In a Foo Fighters sort of way. You are our Miracle, lovely.
I have been addicted to this song since the first time I heard it. I’ve been waiting for a moment to match the music, when usually it’s the other way around. This song will play in my head every time I see you, and there’s never I time where it will cease to be true.
Today my love for you is miraculous.
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There you are. Sleeping. With your hand up. That’s what everyone who looks at this picture is thinking. “She’s sleeping and she broke one hand out of her swaddle.”
I know better. I know you’re actually waving goodbye. Seeing my off on my first day of work since you joined us.
And everything else sucks. I have never wanted to leave a place less than I wanted to leave home. I have never wanted to return to a place more than I wanted to return home. And I’ve never cared so little about what anyone else needs, wants, thinks, feels, or thinks they’re entitled to along the way.
Everything until I get home is going to be mired in suck. TMLFYI mired in suck. I said it. And I don’t care if it sounds like I have a terrible attitude about it. Anyone who’s met you would feel the same way.
Miss you, munchkin.
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(Note: This covers January 14th, our first night home from the hospital. In some ways, my least favorite day. Ever.)
D*mn. You’ve got some pipes. And it’s our fault you had to use them as loudly, often, and consistently as you did. We simply didn’t know any better.
We tried changing you. We tried feeding you. We tried burping you. We tried swaddling you. We tried everything parents of two days could try. And nothing worked. Your screaming got louder. On and off. You were exhausted. And every time you wailed our hearts shattered into a million more pieces. There is no sound like your cries. Nothing could have prepared us for it. And nothing will ever make me forget it. Consider me well trained to avoid your tears ever again.
It was this very night I realized that loving you to the end of the world, to the end of time, will sometimes not be enough. I also realized that feeling the kind of love we feel for you can be crippling and debilitating. I have never felt so hopeless. I have actually never been so worthless. Your Ba-ji, your Naniji, your Dadaji, your mom — they were all extraordinary in action. Your Ba-ji and Naniji are the only reason we made it through the night. I feel like they are the only reason you made it through the night. An interesting study in contrasts. Where mine was love inaction, there’s was love in action. Troubleshooting. Collaborating. Trialing, erroring, and trialing again. From 10pm to 8am the next morning they operated at a furious pace. Forcing me to rest. Standing beside your mom and magnifying her existing strength. Holding you in their hands every step of the way (even if they weren’t actually holding you in their hands at certain points in time.)
I witnessed something powerful and amazing that night, in the shadow of my own limitations as a father. My angel has angels. Specifically, two guardian angels in your Ba-ji and Naniji, and you couldn’t be more blessed. Because sometimes the love of your parents may not be enough. And in those times, you’re blessed to know that you have a love that’s even more unique and tireless — the love of your grandparents.
Yes, lovely. On this day, my love for you was simply not enough. Instead, I learned by watching your grandparents display one of the greatest performances of my lifetime, leaving me humbled and inspired to pursue my apprenticeship in parenthood under them.
(Knowing full well that if I screw up in the slightest I’ll have them to answer to.)
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(Note: The gist of this post was notated on my phone on January 12th, but I wasn’t able to actually put some words to it until January 27th. Excuse the delay. It also ended up lacking the powerful feeling and sentiments that I had welled up inside of me the moment Anaiya was born. There was no way to recapture the power of that moment in words, and frankly, not enough time to do it justice. So I gave myself one shot to stream of consciousness my way through it, and move on so I can start writing about my daughter in the moment.)
A daughter.
It’s amazing how many people told us we were having a boy. I’m not sure if it reflects gender bias or a lack of predictive proficiency. I’m not sure if it’s cultural. I’m not sure if it’s proof that people sometimes just need something to say. But boy (see what I did there) were they wrong.
A daughter.
We couldn’t be happier. And we couldn’t be less important. 🙂
Your mom went to hell and back for sixty-two hours. She then had about four hours of relaxation time — medically induced. But after that everything is a blur for me. I know the world started making room for you at about 1:33 on Sunday January 12th, and I know that at 2:04, you forced yourself into this world and went straight to your mom’s chest for skin-to-skin time. What was amazing though is that as much as mom wanted to cuddle and bond with you, you wanted to take the world in. You were moving your head from side-to-side. You didn’t want to miss a thing. Your timing and priorities couldn’t have been more appropriate.
It started with your Naniji. Did you know she was in the delivery room when you first met the world? She got to hold your Mommy’s hand and be there for her, so your Mommy could be focused on you. Kind of neat how that worked out, huh? She even got to feed your Mommy a popsicle (grape, believe it or not, but sugar-free of course because of that stupid @#$&*! gestational diabetes.) Just like your Naniji knows exactly how to be there, she also knows exactly how not to be there. As soon as she saw that you were ok and Mom was ok, she vanished. And we were none the wiser. You’ll notice that about her.
After we got you cleaned-up, Ba-ji and Dadaji  came to meet you. Tears. That pretty much explains it. Your Ba-ji stepped right in to hold you. You’re in for it with her. Every second since the moment she first met you she has been unable to see anything else. Just your face. Your Dadaji is less hands on and more hovering. He wants to make sure you’re ok EVERY SINGLE MOMENT. So he’ll walk past you, walk over to you, and walk near you. Sometimes holding you, but mostly, making sure everyone else is taking care of you.
Then Naniji and Nanaji made their way in to meet you, met with a similar response. Could anyone be happier? I already told you about your Naniji. But your Nanaji, now there’s a character. The rest of us are so sensitive to everything you do. Nanaji already has you talking and socializing. That’s what he does. That’s why everyone likes to talk to him.
Tita Fai and Deepal Mama were next. Tita Fai, well, she’s basically a crier. So she’s going to hug you and love you, but don’t be surprised if she has tears in her eyes every time she sees you pretty much for the rest of your life. You’ll get used to it. Carry Kleenex. Deepal Mama is your protector. You get many “Mamas” but you get one true “Mama.” He’s going to spoil you rotten at everyone else’s expense (actually … technically at his $expense$, and we’re totally fine with that.)
The fun don’t stop and won’t stop there. You met the first of your (many) Dada Mama’s, Chetan Dada Mama came in to see you. You’ll get used to his jokes (maybe) but he’s going to end up being one of your favorite people. He does that to everyone, kids, adults, random strangers at restaurants.
You had the most profound affect on everyone around you. With one glance, everyone’s life had changed for the better the moment you were born. But none moreso than your mom and I. We went from being children, to being parents. And we went from living our lives for us, to living our lives for you.
One day, this will sink in for you. On Sunday, January 12th, we went from being in the foreground of our own lives, to being the backdrop for everything you are and will become. Your mom and I embrace that. We feel lucky and inspired. Making sure everyone can bask in the sunbeams shooting out of your face, falling in love with all of you that is so lovely.
Today, my sunshine, my love for you is fully and completely in the background. We wouldn’t have it any other way.
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(Note: I took notes on my feelings starting from the moment my wife went into labor. But given the realities of parenthood, I obviously waited until I had a semblance of sanity to push through my thoughts and publish them.)
Baby-to-be. TMLFYI (Today My Love for you Is)…best delivered indirectly. Since Thursday evening at 7pm ET your mom has been in labor. What does that mean? It means cramps at such an incredible frequency, consistency, and duration, that there’s nothing a partner like me can do but feel hopeless and inspired. You see, your mom is something special. There are horror stories out there for how women react when they get into this situation.
What I know, is that she experienced all of the pain I was told to expect. Debilitating pain. She couldn’t eat. She couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t sit. She couldn’t stand. Even the things she does involuntarily — like breathe — she had to be deliberate about. Everything we did (conversations, watching tv, going up stairs, walking to the car) had a commercial break (somewhere in 4-20 minute intervals.) Except instead of commercials about wireless provider dominance, your mom experienced pain that was borderline incomparable.
She did this from 7pm ET on Thursday January 9th, to 9:45am on Sunday January 12th. 62 hours. Sixty-two hours.
And not once did she lose her poise. She cradled you in her arms through her belly to make sure you were ok each and every time. It was beautiful. She delayed all pain saving measures until medically necessary. And she looked more stunning and beautiful than she did the day I met her, the day I proposed to her (though honestly, she had kind of let herself go the night I proposed — that’s a hysterical and different story), and the day we got married.
So Sunshine, today my love for you is best delivered indirectly… because I’m channeling all of my energy to your mom, who’s doing such a ridiculously good job loving you like nobody else can.
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Suneet Bhatt 