s perfect anyway! 

The Ultimate blog Challenge- day 1.....How it all started...

Shilpa has always been an inspiration to me. I simply adore her ability to push herself and keep writing. She's taken up one challenge after the other and I have often marveled how she comes up with such creatively crafted post every single day!! And so when I read about her taking up this "Ultimate blog challenge" I found myself wondering if I should do so too! 

Self effacing doubts had all but clammed up my mind...Will I be able to write every single day? What will I blog about? But then it also seemed like loads of fun, and that's what got me started.

The Ultimate Blog Challenge is a virtual event for bloggers held every quarter – January, April, July and October.  The goal is to write and share a new blog post every day during the challenge month.

It’s hosted by Michele Scism & Michelle Shaeffer, two entrepreneurs and bloggers who several years ago discovered the amazing power of blog challenges and decided to create the UBC to get more bloggers connected and motivated to succeed!

In case you would like to join us, all you have to do is…

• Join the challenge here
• Register as a Member here
• Select your category and get Listed on the UBC Blog Directory, here
• Join the Facebook & Twitter communities
• Get great blogging tips and tactics : Yes, you will get blogging ideas everyday in your mail!

It's Day 1 of the challenge. The first thought that came to me was the first day of starting my blog. 

 I had been writing since I was in school and all those little diaries and notebooks have moved with me where I went. We were inseparable. There were like treasure troves that contained poems, stories and little snippets of my life. How could I ever leave that "little me" behind? When a friend suggested that I could put all that in my own blog, it sounded like a great idea! And that's how this blog was born. 

I wrote random stuff, and could not really call myself a niche writer. So when it came to naming the blog, I decided on naming it  "The Little Princess". That's what dad calls me..... his little princess and being daddy's little girl it sounded perfect to me. That my stories are more female oriented happens to be a coincidence!! And yes, that they sound like a fairy tale, is even more!! 

Pitter Patter raindrops....

 

(image courtesy: Google)

There’s something so romantic about the rains!

The first drops of rain on the parched earth…just like a long lost lover gently kissing the woman of his dreams who has long been waiting for him. And when he comes she breaks into raptures. The buds blossom and the peacocks dance, telling him how much she’s waited for that moment of bliss. An all encompassing aroma lifts them to another world, and together, they sway….. to the song of love.

As I look out of my window and see the first dark cloud, it fills me with delight. The scorching summers have drained me of life. The sight of the rain cloud makes me run out into the open. I do not want to miss that first drop of rain, do I? I eagerly look up at the sky and wait with bated breaths. The moment of waiting is finally over when a tiny drop lands on my nose. Ah! He’s here, I tell myself, and wait with my arms spread wide and a smile wider than that! And then the magic happens! He pours down with all his might and I soak in his love. I breathe in the aroma that keeps filling into every cell of my body till it reaches my soul and tears flow down my cheeks. That is the kind of spell that the rains cast over me, holding me in its captive and I stay on like a happy prisoner…

I wonder if it is sheer coincidence that I was born during the monsoon, August, to be precise. Is that why monsoon is so dear to me? Could be! And the rain god makes sure to pour down with his blessings on each one of my birthdays, making it just that little extra special!

I had just finished my exams in May and no prizes for guessing when I landed my first job! In fact, I remember coming back home drenched after my first interview! It felt like the rain was congratulating me on my achievement! The rains have always been a harbinger of good tidings for me.

It was during one such lovely monsoon that I first met the man of my dreams. We got married four monsoons later! Need I mention when we got married? During the monsoon, of course, in September! Nothing could be more romantic! Our best moments have been those of going on long rides in the rain, Kishore da crooning in the background, and stopping at “tapris” or roadside tea stalls for that hot bite of the samosa and a hotter cup of ginger tea.

My best childhood memories are those of getting wet in the first rain of the season. Entire families would descend on the terrace of our apartment and the old and young alike would enjoy splashing with glee! It was considered healthy to get drenched in the first rain. One would supposedly be free of all ailments if the first drops of rain fell on you! Myth or not, we enjoyed every moment of it.

The beginning of the rains marked the re-opening of schools and meeting old friends. The excitement of wearing brand new starched uniforms and sparkling clean shoes is unparalleled. The rush of adrenalin as we entered our new classrooms and grouped together with friends is unforgettable. And it is these good old school days that I reminisce about even today when I think about the most carefree days of my life!

The rains also marked the beginning of the festival season. It starts with Ganesha Chaturti, when we would rally around for donations, help with installing the idol of Ganapati bappa, conduct the 10 day festivities and madly dance in the “Sandall” (for the uninitiated, that was our community dance without a fixed form or manner, you just needed to go all out and dance!). How can I forget  Raksha Bandhan, Krishna Janamashtami, Navratri and Deepawali that follow soon after? There would always be a little drizzle on the Lakshmi pujan day of Deepawali.  And it would feel like the monsoon was bidding us goodbye. Farewell until next year!

Sandwiched between two extreme seasons, the rains always provided a respite from the sweltering summers where the temperatures rose to a jaw dropping 48 degree Celsius and the winters where we almost froze at 5 degree Celsius! The temperatures were always right during the monsoon, neither too high nor too low.

My love with plants and gardening in general, borders on the crazy. If you are attentive enough you might even catch me talking to my little darlings! I find that these grow best during the rains. During monsoon my home garden is filled with pretty blossoms in every possible hue. And in turn it fills my heart with indescribable happiness.  

What better way to enjoy the rains than with mouth watering hot foods to tickle your palate? You can almost always smell that aroma of piping hot tikkis being made here and there, bubbling hot coffee elsewhere or tangy chats somewhere! And to sit by the window looking at the rains washing everything clean even as people walk by in colourful umbrellas and raincoats, while sinking your teeth into these delicacies is bliss!

I relate a lot to the rains because they are so much like me. A little moody, temperamental sometimes, romantic at times, lazy at other times, but never fail to bring a smile every single time!  

That’s what the monsoon means to me!!