I have to admit, I have led a very charmed existence this first year, in that I have had tons of help in raising Gauri. I do not need to shower while having her perched in her rocker four feet away, the way I know many new moms have to do it, because there are always multiple somebodies available to take care of her. I can go out for adult meals when I want, though it is pretty darned rare. I can even take in a movie every now and then. I do not have to gobble down my food while keeping an eye on her.
And the best of all, as I weathered a monster storm of tooth eruption combined with her first infection (a relatively mild respiratory tract infection that felled everybody in our family) combined with a maid with very poor decision making skills who came to work with conjunctivitis and promptly gave it to her, I had tons of help.
As she woke up screaming 4 times a night because she could not breathe because her nose was blocked, or when she coughed so hard she threw up, I had help.
My dad and my mom (especially my dad) have been my rocks through this. My dad would insist on staying up through the night to help me with her, so I could get sleep. The night that I weathered the worst of the infection myself, my brothers took care of her so I could get sleep.
I would never dream of talking about all this because I know how rare this setup and such help is, but I am now, because in about 7-8 months time, I probably will leave it all behind to move to the US with Gauri by myself, and take care of her by myself. Most things I am okay with, but what scares me, as it should, is dealing with illness alone. People may think I am actually nuts to leave this behind to manage by myself, but I have my reasons.
Does year 2 get easier than year 1? I hope so, though I know each time comes with its own issues.
But I am so relieved: she has been out of sorts for two whole weeks, and it was such bliss to see my happy baby back again, as opposed to one that burst into tears once an hour.
Action also needs to be initiated on the discipline front. This is a child surrounded by too many people who act like she is the sun, moon, and the stars. Plus she is a naturally strong willed child with signs of a temper she has come by honestly. While there is no overt indulging happening, such children possibly become subliminally more aware of the power they wield, and like little dictators, take shameless advantage. In that way, our move to America, while traumatic, may be good in a way. All in all, I'm really going to have to bring my A-game in this department. Wish me luck, people. I have managed the first crucial bit: she is utterly connected to and trusts me and the grandparents. The next part is using this trust and connection for discipline, and I *ulp* when I think of that.
On the progress front, unintelligible, too cute words are coming out constantly from that mouth, and it is funny to see myself follow her around, ears straining, trying to figure out if her first word is actually nestled within streams of baby babble. Atto Atto toi toi toi whaaaaaaaaa? Fun times, but also a bit poignant because each phase is gone before you know it, never to repeat again, unless you plan to have many kids, which I do not.
Btw, a blogpost is up on the science blog: it is about Omega 3 fatty acids and that holy grail of topics, baby sleep. Here is the link.