Arnav, it was June 2009, when I discovered your existence – a tiny, 0.5 mm life implanted in me. So tiny that the ultrasound technician first told me I was not pregnant – but I insisted, and I was correct! My first thought was to protect this little living speck with all I had. Ensure it got the right nutrition and best care and whatever it needed, to be born well and healthy 9 months down the line. I changed the branch I worked at to avoid the bumpy Bombay roads and treacherous auto rides. I ate healthy, pigged out on cheese sandwiches (guess why you love them so much!), worked from home the last couple of months, all to protect you and keep you safe.
And then you arrived. This tiny, pink, helpless being, completely dependent on me for its survival. Breastfeeding you was a profound experience – nourishing you, from my own flesh and blood. That bond, those eyes gazing into mine with absolute trust and satisfaction, tied us together in space and time in a way nothing else ever could.
You were so small. So small that I was afraid of crushing you as you slept next to me. I was terrified of touching the soft spot on your head – scared my fingers would poke through the delicate skin! I was scared of bathing you alone, afraid you may slip out of my soapy hands, and both Kapil and I bathed you together for the first couple of months. Leaving you alone, was out of question, fearful as I was of you hurting yourself.
And as you grew, my instinct to protect you only strengthened. I wanted to shield you from every injury, every bad experience, every unkind word on the playground or disappointment at school. For I could not see you hurt, in any way. You fell, I cried. You got an injection, and I could not bear to watch. You fell sick and my gut wrenched. You felt left out, and it took all my strength to not go and demand you were included. Your pain was magnified in my heart, perhaps much more than you actually felt physically.
But I can’t hold on to you forever. Life is not always kind. There will be days when the world feels heavy, when friends disappoint you, when you question your worth. There will be moments of failure, of loss, of self-doubt. But I know I have to let go. As much as I may want, I cannot lay out the path you will take, and neither will I be able to hold your hand through every turn of life.
I cannot protect you from every physical and emotional pain that life will inevitably bring. I can’t hug away your problems. I know I cannot shelter you from your failures, frustrations, heart breaks, betrayals, disappointments, challenges and struggles that are bound to cross your path. Much as I hate that, I cannot wish them away from your life, for I know these experiences will shape you, make you stronger, and help you find your way. I know that these struggles are part of life, part of the journey that will shape you into the person you are meant to be.
But I do hope, that like those fairies in fairy tales, I can swish my magic wand and teach you to protect yourself, to not erase the hardships but to grant you strength, resilience, and wisdom. To be strong enough to tackle all the curve balls that life will throw your way.
On your 15th birthday, I hope that you learn to fight your own battles, to carry your own burdens. And as much as I would want to intervene, to make everything easier for you, I know that strength is built through struggle, that resilience is born in the moments when you face life head-on.
But remember this—I will always be here. I promise to always be your home, no matter how far you go. I will always be there, with a hug and a hot cup of chocolate milk (or tea or coffee). I promise to listen, even when you don’t have the words to explain. I promise to believe in you, even when you doubt yourself. I promise to stand by you, even when the world feels unsteady. I promise that no matter how much you grow, no matter how old you get, you will always be my child, my baby.
I hope that every time you need a soundboard, or someone to listen, or someone to bolster your confidence or remind you of how special you are or someone to mend your heart, you know that you can come to me. To us, your parents, your papa and mumma.
My love will always be your shield, my arms your sanctuary. You may outgrow my protection, but you will never outgrow my love. And though I cannot protect you forever, I will love you for all eternity.
So go, my love. Chase your dreams. Face the world with courage. Live boldly, love fiercely, and never be afraid to stumble.
Happy 15th birthday, my baby!!
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This blog post is part of ‘Blogaberry Dazzle’
hosted by Cindy D’Silva and Noor Anand Chawla.
This post was created for the Blogaberry Creative February Challenge with theme word Hug
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Regards, Sakshi aka tripleamommy
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