Maternity

At the ripe middle age of 36, I am a part-time carer, part-time teacher (at home! ) and full-time mother to my little girls, aged 8 yrs and 6 yrs old. I'm in relatively good health too, apart from a non-life-threatening illness that will be with me forever now. So, as I said, I feel fine, inspite of the complicated way the doctors are treating me which means I must never have any more children, ever. Not at all. (Due to medication I'm on, for life now...) This finality, this decisiveness has, suddenly, made me a tad bit broody.... I mean, if I had a choice, I'd have probably not tried for another child, but having the decision taken firmly out of my grasp has left me feeling cheated, somehow. You know the feeling a woman gets when she sees another woman holding a newborn baby close, the tiny form held protectively in her arms... or when a pregnant mother contemplates a supermarket buy, one hand absently stroking her baby-bump... Sometimes, when these things happen to me, I miss the times when my girls were babies and I'd be getting frowns to 'put-them-down' and couldn't resist a cuddle!! Well, they're still cuddly, but much bigger now (not to mention heavier!!)...and over these eight-odd years of being their mum, I've come to understand and comprehend a whole lot more than I did in the years before God chose to give me this unique gift; maternity... I think of the time when they were little, born one-by-one, as naturally as it is possible, given the NHS. I miss the memory of their tiny curled-up fists, the translucent nails, the little features and eyes tightly shut....
It may sound cheesy, or even over-the-top, but the truth is, I never really appreciated the whole concept of the difference between 'men' and 'women', before I met my husband. Yes, I was aware of the physical, mental, cultural and temperamental variations between the two sexes, but to me, atleast, being a girl seemed like one hell of a drawback! Physically, atleast until I hit puberty, I did pretty much all the things my brother (and sister) did! We played cricket, ran about, rode our bicycles and 'explored' our neighbourhood.... But one fine day, it all changed and my world imploded when I realised that girls n boys have a fundamental difference. With the onset of (unwelcome, uncomfortable and wholly undesirable) periods, I felt horrid and wished I had been a boy. So much for my pre-pubescent physical angst...Things began to change slightly after I finished school and it was time to choose a University course. I found out I couldn't go away, out-of-town to a university of my liking, to pursue my studies, Heck, I couldn't even take off for six months of apprenticeship training as part of my degree course! My gran always fretted and worried about me if I were running late to get home, my father, trusting yet troubled, sat silently in the living room, the light of a single paper lantern illuminating his solemn features. He'd try to read, or listen to the radio as he waited, trying and failing to hide his frown of worry when my 'time problem' studio dragged on and on... or when he sheer scale. It wasn't easy, because I could see how many worries, how much of anguish I was heaping on my family; my Dad, my Gran and I hated myself for being a girl... Those were the years when I used to feel 'wronged', somehow....
It wasn't until I first realized I was expecting a baby, that I fully grasped the beauty of the miracle that God has bestowed upon womankind! My first thought was of my own mother; and all of a sudden, I found myself sobbing from the sheer pain of losing her as a 17 year old, and the bitter-sweet joy of how happy she might have been, to know that her scrawny, barely surviving, fighter of a baby was now at the receiving-end of the very same miracle.. the one that God wrought, to bring me to life...
My second, and almost instantaneous thought was, I needed to tell my husband! I managed to tell him without too many tears, so he'd not worry there was something wrong, and we fell into each others' arms, sobbing (me) and grinning (him) at the same time.. As the enormity of the faint pink  lines sank into our psyche, we hugged for joy and smiled the widest smiles! We did another test, just to make sure, and when I came back out (of the loo) positively beaming, we looked at the strips together scarcely able to believe our eyes! It was like the most beautiful day of our lives was near; okay, maybe not near enough seeing that it was still three-quarters of a year away, but near enough that we could envision it....!
After a memorable pregnancy, involving lots of absurd cravings, some predictable, some unimaginable (Southern Fried Chicken followed by mars bars, anyone!!??) I had my first-born... but that's another story...!! This blog is about, amongst other things, the way my life has changed ever since I became a mother.....Just thought I'd make a point!

BOY

I chanced upon a splendid film tonight, whilst online. 
It is moving, inspirational and made me weep too... But it is not a sad film, 
or a soppy one, 
it is truly, simply, OUTSTANDING....
'BOY, written by British Airways Great Britons winner Prasanna Puwanarajah is a moving short film starring actor Timothy Spall and was inspired by the London 2012 Olympic and Paralympic Games.
I watched it, and cried... yet, instantly felt inspired and here is what I then wrote:

BOY

Because LOVE has no language,

no colour, nor creed,

no barriers,

no limits,

and no place for greed,

because Love never speaks

yet the conversations flow,

as you give more you get more,

and so, watch it grow,

because love only gives of itself forever more,

for all that you are, 

and all you wish for...

it makes life's sweet pleasures and pain all alike,

as I watch a loving Father take off on a bike,

my eyes brimming over, I weep for his loss,

to have and to love then helplessly watch...

If time could be moulded, or changed in some way,

just bring back the lost Son,

Oh Lord, I would say...

-by Ruchita- 22:06- 17-04-2012

A truly inspiring film....

The Humane - Divine..

Do you believe you are human...?! Do you know if you really are?? What if I tell you, that I BELIEVE in something different... would that make me less human? ...Or perhaps, more arrogant, if I were to tell you what I truly believe in....
Let me explain...

I have been thinking a lot, for almost all my life, but never really committed it to paper- or keyboard, as the case may be- before. Sometimes, my thought process was so effervescent, like bubbles in a glass of Coke... barely there, and so very volatile, they never were meant for anything anyway... never amounting to anything more, just there for the flavour, if you see what I mean!??
This made me feel as if I should give my thoughts time to mature... like a fine wine; which gains its flavour, its age in itself, its true worth... (pardon me for resorting to coke and wine; I did not do this deliberately and my thoughts are not along those lines, I assure you!)
so, perhaps, now is the right time to elaborate.
...to write, and be read...
...to speak and be heard...
...to believe and be told that it is not baseless to believe in oneself...

If I look at my parents, and the values they've always stood for, I feel proud and confident of their inherent virtue, I feel humble...like a speck of cloud in the azure, expansive skies above; small, and yet larger-than-life; sure of my forefathers' immortality.
Not in form,
not even in words,
but as a school of thought that they came from.
This belief, this surety stems from the profound wisdom, the unshakable greatness of both my grandfathers, the simplicity and yet, the hard-working stock of my grandmothers, who, by performing their worldly duties and standing by their husbands so steadfastly, denoted to me all that was good and right in the world in those days.
When marriages were, truly, made in Heaven, and facilitated, nay, merely formalised by our Elders...
When the Marital vows were strong and robust, when the husband worked hard and provided for his family not only in terms of where their next meal came, but also how, in a home where he was just a presence that was 'felt' rather than 'seen'; 'experienced' and not so often 'heard' it was his principles that flowed in the veins of his progeny.
When the youngsters of the family knew, by the way their mothers spoke of their fathers, not taking their name...just by a whisper of a reference, by the sight of a familiar set of shoes in the place he always left them, by the way a window that was always half-open so she could know he had arrived...from the echo of his footfall...from the sound of the bicycle, scooter or car in the gully below... that HE was home..., that he was, indeed, a palpable a presence in his home. Its spirit, its soul its life-breath.
My Paternal Grandfather,Shri Halubha Shivubha Sodha, was just such a patriarch. He was always referred to as 'Bapuji' by all of us, He was straightforward, a man of high principles, and a low voice. He never did need to raise it, really. his mere presence commanded respect and admiration. All his children looked up to him, and strove to make him proud...
The reverence, the overpowering, overwhelming affection he stirred in his children's hearts...was expressed in the way they cast down their eyes when he was in the same place as them. The seldom spoke at him, but always listened, rapt, to his words, even though, more often than not, youth, age and irreverent recklessness gave free rein to the dreams and desires of their closest friends.
One of the most beautiful anecdotes my father shared with us, many moons ago, was the time when, having returned late in the evening from a movie he went for, with a friend, my father was told by Ba, my gran, that Bapuji was home,
"બાપુજી આવી ગયા છે..મેં કઈ દીધું છે, અજય ના ઘરે ગયો છે."
(She had told Bapuji, when he inquired, that Dad had gone out to a friend's place.)
 Later, when Bapuji asked Dad where he'd been, he looked into his father's eyes and said" I was out with Ajay, to see a film"... At this, Bapuji looked up at Ba....I can only imagine the pride and happiness he felt for his son then. They briefly conversed about what film that was (a WW-II film, if I recollect, something along the lines of those days' epic sagas from Hollywood) and both father and son shared a deeper understanding of each others' true nature.
There are many more incidents, both big and small, that have shaped the lives and thoughts of my father and mother in their lifetime.
So, you see, this is the kind of value-system I owe my existence to. I'm humbled by their solid morals and take immense pride in this heritage of Truth and Respect...

Who am I and what is the purpose of life?
This is a question we all might sometimes ask ourselves at some point in our lives. I often ask myself..and wonder...
Mystics say it takes us a lifetime (and beyond) to find the answer..

I believe, as surely as I believe in God, that, at the time of birth, each and every child is unaware of "I" and immersed in the fluid, all-pervading Godliness.... of itself. Maybe, that is the reason why all babies, at the time of birh have their eyes tightly shut, clenched fists rigid and unrelenting, as if holding on to Him... Their one-ness from God is reflected in the cry at birth, in the lament of a torturous human existence, as if removed from the embrace of a loving mother...
since I became a mother I marvel at the mechanics of the Universe- all the more mysterious, altogether  more sublime...
Mother-hood and miracles go hand-in-hand. Each new day is different...and yet, the same. In the incessant cycle of life we come, grow, go and leave behind us a legacy of memories, memoirs and mementoes. Every Child is divine, at birth; it is we who make them humans....It is only appropriate that we etrive to impart good values to them, so that they may become better human beings tomorrow...
This life, given us by our parents...Bestowed in grace and a gift, if you will, from God Himself...It is meaningful and useful only if we live up to our essence- divinity, and our extent- humanity...

A Leap of Faith...

As surely as if I had been nudged awake, I wake up and notice that I'd (again) nodded off on the sofa... It seems to have become a regular occurrence, since Mum (in-Law) went to India and I'm in-charge of my days (and nights!). After over two years of doing night shifts, I've hopelessly messed my sleeping pattern. Now, I just get some shut-eye for about three-four hours at a time, and then "..O O.." my peepers just fly open...
"Well today is Saturday, so there's no need to jump into the shower", I reminded myself, for beginning the (school-related) daily dash..


As the birds twitter outside, and the day breaks over the world (well, this part of the world, at-least), all I contemplate is whether to go running or biking, wake up the kids at eight or nine, and whether its better to let them wake up naturally... Idly, I reached out for my Samsung Notebook, which was on power-saving mode, with the favourites still open, earphones still plugged into my ears... I get up, brush my teeth, freshen up and sit down again, nestled comfortably under Raj's favourite downy, fleece white n blue blanket and start reading and writing- preparing to commit to memory the day that was...


It was the culmination of a long two weeks' wait, yesterday. I visited a School which I'm hoping, my daughter will soon join, flourishing in the care she'll receive there. This is not to say that her current School is inadequate;  it is, simply put, time to move on into the best environment for her today. Yes, it is a Special Needs school, and yes, my child, although as yet undiagnosed, is known to have significantly specific difficulties with her Gross and fine Motor Skills, Social Communication, Language (both expressive and receptive, i.e-in terms of speaking and understanding) and Proprioception and Behaviour...


In my understanding of the broad scope of the term ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder), I suspect, as does her paediatrician, (although she's reluctant to put it in as an official diagnosis as yet), that my child is somewhere on the AS. She believes that Shivangi may, in future, present with a Dyslexic profile, and is, at present, struggling with her gross and fine motor skills and bi-lateral coordination (which explains her difficulty in writing, reading, eating etc).To the jargon-proficient this might sound easy enough, yet to those like me who seek to simplify things, especially when they are being used to describing my own child, it is a case of unscrambling the 'lingo' to get to the bottom of the intent. 


I arrived at the school with my children's school SENCO and Family Worker- a dear Lady and a genuinely warm person named Mrs Wendy Austin. The fact that Wendy offered to drive me there with them, instead of me taking a bus route into town and finding my own way to the school, was extremely sweet of her...(particularly because my 'time-window' was too narrow; school starts at 0845 and from the kids' school to the new school, a bus would have taken me atleast an hour....). As we reached the school and disembarked, i looked around the silent, peaceful grounds which were nestled along the edge of a hill. Vast grounds overlooked the valley beyond where the city lay, shrouded in the morning mist. The school was situated on a lovely hill-top with a panoramic view of the whole city below. I  looked around and not only liked what I saw, but also felt a peaceful feeling in my heart, that told me my baby would be really happy if she could play, learn, laugh and explore in this kind of an environment...! We walked in through the quiet reception, and waited to see the Headteacher, who emerged from her office to greet us with a lovely smile. We introduced ourselves and sat down and the SENCO told her about my reason for visiting. she asked me if I wanted to know something about the school, look around and walk through it with her, visiting classes, meeting children and teachers in classrooms and see how I felt?! I nodded, and then I tried to take-in and absorb what the headteacher said about the way the classes were run and the curriculum managed, around the school.


On my tour of the school, It looked truly special, from the relaxed, calm atmosphere, to the masterful works of art displayed on the walls- from a huge canvas- oil paints in all the primary colours splashed across, to mind-blowing effect, (as my 'design-orientated' eyes looked for abstract patterns and shapes) to a masterfully painted 'spider-man' like abstract one, done by a seven year old boy in ten odd minutes (The writing on the mount, in the frame told me as much)...In the small groups of children, in the teachers' interacting with two-three students in groups as they did their lesson-related activities and in the massive grounds, edged by tall trees, overlooking the city below beyond the fence, I could easily picture my child feeling more calm, participating,in, and more importantly, feeling good about the things the other children were doing.


Just as some plants need more attention and care to grow, whilst others thrive with the odd dash from a watering can, and grow like a weed, it is my belief as a mother, that some children need more support than others to realise their potential. These are the children who, by God's will or grace; call it what you will, are differently-able in life... These children are the chosen ones, the one thrown a 'challenge'  by God, to see how the rest of us 'lesser' mortals cope!! As a mother of a child with a difficulty, it is extremely hard to keep things in perspective sometimes. Others can get away with blaming her behaviour on her stubbornness, her naughtiness or her attitude on her behaviour; I can begin to make sense of it and react in the right way only by remembering she is not deliberately doing this...She is trying, her damned best to make head or tail of the world as she sees it. As her mother, I know she mimics speech, copies phrases, imitates reactions and mirrors affection. She smiles; a LOT...! She is affectionate, lovable and very closely connected with her 'emotional' self. She feels remorse, but vents her feelings like a volcano, she feels tidal waves of love and wants to hug us and others, but is sometimes so strong in her holding of people, they feel stifled. Then, their reaction hurts her feelings and she bursts into tears and screams out at us all... she can make me smile, just by virtue of me thinking of her! She can also make people laugh out loud; she has a terrific sense of humour and can even laugh at herself. 



For me, this is a massive Leap of Faith, across the chasm of my near and dear ones' doubts, aspersions, blame and guilt. I tried to reason, resolve and involve them, sharing the reports, the schedule of meetings, Parent Partnership coffee-mornings, appointments and therapy sessions which only I attended with her all these years...When all I got in reply was a "I have to go to work so I can't be with the two of you, but whatever you feel is right is right by me" (hubby) and "you're wrecking your own child's future by your own hands", and "I'll tell her, when she's grown -up, YOUR mum put you through all THIS..." (M-i-L)...I decided, in my heart- NOW I MUST DO... the TIME to THINK is over....My mind made up, I wrote to the relevant department, following my gut, my instinct and my heart, all of them telling me, in unison, to go for it! My letter done, the attachments printed, and the referrals made, I am waiting to hear from the lady whether or not it is going to work out all right. Besides, it has to be His (God's) will, too. 



In my letter, to Mrs. Rosie Newberry, at the Children and Learning Department, I wrote:

                 

Dear Mrs Newberry,


I would like to apply for a place for my child, Shivangi Sarvaiya, aged 7.5yrs at Richmond Hill School, Luton. I took the opportunity to visit the school last month. This visit was facilitated by my daughter’s present school, Chantry Primary School, Luton. The visit was suggested by Ms V Lloyd, of Luton Parent Partnership, as a result of my observation of Shivangi’s behaviour at home and in my interactions with her teachers and T.As, Headteacher and Family Support Team at school. That she is not making progress, academically or otherwise, in the current Mainstream educational Setting, despite her School’s best efforts has been clear to me for some time now. 


Given her level of difficulties, she has had the dedicated 1to1 support in her classes and lessons (as suggested in her Statement of SEN). She also participates in and enjoys the activities and therapy she has been accessing both at school and in the community, such as Occupational Therapy, ‘BRAINBEATS’ Music Programme, PECS etc. However, she is still functioning way below her peer-age level and, as her mother, I suspect this has impacted negatively in her behaviour towards others, be they adults or children. It is a constant source of worry to me, that she should fall so far behind her educational curriculum that it becomes impossible to integrate her into an age-appropriate setting in future. It is with this worry that I have turned to you. I hope that in your experience, knowledge and understanding of children’s needs you may be able to see what I cannot resolve as just a mother and, in your capacity and role with the Department of Children and Learning can help me do the best for my child. 


Shivangi’s special needs have, no doubt, been adequately studied, identified and looked into and given the level of complexity of her needs and her age the Specialists’ Recommendations are being sincerely implemented both at home and school. Her Statement of SEN, states that she has difficulties with her gross and fine motor skills, proprioception, semantic and pragmatic language difficulties, and behavioural problems (mostly seen in her social Interactions) . She also mimics speech, copies peoples’ words or phrases, imitates reactions (if I get upset she gets upset, and if I get angry and reprimand her, she turns back instantly and says it right back to me!) but her biggest ‘gift’ is that she mirrors affection and loves giving hugs. She smiles a lot and talks to anyone she wants to, whether she knows them or not! She makes friends easily as well…


You may know all this from the relevant documentation of the professionals involved, their reports etc and I am probably not telling you anything new in that regard. My sole aim today is to tell you how and why I feel Shivangi would be fortunate to go to Richmond Hill School, come September. As a Special School in the Borough of Luton, it is quite remarkable. Richmond Hill School has a calm and relaxed atmosphere, something that Shivangi needs. I noticed, on my tour of the school, how classes were run, from the specialist resources, to lessons that were tailored specifically to the children’s individual needs. There was ample support from Teachers and T.As in classes with four or five adults and just eight or nine children in the classes. This would be ideal for my child, as she currently has adult support in class on most occasions. The lovely, spacious grounds of the school, with the vegetable garden, play equipment, outdoor activities organized for the children to participate in, all would be something Shivangi would greatly benefit from. I can easily picture my daughter feeling calm and participating in all these activities, and most importantly, feeling good about the things other children were doing, and being able to do them by herself, too.


The Head Teacher at Richmond Hill, Mrs Jill Miller mentioned how the school makes regular trips and visits to bring the children out in varied social settings and activities that familiarize them with the outdoors. The School organizes many trips to various kinds of educational and social settings, so that the children can become more comfortable in noisy, busy places, find their way around with adult guidance and supervision and feel more secure. It resonate with me as I too, try and take her out with me as much as I can, be it to Town, a Park, or simply grocery-shopping with me and each subsequent trip becomes a little more easier as she knows what to expect.


Her school, Chantry Primary School, has soldiered on, since she was in nursery, to provide her with a high level of support and help her with tasks she may find difficult. From things like demonstrating how to do up her coat buttons, or zip up her jumper without getting frustrated, holding a pencil correctly and mark making, to encouraging desirable behaviour by giving her sticker-chart to maintain and an activity of her choice as a reward. All the credit for her progress so far goes to her teachers, T.As, and all the staff who have supported both her and my family at Chantry School. She was always included in activities, lessons and trips, making me grateful, for all that they have done.
I now feel that Shivangi is at the stage in her education where she needs the specialist support that would be available at a special school as the gap between her and her peers in a mainstream school setting, widens.  I feel that Shivangi would benefit greatly from attending a Specialist Educational Setting such as Richmond Hill School. I, therefore, would request you to consider this the heartfelt application from a parent wth a young child, who is following her instincts, her heart and puts her faith in you. My husband and I, both, await your response.


Yours sincerely,


Mrs Ruchita Sarvaiya.