What if...(newborn pictures, wishful thinking & a mother's memories)

(In Pic 1 & 2, Baby N is 10 days old. He was off the ventilator by this time but was in an oxygen tent because he still needed assistance with his breathing. Whenever I went down to be with him in the NICU, he was taken out of the tent, and I gave him whiffs of oxygen from a tube.)

Just yesterday, I was reading another blogger’s family update and looking at the happy pictures of his newborn. A fourth member, all tiny and wise, with almond eyes and tightly-curled fists. Dressed in a pastel-hued onesie, the newborn baby was at peace on the soft white sheets of his bed. Gauzy morning sunlight streamed through the window…just the right light conditions for a newborn photo shoot.

I looked at the photographs with part amazement and part wistfulness. I have a 13-month-old baby boy now, but I still don’t know what my own baby looked like when he was a day old, a few days old, a week old, a fortnight old.

(Pic 3. Baby N, 1 day old, on ventilator)

I don’t know how he would have looked without all those tubes and canulas snaking through him. I wouldn’t know how he would have looked without the pin pricks and splatters of dried blood on his translucent skin. I don’t know how he would look if he had been at peace, on the crisp sheets of a bed at home, in my arms, in a pastel-hued onesie.

And I’ll never ever know.

While I’m plenty grateful for having him with me today, for not having lost him to the dark shadow of death, I still wonder. The thought crosses my mind every time I see a newborn baby’s picture; every time I see a very new baby dressed in rompers and lolling around amidst a sea of crisp cotton sheets.

9 Must-reads for Moms

As I was flipping through photographs from the year past, I couldn’t help but think of those intense first few months. A phase steeped in exhaustion and uncertainty, diaper duty and nights spent decoding a newborn’s piercing cries.

Eight hours of sleep seemed like a luxury I couldn’t afford for the next 20 years.  And eating an unhurried meal at home, watching a movie in a theater or shopping in my favorite store – simple pleasures that I took for granted earlier, were elements that I could say goodbye to forever. Or so it seemed, at that time, when New Motherhood seemed like a job description from Mars.

6 Style Blogs I love + my style journey

I’ve been experimenting with my personal style. Not with fashion, and what’s hot and what’s not. But with that thing that defines a person’s look. That creative combination of clothes and accessories and attitude that tells a story of its own.

For a very long time, I was kind-of clueless and disinterested in ‘style’ (and I still am about anything related to fashion). Give me a pair of old jeans and a comfortable t-shirt and sneakers and I’m done for the day. I couldn’t afford a whole lot of clothes, and even when I could, I just wore what was practical and what was available.

My Attitude to Gratitude: This is what it looks like for me…

From my window, gratitude looks like a piece of bright blue sky, a day full of golden sunshine and a picnic lunch, a plate of buttered toast with real fruit preserve. An hour’s worth of exercise with blood rushing through my veins and oxygen through my lungs, a good book savored sans interruptions, half-a-cup of delicious coffee – strong with just a hint of sugar. My husband coming home after a day of flying.

Gratitude for me is about a day full of peace and joy. A holiday spent with my husband and son, a walk with my dog, a bowl of soup relished in a pool of lamp light. Gratitude is cooking a nourishing meal for my family, watching a movie at home, a snuggle and a cuddle, kind words and laughter.