To My Son, With Love.

Dear Minion

I’ve wanted to write to you ever since I first knew I was going to be a mother. I wanted to put down our hopes and our dreams, and also share our life with you before we had you. Someday in  the future, I thought, when my baby’s all grown up, he/she would be able to know the stories from our very ordinary lives, even if I’ve forgotten them. Yet, I didn’t write. I could give excuses and you would understand, my all grown up future son. Yet, I don’t think I want to give any excuses. I wanted to write, not had to. I’ve seen too many parents fall into the trap of feeling guilty too often for things they are not required to do. So yes, I did want to write to you, when I first knew about you, when you were born, when you turned a month old, when you turned 6 months old, a year old, and most days in between. Yet I didn’t because of a number of reasons.

But I write today. And the most important thing I’ve to tell you is that I love you. I’ve loved you in a vague, bemused way since I first thought about having a child. I experienced the miracle of a life being created with you and every phase of that journey was awe inspiring even if it wasn’t personally the most comfortable of times.

I remember when I first glimpsed you. You were so pink (and so loud) 🙂 and I met you face to face a short while later and you seemed so small, so delicate. I had trouble believing you were all mine. Later your dad showed me your first ever pic and you look super angry at the world with a huge frown on your tiny face 🙂 ‘I was quite comfortable where I was!’ I can imagine you complaining 🙂 I’ve loved you then, with me only being able to sleep in snatches coz you were asleep beside me in the crook of my arms and I was scared I’d roll over in sleep and crush you 🙂

I could write pages and pages here recounting infinite moments from your first years, and I hope I remember them all when you ask me for your stories. I’d tell you about how you’ve always slept too less for your age and how the first six to eight hours after your birth, you were the only one awake in the room, quietly taking in this strange new world you found yourself in. I’d tell you how you’d cover your eyes with your palms and nap. I’d tell you how you looked like a frog when my mum would give you a massage. About how you’d cry as you were bathed in a big paraat ( a flat bottomed vessel used for kneading dough in India) while I avidly watched the process trying to learn the steps…

I’d tell you that you had tiny arms and your tiny hands barely reached your ears at full extension. I’d tell you of the long serious discussions your dad and I had as regards choosing your name. I really believe that names have some effect on the child’s personality. We always wanted you to be happy in life, and so named you our everlasting joy.

But most of all, I’d tell you we loved you. Even though you ruined your nani’s sleep and disrupted your mama’s studies, even though I rarely got sleep and ached everywhere, even though your dad had to spend hours in the traffic so that he could visit us every few days, we loved you sooo much. We still do.

I will write frequently now that I’ve made a beginning. Ever since losing my dad, I’ve wished I had more letters he wrote for me or about me. Though I hope to have long years yet ahead of me to spend with you and your dad, I wish to write to you regardless 🙂

Love you loads.

Mum