Nisarga

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Doctor’s visit in Parle

Much has happened since the previous posts. I finally gave up on trying to patch the marriage and have moved back to the father, which isn’t a big improvement, but still as step in the right direction.

So, we needed a pediatrician in Parle, and we went to one this time. And what an ace!!! Nisarga has five tests pending – all of them off beat and not easily found, so most doctors kept pointing us to Jaslok, where their appointment procedure was confusing, and it is an hour’s drive at least, so multiple appointments would be a pain.

In an effort to get what we could done nearby, so that at least the agenda on the day we did go to Jaslok was lesser, I got the opthalmic testing done yesterday. The doctor found nothing of concern, but recommended another test – again at Jaslok.

Today’s doctor was able to provide us options that were literally within fifteen minutes at home, plus definite contact numbers and so on. Very useful.

He also was the first doctor to acknowledge that Nisarga’s spine indeed seems to have a curve. Most doctor’s had shrugged it off as something of less consequence. So I wasn’t being paranoid and his back does have a curve.

Nisarga was his usual engaging self while we waited, and lost patience rapidly once we went in. Luckily, the location of the clinic is very charming and child friendly. Here are some pictures of Nisarga from when we waited.

At the end of the day, we are to do four more tests. The Karyotyping, Metabolic screening, BERA and eye opinion. Pretty much as planned originally. Just confirmed. However, he provided us on information where we can get these done without having to go too far. Also phone numbers from each place for getting appointments. Much improvement over the crazy attempts with Jaslok – very strange that no one in their ENT seemed interested in picking the phone and the one time they did, they sounded like they hadn’t heard of BERA, even though the receptionist had connected me with great confidence.

Earlier, most of the advice had been to go to Jaslok, which had been a big problem for me both in terms of expense as well as managing without assistance with Nisarga. So this is a most welcome visit in terms of making things possible, even though nothing different is known or happening on the medical front because of it. For the information of anyone else who may need it, I’ll share the details as and when we do the tests.

Not doing right by Nisarga

Getting a “much deserved” lecture on how to stop avoiding home life and start “doing more” at home. House is a mess. I know. I should hire another maid. Can’t afford. They all have their problems with me, but still don’t want me to leave. They are large hearted. I wish they weren’t. What they say is right. I am too depressed, using work as an escape, should be paying more attention to home and taking son out more. I don’t feel like doing it. Feel vaguely guilty (as intended) for Nisarga. The rest didn’t stick. Am I a selfish, callous person with a big ego? Probably. That is all I can afford right now. No energy to explain my landscape right now. No energy to explain the overwhelming task of using brief spurts of time to “do everything” in the house that reverts faster than I can fix. No energy to explain the futility of tidying up, when the Raka uses the floor as his godown. No energy to explain that I don’t have the money to pay the bills. No energy to explain that the way I get spoken to makes me want to avoid people and that I think its okay if I do so. Depression is a luxury name for being lazy apparently. Feel sad about Nisarga. I do my work online, and I do it more and more hoping to earn more money, but mostly as an escape because I get very depressed and angry when I look at the house. I exit the computer only for my son, and very brief spurts of work around the house. Many essential things neglected. Why me? Apparently, it is the fate of a woman to be saddled with uncaring men. What hurts is why Nisarga? He didn’t do anything to deserve this shit. Fast losing hope of finding any understanding in this place. Don’t wish to leave home, because for what its worth, in my nice little depressed world, it is the one familiar thing. The known evil, so to say, but coming to accept that I am only going to sink more here.

Transformation

I have learned living in a whole new way from my son.

For a long time, I’d been wondering, where do I express this. The transformation is manifesting in my personal life, so it could go on my personal blog, the transformation is manifesting in my professional life, so it should go on my professional blog, and the source of the transformation is Nisarga, so it belongs here. As you see, I am here, sharing this.

What is this transformation?

Before Nisarga was born, I had committed to myself that I would not blindly do anything without understanding what I was up to.

When he was born, I discovered that I pretty much knew nothing. Of course, it was my first child. What did I know? I started finding out. I discovered that if I was paying attention, I understood him very well. Life is simple. Smile is yes, frown is no, intent gaze is interest, show me more.

I discovered that responses change, and what brought a smile usually, may not be liked at all at some time. It was a learning in constantly seeing with attention, being with caring. This is not as tedious as my description. It is fascinating to discover that like me, like any other person, this little guy is taking in the world around him, selecting what to pay attention to, and has his own opinions about it.

Seeing how explanations don’t make sense to him, I learned to move away from them, and simply be with what is, however inexplicable, and discovered that it is. It doesn’t need explanations to be possible, because it already is. If he wants to nurse fifteen minutes after he was done, it doesn’t matter why. What matters is that he is hungry. The ‘Again?’ of surprise is irrelevant too. Living in the now means he needs me to nurse him. I don’ need to understand why, just do the needful. He has his own reasons, and no one else needs to know.

With time, I became so used to this, that explanations are dissolving from my life leaving my mind free to really see the need without analyzing its validity with everyone. Relationships are unfurling from the haze of unnecessary judgments I didn’t even know I used to clutter myself with. I find myself listening, really listening, and the responses I get reflect the new freedom I haves started bringing with me.

Life is different. Intimate. Rewarding.

And I can see how a child gives birth to a parent. I’ll go ahead and say that it is silly to focus on teaching your child, when there is so much you can learn.

Unschooling Nisarga

Okay, its world war three, and as usual, I’m in the thick of things. This time, it is a stray comment that Nisarga will not go to school. This has sparked a minor wave of arguments. Many have shaken their heads wryly thinking that its yet another of my strange ideas. Those who know me better have started their own campaigns of explaining how school is necessary to a well rounded childhood (as though they have explored options), how it will be difficult to sustain year after year the strain of educating the child, and more.

I find schools overrated.

I have been in one as a child. While not traumatized, it isn’t something to write home about.

My reasons for deciding to unschool Nisarga:

  1. Schooling is a huge investment in time. Compared with the time I invested in it, I have got precious little back. That is not to say I didn’t learn anything. It is simply saying that much of what I learned is rarely useful in life, and many things I learned actually harm my well being in real life.
  2. Schools teach us to quantify people based on a standard scale. We don’t really need much of what we learn in school, and most of what we need to learn in life, we learn from life. Yet, kids start believing themselves as clever or dumb based on what some ambitious bunch of teachers decides as life skills.
  3. The education system has no real way to impart necessary knowledge. One may argue that maths, science, history, language, etc are the foundations of learning. One may argue that they are certainly not. The fact is that very few schools actually prepare you for life. With calculators all around, I see no reason for my son to waste some of the prime developmental years of his life learning methods to divide 679676876 by 5875. Been there, done that, and never done it in real life. Always used a calculator – on my phone, my computer…
  4. Many subjects of knowledge are not covered though we pretend they are. Art for example is a joke. So is language, where a student will actually be considered ‘less’ for using slang, or ‘street language’ which is really an important part of speech in real life.
  5. Students are carefully molded into prescribed human beings and measured according to their ability to conform. This is actual damage.
  6. Think of all the life experience that he actually can learn things of interest to him that he can fit in in the coming 16 years (basic schooling). Travel, experimentation, art, science, people skills, computers, television, whatever. Whatever works. Once we aren’t obliged to measure our worth from standardized and useless examinations, there remains no real need to limit ourselves to prescribed learning and tentatively dabbling in our real interests. I see no reason why a kid can’t play video games all day and then grow up to make a living out of it. Or to play with colors and become an artist. Or to take apart things, improvise and then become an engineer or scientist. Or to become all of the above because he wants to, or to choose something else altogether.
  7. I suspect that schools often serve the purpose of keeping the kids occupied for parents who would much rather not have the hassle of dealing with their growth. This is not needed for me. I enjoy growing with him

I am not planning on teaching my child anything at all. Let alone school. I will share what I find important if he finds it interesting. If he doesn’t, there is really no need for him to learn to do maths (for example) till he needs it and figures it out. Or to know about all the countries in the world or to read history only to forget it. The big thing I am going to do to support his growth is to stop interfering with my own ideas of what is best for him.

For all those of you concerned that I’m going to ‘ruin’ my child, I appreciate your concern, and share my trust that he is a person and if learning turns out to be essential, he is capable of making a choice to engage in it as much as he likes.

If you have read this far, and see some value in what I say, I’d like to share that I have also discovered that unschooling is practiced by many people over the world. That is how I realized that my “no intention of sending my child to school (since before I even married)” actually had a name, and my instinct was indeed leading me to something many involved and caring parents found value in. You may find out more on:

  • http://www.naturalchild.org
  • http://sandradodd.com/unschooling
  • http://joyfullyrejoycing.com/

This is just the tip of the iceberg. There is a whole new world waiting to be discovered.

This is unorthodox. I know. But then I have never really been famous for following the rules.

PS: If you wish your child to excel in maths, this article is a must read.

Breastfeeding in public

I am a huge supporter of breastfeeding for many reasons, but the chief ones are:

  • Its the best choice of nutrition for my baby
  • Immunity or at least resistance from a lot of stuff – don’t really know from experience – Nisarga is my son – we have no use for doctors other than regular vaccinations and gas. Or maybe that is the experience.
  • Its quick and convenient – nothing has a response time faster than unbuttoning and putting baby to breast. I have absolutely no intentions of going to the kitchen to fix formula, clean bottles and so on with a hungry baby on hand

Bonus:

  • Lose your pregnancy weight faster
  • Have a baby who absolutely prefers you over anyone else in the world
  • Save money in products, doctor’s fees…. breastmilk is the best in quality and free!

That said, one of my first purchases was a breast pump. At that time, with a new baby, I didn’t really know how available I’d be, and I wanted to keep a supply of milk on hand ‘just in case’.  It has proven invaluable countless times, allowing the baby to be fed when I hop out to a shop or when I’ve had too much sleep deprivation. I had initially planned it to store milk for going out for work for a couple of hours too, but I’ve lost the inclination for that.

I am quite happy with India on the breastfeeding front, seeing how we are used to seeing women feeding their babies anywhere and everywhere. Sadly, this is now vanishing with ‘education’. Apparently the more educated you are, the more tempting your breast looks to people with evil thoughts. Good that I stopped before getting too educated.

Initially, I used to carry bottled milk to feed the baby when heading out in public. I was not very expert at it, and didn’t really want the baby to suffer from my incompetence and needs of specific kinds of support to be able to feed well. This really had nothing to do with public places. I would still have prefered the bottle if totally alone and secluded without adequate time and fidgeting support.

Now that I’m comfortable and the baby is a pro at this whole breastfeeding thing, the bottle is strictly for when I have to leave him behind to go somewhere and it is always a backup plan. Plan A is always to feed him and get back before he gets hungry again, or take him along.

I am getting used to people slowly recommending starting formula, and foods and what nots. With all my criticism of the older generations for unthinking child care practices, its actually my contemporaries who make these ‘helpful’ suggestions. My parents and in-laws have never so much as said ‘food’ with relevance to the baby at this age, and will probably disinherit me and adopt Nisarga if I even think of formula.

Yet my friends have recommended giving all kinds of things sooner than six months:

  • Water: Babies get thirsty
  • Juices: For digestion
  • Formula: For putting on weight
  • Cow’s Milk: For convenience
  • All of the above: for public places

Somewhere along the line, women can wear barely visible clothes in public and its trendy, but breastfeeding is obscene. What’s wrong with this picture? I have yet to see a single person – even street lechers – look at a breastfeeding woman with lust. Curiosity, sure. Appreciation at the beautiful bonding, often, but never really “hey sexy babe, show me your boobs” variety. Even if they did, how does it matter?

I eat in public when I’m hungry. Can I expect an infant not to?

A friend of mine got really distressed when I shared these thoughts and went into a flood of advice about using my breast pump and carrying a bottle along. Sure, I’ve done that. I’m not saying its a bad idea and it works so that someone else can feed him if necessary. Yet, there’s only so much milk a bottle contains, and only so much my breast contains. I find it far more graceful to have Nisarga feed than huge wet blobs on my clothes.

Then she suggested finding a private place like a restroom. You mean breastfeeding is so shameful that it must be hidden even if it means that you go into an entirely unhygienic place to FEED? Would YOU eat in a restroom? Ever seen what a restroom in a mall is like? What do I do if I’m travelling? Stop a flight, bus, car?

I miss living in the village where you could see a woman sitting in a field under the sky with a baby to her breast for all to see. I have yet to meet one who looked for a convenient bush to go behind. We appreciate photos of women breastfeeding in art shows, but deny that beauty in ourselves.

In a family gathering, kids and moms had a room to camp out in and I was breastfeeding Nisarga. Suddenly the door opened to have an uncle asking something from a cousin inside. With Nisarga barely a month old, we had a certain celebrity status, and everyone took moments to speak with me. This uncle saw me, and chatted. A sister-in-law with a grown up son was sitting nearby shell shocked. I was feeding and talking with a male at the same time!!!

I carry along a scarf or something suitable to drape. Its more to prevent Nisarga from getting distracted than for me to hide what I’m doing. Its a certain intimate boundary that feels nice. It certainly wouldn’t stop me if I had nothing to cover up, and Nisarga was hungry, though at his age we haven’t been out enough to get into that situation. And I definitely wouldn’t go into a public toilet to feed my baby. I’ve never been obsessed with how much of me is seen or hidden, and my husband can sit right next to me and not bat an eyelid. Where is the problem?

How is it that parents willing to go to fantastic extents to get admissions to some exclusive school, or be seen by only a child specialist with exhorbitant fees, or have every excellent toy for their child don’t value something that is the very fabric of life itself? Or is it because it doesn’t have a monetary tag attached? Or is it because its so ridiculously easy to manage, that its not important?

This is one area where the traditional old-timers have it right. Feed baby. Feed often. Don’t worry about the rest till your baby grows up.

What do you do/support/plan?

Mother development

I used to think of myself as a pretty self aware person. And sure, to a great extent, I am. But then, the self is like an onion the more layers you peel off, the tastier the core remains.

Nisarg is throwing me into a new learning curve as a person. It is impossible to have masks with infants. They operate on such a primitive level, that they simply don’t comprehend the masks. I may talk of patience and being there for him at 4am in the morning, but he knows what I will never verbalize – sleep, damnit!

Needless to say, it doesn’t work. Then, as my impatience shows through, he gets agitated. Eventually, exhausted, I’m beyond impatience, and what he sees is what he gets. A limp, sleepy mom. And suddenly sleep sounds like a good idea to him too.

Approaching the same situaiton in another way, I could say that my moods transfer to him. If I’m tense, I will never be able to get him to relax. If I’m waiting for him to sleep, he’s waiting right along with me…..

I may talk baby talk with him, but when I enjoy myself, I get gummy grins. When I’m just talking to “make him quiet” I get hurt and puzzled looks as he shreds my heart by looking into my eyes when he cries.

Many inexplicable situations later, I’m slowly starting to question the honesty of my behaviour. Sure. I’m honest to some extent. But what is the real issue? What are my feelings for my son that I disown because they are not “appropriate”?

This reminds me of some comments I got on my poem “What you see is what you get” on facebook and in my emails. The essence is:

A child gives birth to a mother.

The teacher comes as the humble student.

I think it is important that I remember that juust because I happened to be born earlier doesn’t mean that I know it all. Just because he is dependent on me doesn’t mean that the vast learnings he brings me are to be less respected than the most insightful guru around. Just because he isn’t a famous guru doesn’t mean that he is any less effective in transforming my life.

Its incredible how when I strip off all the facades, resign myself to the demise of all pretences and embrace the joy of simply being; how much joy I am able to spread. How much caring I am able to convey. How much support I am able to contribute…. How much MORE I am, just because a pint size teacher chose to be naked and embrace life with open arms.

Pain and fear

Just had some awful news. A friend of mine had a son recently and he developed some problems after birth and had to be hospitalized, where he died after two days. This must have been the hardest thing I have ever done….. I gave her a call and spoke with her briefly.

What do you say to a new mother who loses her child?

Just the thought of it was enough to shred all coherence from me, and we spent some torturous minutes of uncomprehending grief.

As a new mother myself, I have no fear greater than this, and I can only imagine how a mother who should have been celebrating instead is dealing with engorged breasts and no one to feed. All the hopes, dreams, love….. shattered.

I don’t know what to say, I don’t even know what to wish for…. Not my child. Mine is waving his hands and cooing as I swipe at tears, in a complete role reversal. For once, he doesn’t know why I’m crying and what to do about it. I’m grateful that I’m crying over a loss I will not be living with.

The journey of vulnerability – A timeline

Two eyes met, attraction sparked.
Sexy, confident, secure

Two hearts met intention formed
Invincible together

Two lives merged, married
Embraced and celebrated

Differences arose, got resolved…. or not
Experience grew

A small line on a stick changed colour
Eagerness stirred

The new life coming up became more and more real
Plans began – would they be?

The child was born
The heart burst wide open

The child continued to be
starry dreams stood on stake

Choices swayed in the wind, uncertainties trembled on melting edges
would my baby pay the price of this unthinking ignorance?

and now…..

The secure heart has this gaping hole of vulnerability and glorious fragility marches forward with purpose.

What you see is what you get

What you see is what you get
I live with innocence.

Scary innocence like I never thought possible
Courage to be defenceless in the unknown
And face and meet whatever comes along
Till I want to hide him away to keep him safe

One little guy who smiles, cries, grunts, stares
And what you see is what you get

No camouflage, no subterfuge, no pretences, no protection
Can I bear it?

Can I have the courage to keep looking into this mirror day after day?
Can I rediscover myself to meet that honesty?

My life throws up difficulties of simplicity
My self expands to encompass everything and fails

Yet I keep living each moment to my capacity
There is one to whom I am all he knows as okay

Where I have the power to define an entire world
I try that what he gets is what he sees in me.