Four Years of You, My Miracle

I love my sister, so I always wanted a baby girl.
I suffered three miscarriages before her.
It was so dangerous when I was pregnant with her, but it was Margashir Mahalaxmi month, and I always thought it was my Devi Aai — my Goddess — who gave me my daughter.

When she was born, I was unconscious.
It was a normal delivery but so painful. I couldn’t even get up. When the doctor took her out from my womb, I still tried to get up to see her. The doctor told me not to stay there and watch, and then she said, “It’s a girl” — thinking I might be expecting a son.
But I told her, “No, ma’am… I always wanted a daughter.” That was the last thing I remember before I felt dizzy, numb, unable to move or talk, only hearing voices. I had pain near my stitches, I was shivering from the cold, my legs were trembling.

When they took me to the room, my husband whispered in my ear, “She is so pretty, look.” But my eyes couldn’t open because at 12 am my water broke, my BP was high, the doctor gave me 100 mg medicine and told me to wait till morning. From 12 am to 4:51 am, I was continuously in labor pain. The pain was like a wave from my back to my knees. I kept going to the washroom and coming out, so tired.

I kept taking the name of Mohta Devi Aai, saying, “Save me.” I closed my eyes, tired of bearing the pain. I said, “Save me,” and in the next 15 minutes, I delivered a baby girl.
I felt like I was dying — I couldn’t even enjoy the moment.

When I came to my senses, my friend put her in front of me. She was continuously sucking her whole hand. She was fair, not dark like me. I thought, “If my mom and family were here, they would have said thank God she is fair.”

Her nails — you can’t believe it — were so big and perfectly shaped, like a model’s. I thought, “How cute they are.” I took multiple pictures without flash to remember her first look and to show her one day. But honestly, when I held her, I thought, “Shit, man… this is going to be a tough job. I’m not even mature enough to handle this.” And she was so pretty, so cute.

Now, she has immense strength and I have low patience, low energy to cope with her.
She is smile, loving, caring, loud, and stubborn.
She gives me “I love you, mummy” with a pouting kiss.

I’m proud that she speaks English more than our mother tongue Marathi, just by watching English kids’ videos on TV. She has given up on many things because when her brother came into our life, the love got divided. When she cries, I want to hug her, but my little son also gets scared and wants a hug, so she sometimes doesn’t get her own time. I feel sorry for this, but she never makes me feel she is angry at me — she steps back herself so I can take my son, because he is smaller. She understands me sometimes deeply.

Our whole room’s walls are drawn by her — I even joined her once with pencil colour. She loves acting, loves to be a diva, and when she acts like a diva, I laugh because her mother still can’t learn to be a diva. She says no to my face and is stubborn all the time. I think, “From where does this stubbornness come?” She is a daddy’s girl — her father gives her every toy she asks for. I’m the one who scolds both.

If she wants anything, she hides it from me and says it softly to her baba. And when she wants something from me, she gives me more kisses and love. Recently I bought her sketch pens — in one day she filled all the pages of her drawing book, then drew on the TV, on the walls, on her hands, on her mouth, everywhere. I didn’t scold her because I remembered my own memory when I painted my nails with a sketch pen. For that, my teacher called my brother from his class to tell him what I’d done. I went home and washed my hands so hard out of fear 🤣.

So I let her stay like that all day — didn’t even bathe her — so she could live one day messy. The next day, when I bathed her and the marks went away, she stood in front of the mirror and said, “Woww” to herself. I just laughed. She loves herself. Thank God she is not like me. But sometimes she is like me — she cries a lot over small things. Even if I scold her, she will cry for an hour until I say sorry.

She is the first person in my life who has seen the real me. With people or even family, I can’t get angry. But the first time I ever lost control in anger was with my daughter. She was tough — she cried a lot during nights for 3 years.

When I was pregnant the second time, she got pneumonia at age 2.5. We had to admit her to the hospital. That was the worst day of my life. Even when we went daily for her dose, I cried if she got an injection. The nurse scolded me, saying, “First time be strong — you are a mom.” I remembered my own childhood, how our family doctor spoke sweetly to make me take an injection. I hated injections.

The first time they put her on saline, I cried constantly thinking, “She has to be admitted.” My husband stayed near her while the saline was being put in because I couldn’t see her in pain. I was crying in the hospital corner until the doctor came to console me, saying, “Don’t cry, she will be fine, it’s nothing serious.” Those 3 days in hospital were tough — she was crying in pain, and both of us were suffering. I can’t see her ill.

When her father goes to work, every time she gives him a hug, kiss, and supportive words like, “Baba, take care of yourself, it’s hot,” or “You can do it, Baba.” She asks me, “Mummy, are you fine?”

I feel guilty — she wants to play the whole day with me, but my energy drains me. I’m lost and stuck, and still want love so I can give her more.

I wish my daughter never tries to become a “good daughter” just to please anyone. I just want her to be herself — her version — bold, not like me, an emotional fool. I’m sorry, Shiv, for my anger. Because my energy is low, it’s my fault, not yours. Sorry for those moments I yelled at you.

You are enough for me — good or bad, you.
I’m lucky to have you.
Don’t ever change for anyone.
Be you.

And I’m so sorry I can’t give you grandparents’ love.
I’m sorry, Shiv — you deserve the world. 🎉HAPPY 🎉BIRTHDAY 🎁SHIVANYA 🎊🍫

“You Are Enough for Me, Shiv — Always”