Connected, yet disconnected…c’est la vie

We get so busy with our lives that we forget what it truly means to live. We use this excuse of being so busy that we don’t have time to meet with our old friends, meet with our family or to truly live. 

I found out today that a friend passed away back in April. I was shocked on why I was just finding out. He was younger than me, and was my brothers classmate. I have basically known him almost 30 years. He leaves behind his wife, kids and parents. My heart breaks for his family, especially for his parents. I am grateful I got to see him a few years ago and he got to spend time with my family. But just like that a young life was taken.

I have always said that our life is unpredictable, and death is inevitable. But how we chose to live our life everyday does matter. I have stopped watching the news because it is so depressing, I also keep toxic people at bay, but I do eat that ice cream when I want. But I am also working on getting healthier for myself so I can live my life better. I am trying to consciously do things that make me happy, though I have days that are just too hard to handle. I will still get up, wear that smile and be thankful to be able to see another sunrise. 

So my dear friend…I hope you are at peace wherever you are. I hope and pray your family finds solace in all the good memories. And I hope we take this as a lesson on how short this life truly is. 


Till we meet again…..

September 21st

Every year as September 21st rolls around, I find myself picturing what my kid would have looked like now. She would have been eight on the 21st.

I lost Sasha due to a miscarriage while I was visiting my parents back in India. It was my first pregnancy, and this devastated me as I was older when I got pregnant. As I sit here with a lump in my throat, which is a common occurrence around this time, I often wonder what kind of child my Sasha would have been. She would have been eight tomorrow, celebrating along with her great-grandfathers birthday.

My emotions regarding her have always been extremely private. I mourned for her alone, and I find myself crying often around this time by myself. Even though I never got to see her at all, I have this image of her-a spunky little fire-cracker. But then again, I currently have a spunky little fire-cracker of my own now. I cannot pen exactly what I feel, but anyone that has suffered a miscarriage would probably understand.

Some people find it strange that I buy a cupcake in her memory every 21st September, and they don’t understand why I don’t just move on. I have moved on, but not according to the way society thinks I should. I keep her memory alive, because the sound of that heartbeat is a life that was very dear to me. I love that I can celebrate this with my son, and he knows that Sasha was the big sister he would never have. And he also knows that she probably protected him, when I almost lost him too.

So to my little Sasha: as you celebrate your eight birthday with your great grandpa, I wanted to let you know that we love you and miss you. So till we meet…

Happy Birthday my fire-cracker!

Your Mommy.

 

SASHA….I killed her.

I still hear her beating heart at times. She would have been 8 in six months.

When I was a teenager, I always knew for some reason that my first baby would be named Sasha. Why that name? I have absolutely no clue. But that was to be their name-boy or girl. Well, marriage was far from my mind when I was younger, as I had so much more to do with my life. I did what was needed-school, college, job and then finally in my thirties I decided to get married. Even that almost did not happen, but then again who said you need to be married to have a baby.

On my way to India in January 2008, I knew I was pregnant. I did not tell anyone. I happened to be in Bombay, when my aunt looked at me and asked if I was pregnant. I didn’t think it was that obvious, since it was only the first month. Well me being in a doctors home, I was given a pregnancy test and lo and behold I was. I was happy and scared as I was traveling. Something just did not feel right. Mentally, I was very stressed and would fight with my parents. I didn’t know I had so much anger and rage. Blame it on hormones, environment or whatever, but this should have been the most joyous moment of my life and I felt uneasy.

From Bombay we went to Delhi, and then back to Bangalore. My husband was arriving and we were to head out to Madras via road or did we fly I cannot remember. Everyone was happy with the news, I was too but not all the time. We drove to Pondicherry, and that was a long drive. We stopped at some fort by the beach, and saw that they had just found a woman who had drowned. What a horrible sight, and what was worse they just dumped her body in the trunk of the car and shut the trunk lid. We moved on and I decided to climb a wall to get sight of the view. Climbing down I had help and then decided to jump. My mom told me not to but it was too late. That night the inevitable happened I started bleeding and had to wait all night to get to the doctor the next day. OMG, her heart was beating, weak, but beating. I cried and asked for my husband to come in, but India has some weird rules and he could not hear the heartbeat. I cried and pleaded as I knew this was the only time I would hear that heart but they could not care less.

My husband had to leave on the day I had my ultrasound in Bangalore. The treatment of women who are about to lose their baby is horrendous in India. The lack of empathy and emotion really bothered me, like this life did not matter.They did the ultrasound and I was told “its dead”. I lay there motionless and without any emotion. Came out to a room full of people, looked at my mom and said the same thing-its dead. I was given the abortion pills and instructions. I just wanted someone to hold me, and I was alone, like I always was. My baby was no more, and my heart was broken never ever to be the same again. I was not going to be the same. My bitterness increased to a new level. I still had my smile, but no one knew the pain I was going through and I decided to shut the world out of my life.

I told my parents to leave me alone in the apartment. I did not want anyone around me and needed my privacy while I grieved for someone I had never met and was never going to meet. Just the sound of her heartbeat stayed with me and played in my head. I cried every day till I left. My parents cried, my brother cried, all for a little soul we had not met. All I thought about was that I had killed my baby, and that ate at me and still does to this day. There are days I still hear her heartbeat and cry and that will stay with me till I die. I got pregnant again and thought this time around I would be careful till I decided to lift my husbands niece so she could wash her hands. And I woke up hysterical and bleeding and just thought to myself I cannot go through this again. This time around he was a strong one, a fighter and had his sister protecting him. My miracle baby. I finally became a mother.

Every year my son and I celebrate Sasha’s birthday on September 21st, the day of my grandfathers birthday too. He knows that she was his big sister who watched over him and all I know is that I am the one who killed her.