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The apple of my eye and my dream come true. Looking back reminds me of her as a tiny petite pre-term baby weighing 2.4kg.Lying close to her with my hand on her chest I could literally hear her breathe as she was sleeping peacefully after crying to her capacity. Didn’t think she’d look this way ever. She had transformed into a healthy sweet baby. My sweetie-pie now looked like a fairy.

Difficult to handle and even hold properly I had gathered courage from heavens to take her into my arms her for the first time. Admiring my baby daughter, thanking God for what she is today, I put my fingers on her scalp combing through her dense soft hair above her forehead that now touched her eyebrows when straightened. Look at her from a distance and mistake it to be a black piece of cloth tied to her head in place of a cap. Her starry eyes which are pools of cool love had been shut. But the corner of her eye remained with a drop of tear. I wanted to remove it from there and treasure it. For me, it was precious. Priceless. As I wiped her eyes, my eyes refused to stop gazing at this real beauty. It was truly a joy that would remain in my heart forever.

I screamed with surprise when I’d put her on the weighing machine with the doctor last week. Hurray, she was 5kg. She was improving just like a normal baby does. No wonder, the bony structure was now enveloped by a thick layer of flesh.

You bet, she is a happy baby as well. Look into her face and call her, praise her and pat her, she would wrinkle her face lifting her nose to smile. Well, that would be for a fraction of a second but her thin sweet lips fold towards inside of her mouth to add that special thing to her naughty smile.

She was active than ever before. Wearing a white colored frock with blue flowers all over, my sweet angel rode her imaginary scooter lying on the bed with her legs up and fisted arms straight and she struggled to come into lateral position. Still couldn’t. Cover her up with a blanket and it wouldn’t be there on her in a minute. This three month old wonder has got guys at home going crazy.

Who doesn’t love such a baby? She’s for sure, on the hot seat. People wait for their turn or a chance to hold her and play with her. Always surrounded by people she is beginning to recognize them.

Why would he bother the little girl so much? You don’t have to scream repeatedly or make loud & strange noises to attract her attention. I know he loves her a lot. She is his first grandchild. A baby in the family after nearly 28 years.

I was so happy to see her playing all by herself looking at the picture of God Ganesha that I had put up on the walls of my room which of course is her room too. He first walked around the house restlessly not knowing that somebody is observing him. Peeped into the kitchen and headed right towards the little one who was happy in her own world. I believe infants need to spend some time on their own trying to recognize & understand things around them and discover the world. Hey, I am still to read and learn child psychology. Yeah, that’s the way they do some physical exercise by moving their hands and legs.

Disturb her and she would start screaming. Though standing in the kitchen making rolls of the dough while the pan got hot enough to make parathas for the family which the old man would chew and gobble down to his hearts’ content after meddling with my child, I had my ears stuck out to hear how my baby daughter responds to his actions.

He’s crazy about her. Initially, she was fine to his calling. But he didn’t wait to lift the baby out of her bed. He proudly made it loud enough to be heard by all at home that it is play time for him and the baby.

From one position to the other, from here to there, my girl was put on the bed for a second and soon taken into arms and when she didn’t stay stable, put on the shoulder. Finally, when she was put on the bed in the drawing room she was twisted & turned to the heights of her patience & pretty irritated.

He didn’t give up. Trials to make her keep quiet continued. I rushed to the place where she was lying. I had put off the burner as I couldn’t anymore continue what I was doing in the kitchen. She was restless. He looked at me and enquired if the small wonder is hungry. Yes, she was. Hungry for me, my consolation and restless to come into my arms.

He tried relentlessly by telling her different things but all in vain. I intervened asking if I could make her keep quiet and he turned deaf. And he continued trying to make a very desperate infant calm down.

It was the turn of a so-called motherly person to try her luck. I now know what the word “Mother” exactly means! She claims to have successfully raised three children and of course, today all of them are big enough to have babies themselves. But parenting isn’t all about seeing your babies grow. She is a bundle of myths and notions about child raising.

“You don’t know to handle her”, “It is not to be done this way, you are troubling the kid” “Keep her warm”. Should I keep her warm in this sweating hot climate? God give me a break! I’m sure God has given every mom enough instincts to know when and what her baby feels!

The episode continued until I went and stood in front of the child like a statue though, not saying a word that would hurt these old folks, still making my inner self heard-“Give that baby to me, now!”

The baby was at last given to me with comments on her being an impossible and very adamant child and ooohhh! Aaah! What a relief! To me, first of all, and to that poor thing. She continued blabbering and mumbling as if she were complaining about all that happened and thinking I didn’t know what she went through, telling me how irked she was! I’ve lived every moment of her agony. I’ve felt the same she’d felt.

Her bums on my right arm, the back of her head in my left palm, her right hand hanging towards down on my left arm, her forehead on my chest, I held her so close to me that she could feel the warmth of my body and hear my heart beat. There was absolute silence in the house now, after twenty minutes of ado and confusion. I was still standing in the drawing room to show them that what the girl needs is delicacy in handling and a peaceful atmosphere.

She was still moaning whenever she remembered the torture. Kissing her ear gently, I whispered several times “Look honey, this is mamma” until she realized the same. She no more tossed and turned but stayed back in the same held position for five whole minutes.

She had stopped even moaning. I wondered if she would like to lie down. Ready to take her back into my arms if she cried, I bent forward completely and carefully placed her back on her bed, which is mine as well and found her looking at me fondly.

I knew it before she said. Who could know the baby better than a mom? She was exhausted. After all that physical and mental stress, she was left with a dry mouth and a hungry stomach. I lied down beside her. Pulled her towards me and asked her “Milk?” She looked at me as if she was looking at herself in the mirror for the first time and not knowing whether it is true or an illusion. As I repeated my question again and again, only to see her naughty smile, she did smile and in a second started moaning again out of hunger.

I repented for wasting time talking to her. I quickly helped her locate my breast which was engorged with milk. She struggled to get a grip of it as she was too restless to concentrate. Thank God, She finally tightened her jaws around the areola and began sucking milk.

I could see her eyes drooping. She was done. And before I could make her burp, she was fast asleep. Yes, she belongs to me! “Folks, next time a baby is restless, just leave the mamma and the baby alone. Just the mamma and her baby in their own world” I said to the walls of the house and took a nap along with my sweet angel.


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The following comments are for "She belongs to me"

Funny how it turned out.
Some things most definately look better in one's mind than they do on paper or on the internet or computer documentation program.

It's funny how it turned out as I read it...Sad to say, I was unable to tell if this was abstract poetry or a short story. Perhaps, to my viewing dismay, I have been wrong in assuming that this piece is either of those, but if I am correct, it could use some cleaning up and grammatical/spelling checks.

( Posted by: carnifex [Member] On: January 27, 2006 )

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