Actually, I can......

I first saw those words written by Ramya, my daughter. And I asked her what she meant by that. And she said - do you know how frustrating it is when people underestimate me or think I can do less than they can? Simply because I don't 'see' the world as they do. So it's to show them that - actually, I can do whatever I want. 

It was the first time that I heard such a long explanation from my usually calm and smiling younger daughter. I had to ask her, 'do I also do that'? 

She hesitated just for a few seconds and replied, 'yes Amma. You do sometimes......' She must have noticed the horror in my face because she corrected herself immediately. So sorry, Amma. I didn't mean it like that she said as her face hung. I reassured that she had nothing to be sorry about while I should the one to apologize for my assumptions and I was transported to a time when I assumed she was totally well and treated her just the same way as any child. Then she became ill. Again my assumptions about how to treat her changed. Now she is nearing adulthood and again how my assumptions maybe stifling her, trying to control her unpredictable future. 

Ramya asked about how it was when  she first became ill. Those days are like a bad dream and days and nights I would rather not remember. Yet, I cannot forget them. My beautiful, laughing, smiling child was transformed. She cried in pain. Became fuzzy and difficult. She refused to eat and drink. Then the worry set in when her body became stiff and she was unable to bend her legs or her arms, she could no longer walk. She said her body was in pain and she felt her body was on fire. 

I remember the frantic search for the best pediatrician in town. Blood tests. Grandparents (my parents) totally devastated by seeing their granddaughter go through so much pain.  The first doctor said - childhood tantrums. The next was an ayurvedic doctor, the next was a homeopathic doctor. None helped. There seemed to be no cure - no help as we watched her breathing becoming more laborious. My father finally saw a bill board - let us go in here he said. Its a pediatrics clinic. As little Ramya lay in my sisters arms - stiff  and barely breathing, in the waiting room, he doctor came out. Within minutes he shouted and said - ICU now!!! He brought her back to life. Brought her back to me and I will be eternally grateful to him. 

Dr Radha Krishna, he said to me she will be awake and normal within 6 hours. Even my gradfather, who had undiagnosed cancer at the time, slept on the floor that night - for the health of his great grand child. I just sat at her bedside and exactly as told by that God sent doctor, Ramya woke up and showed me - a drawing. Look, amma. I am drawing! Please don't worry any more, she said. And I remember how my parents, my grandparents, everyone heard her and hugged her and kissed her and left saying she needed rest. I myself sent a silent plea to God. This is the second time, you have tried to take her away from me I cried in my heart. I promise to guard her with my life. I promised all the Gods. Everyone of them I could think. 

Within the next few weeks we made all the preparations to return home with intravenous calcium and we made it home in one piece before I collapsed. 

The real story began then. The diagnosis. The uncertainty. The doubts. The questions. Why? Why? Why? Why? There were no answers. I stopped sleeping in our bed and moved to Ramya's room. I woke up every hour to check her breathing, convinced that God has decided He needed my good, beautiful child with him. 

Right now, to continue will take much more will power from me than I feel I have.  

I also have to mention my older daughter. She is an incredible young lady. Within days her life too changed and yet she remained strong, supportive and at a time when most teens would have acted impossible due to the lack of attention she stood my us, beautiful and stoically. Today she is a doctor. Today is simply a support from afar and the moment she arrives sunshine arrives with her. She is Ramya's inspiration. 

You can read Ramya's version of the initial diagnosis......

Let me link to my daughters blog. Because that is who she is today. And I am proud of her. She is an incredible child. 

Www.actually-ican.blogspot.com.

Love and peace.... More to follow. 

Prasantha. 

What do we teach our children?

I've been thinking a lot about boys and girls. Once, when I saw a mother hitting her son and I tried to stop her, the mother did not like me interfering. She turned around and said, "You don't know how to raise boys......... They need harsher treatment or they don't learn!"

And I started thinking, so we teach our sons that hitting is alright, violence is acceptable. An eye for an eye. And I see all around me, parents who justify their sons bad behavior or lack of consideration by saying - boys will be boys. What does that actually mean? Are boys born to be naughty? Or pull and push and that they come first- always? Are they born with those attitudes?

 It seems to me that it is we, the mothers who make that distinction. Why do we tell our boys that its alright to be aggressive, a go-getter. Its alright to be ambitious, put your job before your wife and family, its alright to go out and hangout with your buddies after work, its alright to take out your frustrations of work on your wife. After all, she's been in house all day, doing nothing - just raising the children, cleaning, cooking, all natural abilities that every woman is born with. She doesn't HAVE to work......... Let's not forget that we also teach our boys that they are privileged. It is shocking to learn that it is the so-called educated urban Indians who have increased abortions based on gender. What is all that education for, if it cannot translate into better understanding and a change in attitudes towards our girls?

And we tell our girls to be patient, wait their turn, smile even if it hurts and don't talk too much or laugh loudly. The rules on social behavior are given to our daughters even before they even have a chance to find their voices. We are even told how we should think - if you don't want to get married and serve your family, then something is wrong with you. If you cannot take care of your younger siblings, its a failing. If you wear a shorter dress, then you are shameless. If you voice your opinion, you don't know how to behave.

So in my opinion, its time to teach our sons that it makes a better world when you see women as humans like themselves. It makes for a better world when you treat another human being the way you want to be treated, irrespective of whether your are inside the home or outside....During war times and peaceful times.

Yet, as I am writing this, I seem to have more questions, and fewer answers.............

When will we change? When will we learn that all of us - man or woman, we all born to a WOMAN? Without the female form, would all of our beautiful Earth's creatures exist?

Love and Peace

Prasantha

A Mothers letter to her daughter...........

My dearest daughter,

Time flies, really really fast. I still remember when you were born. I cried and everyone tried to reassure me that those tears were tears of joy. I suppose they were right, but I still can recall how frightened I was. As long as you were a part of me, I could protect you as I protected myself, but the moment you left my body, I realized I no longer had any control over your destiny - for good or bad. You are now an Individual......

That realization hit me hard. But not as hard as the sudden love and possessiveness I felt towards you as I held you in my arms. I always was afraid of commitment, but I realized now, as you lay peacefully unaware of my inner turmoil, that NOW I was committed, whether I liked it or not. NOW I was attached, whether I liked it or not. I was responsible for bringing you into this world, I held in my hands the power to destroy you   or make you a responsible citizen of this world, a good person.... I have tried to be humble in this Herculean task of being your mother. I don't think I have always been successful and only time will tell if I have done a good job or not.

Raising you was a pleasure; every time you ripped up one of my favorite books, I proudly showed it to  friends telling them how strong you were. Every time you broke a glass, my Waterford crystal which was a rare piece of glass, I was more concerned that you did not get hurt. Every little thing you did made me hug you, praise you, kiss you until you pushed me away..... until you became 6 years old and school started.

Then I realized that my expectations raised, along with your age. Sit properly, eat properly, don't rip your books, don't make a fuss, don't destroy the things around you, be careful.... hurry, hurry, hurry - we don't have time to play. Toys were replaced by timetables, random activities were replaced by clubs and organised sports, stick figure drawings were thrown out and you were asked to draw better. When did it all happen? Why didn't you stop me? I love you, my dearest, for absorbing all that and taking my worries for what they were - small and soon to be forgotten incidents, in the big picture.

Today, you are a grown woman, with experiences of your own. Now you see that I am not perfect but I gave you my best, yet you still love me. You stand a head taller and look down on me, yet in your eyes - I still see the awe you have for me, your mother. I am so happy to see you have grown into a brave young person, who stands up for her beliefs, who follows her heart even if it may not be what I think is best for you. People are drawn to you and your smile. Your inner beauty shines, you are stronger than I ever imagined you would be..... And I remember your words, when I said you were beautiful.

"Its alright to be beautiful, mom, but I think being smart is more important, being good to others and kind is more important". You were 5 years old. I was proud of you then, I am more proud of you now.

Maybe I didn't do such a bad job after all, considering how frightened I was..........

With all my love......
Your mom

With love and peace

Prasantha