I want to write about my times
From the time i got to Know my son has down syndrome
Till today

I want to write each and every feeling of mine
Things I could not share with anyone..and sometimes even not with myself
I have to ..have to write it here...

Else there shall be no witness to my life
To my moments of complete randomness

So I shall write..one at a time
Each day..each moment...

My baby has down syndrome

Yes he has and I love him for all that he is and more..
Here is my FB post which I put up last month

October is the month of down syndrome awareness and in this month(after much apprehensions) I choose to make the small world in FB aware of the fact that my baby has down syndrome and it means nothing compared to the possibilities and potentials he has
I will be posting more DS myths in days to come but today I want to just share this small story someone posted in another group:
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Most women become mothers by accident, some by choice, a few by social pressures, and a couple by habit. This year, nearly 100,000 women will become mothers of special needs children. Did you ever wonder how mothers of special needs children are chosen ? Somehow, I visualize God hovering over Earth selecting his instruments for propagation with great care and deliberation. As he observes, he instructs his angels to make notes in a giant ledger.
„Armstrong, Beth; son; patron saint, Matthew.“
„Forrester, Marjorie; daughter; patron saint, Cecelia.“
„Rudledge, Carrie; twins; patron saint… give her Gerard. He’s used to profanity.“
Finally, he passes a name to an angel and smiles, „Give her a special needs child.“
The angel is curious. „Why this one, God ? She’s so happy.“
„Exactly,“ smiles God.
„Could I give a special needs child a mother who does not know laughter ? That would be cruel.“
„But has she patience ?“ asks the angel.
„I don’t want her to have too much patience or she will drown in a sea of self-pity and despair. Once the shock and resentment wears off, she’ll handle it. I watched her today. She has that feeling of self and independence. She’ll have to teach the child to live in her world and that’s not going to be easy.“
„But, Lord, I don’t think she even believes in you.“
God smiles. „No matter. I can fix that. This one is perfect. She has just enough selfishness.“
The angel gasps, „Selfishness ? Is that a virtue ?“
God nods. „If she can’t seperate herself from the child occasionally, she’ll never survive. Yes, there is a woman I will bless with a child less then perfect. She doesn’t realize it yet, but she is to be envied. She will never take for granted a ‚spoken word.‘ She will never consider a ‚step‘ ordinary. When her child says ‚Momma‘ for the first time, she will be present at a miracle and know it ! When she describes a tree or a sunset to her blind child, she will see it as few people ever see my creations.
„I will permit her to see clearly the things I see — ignorance, cruelty, prejudice — and allow her to rise above them. She will never be alone. I will be at her side every minute of every day of her life because she is doing my work as surely as she is here by my side.“
„And what about her patron saint ?“ asks the angel, his pen poised in midair.
God smiles. “ A mirror will suffice.“
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DS myth : Down syndrome is genetic so there's nothing you can do to treat it. Just take her home and love him.
DS reality : Ds is genetic. There is no cure, but the underlying mechanisms are biochemical and thus can be treated through diet, supplementation and targeted nutritional intervention. Even cognitive delays are now being treated.Unfortunately, most doctors receive less than 24 hours of nutritional instruction in med school. By aggressively treating the symptoms of Ds (vitamin deficiencies, biochemical imbalances, oxidative stress, hypothyroidism, apnea, growth hormone deficiency, malabsorption, etc.) we can improve, correct and prevent many of the problems associated with Ds. If your doctor is telling you otherwise, their expectations for your child are too low.
(Note: I would not take any comment saying "I am sorry" as having him in my life is nothing to be sorry for and I pity those who might feel like that, cos a child for me is not an investment)
"When your heart cracks open, it allows the light to shine in."
My Aaru is my means to glory..to beauty..to wonder..to miracle and to the very thing that makes me

Tu jo mila..to ho gaya main kabil..tu jo mila..to ho gaya sab haasil

Today my sweetu , my son Aaru aka Araadhya Srijan, went out for my sisrer's musical show without me, as I was feeling really tired.

This was his first time without me outside house, for such a long time
I kept calling now and then to know his status and my mom reported that though he looked jolly while going out but the moment he realised that I am not around, he cried bitterly. But they could get him around after car trip and moving around. My mom's presence is reassuring for him and me as well.

But the fact that for a while he missed me like mad, made me fee strangely satisfied.

I am a working mother and he gets to spend only 30% of his waking moments with me, in a week. Rest 70% is with my mother yet he craves for me!!???

This feeling is so enriching, so rewarding, so beautiful that I can forget all my malice, all my anger with the world in just that one moment of him trying to find me in every face and crying cos he can not see me

His feeling is so re-assuring to me in many ways..it tells me that apart from what I appear to the world, I am beautiful..I am spotless..I am perfect
Apart from how I torn and scattered I feel, his feeling for me assures me that all thats broken in me will be mended just cos he thinks I can mend it all for him

My love for him, which results in his immense love and trust in me...decides it all

He tells me that I am invincible

There is something so pure about a child loving you, so attractive, so heart wrenching that the toughest can melt
I see Aaru flashing his smile all around ..to the auto wala, the sweeper, each of them smiling back to him..the ones whom we see usually grumpy with us

And to have that child's love so centered around you..is a privilege, is a gift

Tu jo mila..to ho gaya main kabil..tu jo mila..to ho gaya sab haasil

Cos someone like me can not be part of mundane

I have decided on one thing..I will say all the things to myself that I wished someone else would say to me..someday..sometime

How does it matter that the words you want to hear are said by you and noone else

So somedays I tell myself..you are strong as hell, noone can touch the fire in you..I am like Dagny Taggart from Atlas Shrugged(someone had actually once said that to me) or Maya Angelou's phenomenal woman

Or some days I revel in my own mystery, and fall in love with my own slightly kohled eyes..
I feel like embodiment of all the secrets a woman is made of..like Binodini of Choker Bali, like Anna of Anna Karenina, like Tess of Tess of D'urbervilles

And on another day when I feel defeated, I feel a nothing, I feel like a wind in barren land..I still presume there is some beauty in that, must be..cos someone like me can not be part of mundane

Yes its just that one last thing about me which keeps me going, that I feel like that about myself..always..forever

Epiphany

There are bits and pieces of us, scattered around in those places and people where our are hearts have found something new, exciting, enriching

when we revisit those places, we revisit ourselves, , we revert a little to the old, feel a little more than usual that we felt off-late

As we try assimilating all that we were..that assimilation gives a little high..to know ourselves as we used to be..to realize there is a faint chance of us getting back to that

But all we do is go in circles around a mass of colossal sadness, making every memory of ourselves ..solidifying that what has been will never again will be

Yet, I hear an old song..and sometimes in midst of all the chaos..I find myself anewed

With some people even the best resort in the heart of Paris does not seem to mean a thing. The beauty of outside seems to taunt and torment the dullness inside. Your heart just does not get engrossed in anything.

And with some the dingiest bar is a place to glorify..the stupidiest joke is worth laughing a 1000 times, everything around that person makes a hell of a memory to go back and play it again and again...for making your life worth something

Unsung deires

There are desires meshed in the pores of her being
And sometimes they come on the surface
Making her glow, they perspire out of her

It's fragrance reaches the one it's meant to

The beauty of her desire was..
that it was flimsy
Like giggles of teenaged girls
Hidden and muffled

She waits, for something within her to be negated
She waits for something to be asserted

There are parts of her
Unknown and unheard

She wanted to explore something
Doesn't remember what
Something of the outside or within..?
Those memories come back when she sees
A stony

She wants to know what else can she be
Away and apart from what she has become

she waits the fire in her to blow out, or to burn her
she is forever waiting, for her calling

she wants to drown all of it, or be drowned in it
there is no midway, it cant be that for her
not her...