And then she was TWO!

And then she was TWO!

Two years ago three minutes ago. She was pulled out of me, held by her bum. (Don’t hate me my teenager, you bit me twice last night. You earned this intro).

Two hours (two years) ago, I was bouncing on the hospital bed trying to figure how comfortable (or not) it is.

With an entire baby in-utero.

I wish someone had made a boomerang of that. Missed Photo (Video)- Op.

That last trimester makes you want to do fun(ny) stuff. You’re so uncomfortable, anything goes.

The relief that comes with the “finally it’s time” for any pregnant mom was my TOM (top of mind). I was two days away from the 39 week mark. By that time every pregnant girl is DONE with her off Centre self and just ready to yank the baby out. Trust me. Everyone is tired. They just don’t say it. Or if they’re me, their face says it for them.

Like having to sit next to a runny nose, half dressed kid on public transport who is chewing sugar cane and spitting the remnants on your feet. Yes. Hold it right there! That kinda face.

My entire surgery, I was discussing the hospital’s financial model with my doctor whose family owns the hospital we were at.

Spinal tap was painless. I just constantly felt the urge to move my feet so just irritating.

I was awake and chatting away with F and my GYN.

Someone’s post on Facebook reminded me what I said the first time I saw my child. I blurted out what o thought first instead. Theme remembered I thought something first but censored it and then spoke my second thought in line.

The first thought was “Jeez she looks like Doctor Yameen!”

Dr. Yameen was THE doctor of our lives. The man who was old when I was a baby and was still old when I started working. He was just stuck on the old setting and never seemed to budge. Our family GP who would have the cure to everything from my multiple falls (tincture iodine and numerous tetanus injections) to my khala’s unborn child’s ultrasound to help her calm down that her baby was okay. His clinic was a go to for EVERYTHING under the sun. I miss him.

But not as much to be comfortable with my baby looking like him bhai.

Of course that isn’t the “first thought when you saw your baby” appropriate material in any galaxy. Must be hereditary. My mum saw me when I was born and squealed “Ammi mera bachcha bandar hai! (Mum! My kid is a monkey!). Because premature kid, no eyebrows or lashes and way too much hair on ears!

Clearly we are women of an eclectic (read eccentric) thought process with a broken filter which got a tad better with me for not saying it out loud but I did tell my mom first thing I got out only to see her eyes water. With laughter. She burst out laughing with her face going red and nodding in agreement. It was the swollen face. Thankfully she lost the resemblance the next day.

I knew only she would understand being weirded out by a newborn at first sight. even if it was your first born.

Sorry Sassu. This one’s on Nani jaan. That mad gene stuck. I’m fighting the rest.

The second thought which I vocalised the NEXT instant was, “Wait, this is IT? Where’s the rest of my baby? This can’t be it”

To the tone of which my OB/ GYN actually got flustered and got her weighed twice again ending up scolding me in relief. Stop being ridiculous Hareem she’s fine. She’s normal MashaAllah.

That’s ten points for having an assertive tone even for the man who just gathered and stuffed you back with your innards 3 minutes ago. One would imagine he would be feeling a tad more confident but I managed to rattle the entire operation theatre with my “absolutely sure” tone that they had certainly left some part of my child inside because “THIS little bean can’t be it”

That was this time two years ago. Before the journey started.

And then I met Sassu

The red in the face, cackling on third day of life (I have a picture to prove it!) Sassu whose mum would cry like a fool every time she would cry.

Typing away madly to finish off an email while she screams and screeches in the background, that’s a long way to have come by now but yeah. That’s where we are at now. She’s a toddler and grate on your nerves- whiny now because them bloody teeth! Her molars and one canine are stuck and we pay the price.

These five teeth are sucking the life out of my otherwise sunny baby. She’s miserable and we are miserable-r.

Yeah.

Like kick in the face to get a swollen lip kinda miserable-r. True story.

I love my spirited child. With all the madness she brings to our life I won’t have her any other way possible.

She braved a two and a half day journey from London to Lahore comprising of cancelled flights and delayed connections with me last week and was a champ like no other.

Thank you Neutrogena for making a travel size hand cream, Dora the Explorer, Emirates, Books, Pencils and Papers, Play Doh, Ergo Baby, Bottled Water, Yoyo Strawberry Rollups, the Haribo free gummy bears lady at the airport, the tribe of passengers on the same journey who stuck along and loved her as much as they did and the lovely and patient folks at duty free perfumes stations who amused her with her second favourite thing in the world. PSSHH PSSHH!

Countless strips of cards with so many different PSSHH PSSHH to smell! I think I managed to save one.

She’s amazing like that.

And in so many other ways.

I love her clarity of thought and perseverance.

I wish she never loses that.

You can’t distract her if she doesn’t allow you to.

The kid who knows her mind and unabashedly shows it.

Even if it means discarding newest toys and going around the house hugging each and every old toy she has “met” after over a month being away from home.

She won’t take no for an answer.

Which is difficult for now (read: killer) but that’s the kind of child I want to raise. One who lives on her own terms and not those of the world. I spent too much time in life living according to others around me. That’s the last person I would want her to become.

An amiable teenager is my worst nightmare.

Sass if you’re reading this years from now. Don’t you dare become agreeable and submissive. You’ll break my heart. For reals.

My girl is a force of nature.

My nutty little squirrel who loves without bounds but doesn’t know a way other than hers.

I’ll teach her the realities of life and the beauty of failure some day. That day is far from now and hopefully won’t affect the crazy activist inside you who stages a protest over EVERYTHING.

I find beauty in her adamant ways.

Shukar Alhamdulillah for a child that questions.

Shukar Alhamdulillah for a child who knows her mind.

Shukar Alhamdulillah for Sassi.

My life was great without you but you came and tweaked great for us. Just a little bit.