Que Sera Sera

Well I've turned 30 and you think I would know how to deal with 'worry' by now.

I was terrible at Math and worried incessantly about passing the subject in school. I would 'just pass' all the time and my parents would celebrate that like I had scored a 'centum' like a stereotypical person from my community would have. I was average in Physics and terrible in Chemistry and even worse in Computer Programs.
So, I passed high school learning to deal with 'worry'.
All of the above did not prevent my dad from 'insisting' that I study Engineering. Well, I may not have been a stereotypical person from my community but my dad was. Well, at least on the topic of education. So that was another worry-filled four years where I struggled through Maths, more Maths and more Maths. Have you see the syllabus for Electronics and Communications Engineering?
So I spent a lot of time in college, in 'worry'.
After I scraped through college, my dad benevolently declared that I could now choose to study whatever I want. I can still remember how he beamed when he said that. I think I was borderline clinically-depressed by then and educationally de-motivated  So, his benevolence had little effect on me. I had applied to every creative program I could think of but no graduate school wanted a creative person who had spent the last 'six'years studying Science.
Well, I eventually went on to study two Masters in Syracuse which became a town I still consider my second home. Well, that's a whole other story. The point is there was a lot of 'worry' involved.
Will I finally study something I love? How do I fit in being the only Indian in my class? Will I get an internship? Will I finish this paper on time? There was a lot of studying and a lot of worrying.
I think the point I'm trying to make is that my educational journey has been a long one, difficuilt, challenging, worrying.....
Yet, all of that seems trivial compared to the 'worry' I carry around me about Ri's schooling. I carry around a tight ball that lies between my chest and stomach and I think I'm going to call it 'School Worry 2013'.
Believe me, I am a reasonable individual. I can counsel you through anything using ample doses of reasoning, spirituality and good sense. Yet, I seem to lose rationale when it comes to my daughter. She's smart and I care about her education and I have faith that I will ensure that she copes academically. What I cannot predict or control is who her friends will be, her teachers, her peer group. What kind of families will her friends come from? Will they be snobs? Will they be classy? Will they this and will they that? Is there a fool-proof way to select a school that ensures that Ri meets the right mix of people. Well, rather, my estimation of the 'right' mix of people.
Schooling and school friends play a huge influence on who turn out to be in your life. And, I get to make this huge choice for my daughter. Will I make the right choice? Will she make the right friends? What if I put her in an environment she hates?
I must confess I have several OCD's and am a bit of a control freak ( I can almost see my husband smile as he reads this on his Blackberry). How do I chart a fool-proof educational course for my daughter?
Well, there is a little voice in my head, the gentle voice of reason that reminds me that I cannot decide what the 'right' mix of people are going to be for my daughter. Nothing is 'fool-proof' and I have to learn to make lemonade with the lemons her school throws me.
I might want Ri to be 'prom queen' but she may be happiest in the Chemistry lab. She may be the class tree-hugger, party-pooper or the shy one who is happiest in the background. Why? She may even be the quiet one or the sullen one that everyone is wary about. Inspite of my best efforts, she may be the 'snob' that convinces her Daddy to buy her Prada at 16 ( Believe me, he will if she asks) or the 'girl with the purple streaks'.
Who am I to predict or guess?
I am her mother. And, now I know what it is to worry like one.
Everything else in the past, somehow, seems easy now.

If you fall, I will catch you. I'll be waiting. Time after time.

Dear Ri,

Happy Valentines Day. I love you. More than you will ever know. More than you will ever understand. I love you in a 'worry- about-which-school-you-will-go-to-till-my-temples-hurt' kind of way and  'hearing-you-laugh-makes-my-heart-want-to-burst-with-joy' kind of way.

I am a huge believer of Brian Weiss. He talks about how we reincarnate over the years with old souls and new bodies. He talks about a 'family of souls' and how they find each other every lifetime. The souls stay together. Only the relationships change.
Most nights, when I watch you curled up next to me, sleeping, I have but one wish. I wish there was a way I could soul-tag you, my darling Ri.

How do I identify you time after time?

Love,

Mom

Blog Title: Time after time - Cyndi Lauper

Zen and Moms

Dear Ri,
Someday you'll be 30 and I'll be 58. Hopefully we'll drink a glass of bubbly together and we will be happy. More importantly, you will be happy. Maybe you'll have a husband and a child through which your father and I will desperately try to re-create your childhood.
Assuming you will be our only child, will we be one of those parents that your husband inherits along with you !!! Eeeks. I can imagine your husband rolling his eyes as you book 4 plane tickets to the Carribean and I pretend not to hear you whisper " But they have nobody else". Hopefully I would have written a book by then and dedicated to you and my paternal grand-father. Through my years of struggling through Engineering, he would constantly remind me that I had it in me to be a good journalist. I wish you had a chance to meet him. He died when he was 91, two years before you were born and I have tears in my eyes as I type this. Damm the prolactin!
As much as we all dread the big 30, it does come with its own benefits. One among them, is a little bit of Zen. The things that may have upset you in your late 20's do not seem to anymore. The need to snap back at an snappy spouse. The need to put a parent or an in-law under the microscope. The need to relate your happiness directly to others. You may want to do all of the above but sometimes you learn to let it go.
Instead you turn all Meredith Grey with your view on the really 'terrible' things. She talks about how you wish for all the things that you 'think' are terrible to come back when the really 'terrible' things happen.
So, I'm trying to live a little like that now. You are here. I am here. We are healthy. You are happy. (except for the whole weaning thing). Well, I'm all Meredith Grey kinda happy. Your dad is here. His Blackberry is here. His calls are here.

That's enough for now. I guess.

Love,
Mom

For what it's worth it was worth all the while

When I imagined the process of Ri getting weaned, I imagined RD and I taking a break away from her for maybe two or three nights while she learnt to cope with the loss of nursing. Everyone around me including my ped said she would forget by the time I returned.

So I would associate Langkawi and Bali every time I thought about weaning her. I imagined sitting by the pool, tears glistening behind my sunglasses.....

Well, here I am, in good old hometown. Its been three days since I've nursed her and I think the nursing phase of my life may be officially over. No Bali. No Langkawi. It just happened like that. A couple of days back, my sister who is here on a break from the United States kept encouraging me to stop whenever Ri demanded my milk. And, I did, just like that.

After all, this was a long time coming. I had wanted to feed her till she was two. And well, the birthday had come and gone. It was time to let go.

I did not wean her in the most organic way in the book. I told her a a creature called 'Magai' had taken away my milk and would get angry if she continued to feed. And, she believed me, almost sneeringly. Ri thinks monsters are funny people.

It's been three days and she's fine. We spend a lot of time hugging and kissing and cuddling. I hold her close to reassure her that I am still there. She still gets my warmth and gets to sleep at my chest. Just no milk.

I feel unexplainably low. A lot of thoughts plague my mind. I don't remember the last time I fed her. Should I have recorded it in some way? ( I know that sounds creepy but figuratively speaking). Should I have made an occasion out of it. Should I have held her close and sung her a song. Was I lying lazily on the bed reading a paperback romance as she fed or was I watching an episode of 'Parenthood'.
I don't remember.

I've never spoken openly about nursing her for two years. There were days when I enjoyed it. Days when I was tired of it. Days when I would have been tired without it. Days when I felt a bit ashamed about the fact that I was still feeding a toddler. Days when I attributed her 'genius' to my breast milk.
I nursed her through fevers and bed-falls, tantrums and tummy-aches, after ear-piercings and
head-shavings, through marathon road trips and aeroplane take-offs and landings. When she hated travel-food, I nursed her till reprieve. I must thank the breast-milk gods. If I could go back in time, I would do it all over again.

So why did I choose to feed her this long? A lot had to do with how easy it is to take care of a child who nurses apart from all the 'love' and 'security' stuff. I think most of it had to do with the fact that RD wants only one child and I felt that I wanted to continue this beautiful natural process as long as I could, for this might be my only sweet baby. Well, take a dad who wants one baby and a mom who really does not know what she wants but feels no internal or external pressure to have a second one as yet  = our happy family with our darling Ri.

I feel strangely low right now. A mommy-friend said it is like 'an end of an era' thing and it is natural to mourn. Maybe it's the dip in prolactin. Maybe it's acknowledging that our babies grow up. You never know how much something means to you and how much you take it for granted till you have to give it up.

So I am doing some self-torturing right now. You know, like when you break up with someone and lie in bed thinking of all the wonderful moments you spent with them. I remember the first moment Ri was handed to me and how she took to my breast. I remember falling in love with her, over and over again as she fed, me stroking her hair and feeling her soft skin. I remember millions of episodes of Desperate Housewives, Criminal Minds, Greys Anatomy, 90210 and Gossip Girl that I watched while I fed her. I was never nursery-rocking-chair feeding mom!

I have read a lot of articles on how you should nurse till mom and baby mutually agree to quit. For the last three days, Ri still asks for milk but I manage to distract her. I still feel like giving in sometimes and 'experiencing' it one last time. So, I don't know if both of us are ready yet. I don't know if I stopped nursing for her, for me, for those around me. I don't know if I stopped so that she could spend more time getting to know me, than focusing on feeding. I guess I'll never know.
So here's to a new chapter for Ri and me. Wish me luck.