Today you are
O-N-E.
I could lie
and say it was all unicorns and rainbows. But I won't. It was mighty hard, to step on a
hamster wheel, lose my sense of self and be your mother, non-stop and every day.
But today is
not about me. It's about you.
These past 12
months I have watched you all day. And yet I am doubtful if the 4 hours of
fragmented sleep I manage to get every night would destroy my cognitive skills bad
enough to forget you. Probably it would. So before it happens, I will try. Try to describe you, as you are, this very day. Although
I am sure it is impossible to capture your wild effervescence in a neat little
bottle, but if there is one thing I could give you on your birthday is the
ability to see yourself from my eyes.
You are
officially a toddler now. But I am not done with you being my baby yet. I still can't let go of your softness, your smell and the warmth of your seldom hugs. Yes, I know you hate cuddling, but please let me as long as I can . I think I need it more.
You are small
and petite. Numbers on the scale do not concern me as much as they did once. It
took some time. But I have come to realize that being in the 100th
percentile isn't better than being in
the 1st percentile , both are just different.
Your wild
head of hair that always amused strangers has now gone wilder. And any efforts to tame them
short by your mother have only proven disastrous.
You babbled Ba-ba, Da-da, Ta-ta, Na-na so far- in
the same order. No Ma-Ma as yet. But I will be here waiting, just in case.
You have a
special ear piercing glee which is only reserved for your dad's homecoming.
What can I say? Do you know that feeling where you’re unhappy and
overwhelmingly happy at the same time? That's how I feel about it.
You don't sit
yet. My guess why? Sitting probably for you means slowing down and you harbor too much impatience for things slow. But
who can stop you when you define your own trajectory? So you crawl, exploring
endlessly and taking everything apart.
You hardly
play with toys. Too mainstream. They lay abandoned as you indulge yourself with
onion peels. Or empty water bottles. Or the dustbin. You love the dustbin. And are in awe of the refrigerator.
You know no
fear. Open-bang-shut-without a blink is how you have worked out your way
through the doors. And you roll off the bed as if you fly. I wish I was half as
aggressively self-assured as you are.
You love
music-SO MUCH.
You don't
cry. You either shriek or shriek louder. You are an explosive little
firecracker when it comes to your opinion and your are quite expressive about
things you disapprove of.
You hate
wearing clothes and cringe at diapers. Dressing time is drama time, involving a
lot of jumping and wiggling and shrieking. Did I mention shrieking? I think I
did.
You don't
take NO for an answer. While others may see you as a tiny little punk who absolutely
locks in, to me that's being assertive and positively determined .
You are a
sleep thief. One B-I-G one! Your
bumless energy wears me out even on a good day but continues to fuel your
unexplained need to jump and declare party after 30 minutes of sleep.
You are the
most perceptive little cookie I know.
Born with a set of ultrasonic sensors you soak in the slightest of sound,
smell, touch and sight making your every experience a sensory onslaught.
You are NOT quiet,
contrary to what people believe. Prompt withdrawal is your first reaction to
everything new, be it people or experiences. Once you are comfortable, then
there is no holding you back.
People still tell
me I was brave. But I have stopped
reviewing my pregnancy, the unpleasant birth or the challenges you faced
starting the first few hours of your life. It almost feels disrespectful to do
so anymore. But the truth is, that there
are days when I feel far from brave, days
when I wonder why can't you be like other kids? Tad easier. I know I should be
sorry, it's silly of me to homogenize you. You were different to begin with. I remember how I
had lain awake more nights that I could reckon, when inside me you kicked so
hard that I could hardly close my eyes. And now that you are here, I see that
you are nothing like the phantom kid I
had envisioned in my head.
God did not give me a blank canvas I could paint on. He
gave me one that came with its own colors, intense and brilliant like sunshine
but equally so pure that I would embrace them everyday even if it meant getting
burned.
Happy Birthday Abir! I love you too much. More than I
could ever explain and much more than you will ever know.