My heart in his hands

I lay in bed, next to my son and I can't believe how little he is. Yes, little. I see it differently this time. His lil fingers fit in the palm of my hands. He's so little. A day will come when his hands are large enough that my hands now fit in them. It's crazy - we give birth to these tiny, beautiful, delicate creatures and they grow and grow and grow. They get more beautiful in the process and we have amazing memories with them along the way. But we can't help to miss them when they were so little.

Ramadan is upon us...

As my brother said, “and so it begins…” The blessed month of Ramadan is once again upon us. 

For those that may not know…

Ramadan is the ninth month of the Islamic lunar calendar. Every day during this month, Muslims around the world spend the daylight hours in a complete fast.

During the blessed month of Ramadan, Muslims all over the world abstain from food, drink, and other physical needs during the daylight hours. As a time to purify the soul, refocus attention on God, and practice self-sacrifice, Ramadan is much more than just not eating and drinking.

Muslims are called upon to use this month to re-evaluate their lives in light of Islamic guidance. We are to make peace with those who have wronged us, strengthen ties with family and friends, do away with bad habits -- essentially to clean up our lives, our thoughts, and our feelings. The Arabic word for "fasting" (sawm) literally means "to refrain" - and it means not only refraining from food and drink, but from evil actions, thoughts, and words.

During Ramadan, every part of the body must be restrained. The tongue must be restrained from backbiting and gossip. The eyes must restrain themselves from looking at unlawful things. The hand must not touch or take anything that does not belong to it. The ears must refrain from listening to idle talk or obscene words. The feet must refrain from going to sinful places. In such a way, every part of the body observes the fast.

Therefore, fasting is not merely physical, but is rather the total commitment of the person's body and soul to the spirit of the fast. Ramadan is a time to practice self-restraint; a time to cleanse the body and soul from impurities and re-focus one's self on the worship of God.

As an individual, Ramadan can be very difficult, especially in everyday life - to not think badly of some, to “bite your tongue,” to refrain.  I will try, as I do each year. I can’t say I will for sure keep all 30 days of fasting, but I will surely try.  I find the most difficult aspect of Ramadan having to refrain from water. I drink a lot of water in a day and this, as always, will be the hardest part of my roza (fasting).  But for me, Ramadan is a way to refocus with each year, to give thanks for all that Allah (swt) has bestowed upon me and my family and to be a good person.  That’s all I can do. So I shall embark on this year’s holy month of Ramadan with good tidings. 

I wish all my Muslim brothers and sisters the same. Ramadan Mubarak!

"Oh shit!"

Apparently, my son's first words have gone from "Ma-ma" and "Da-da" to "oh shit!" (0.o)

I couldn't help but laugh when I first heard it but soon realized laughing only reinforces the behavior. So any laughter after that point had to be shielded. It just is so hard not to laugh, he's 14 months old, he can barely speak (minus a ton of baby babble) and yet he clearly says "oh shit!" Even crazier is that he knows exactly when to use it contextually. He drops something - "oh shit!" He trips or falls - "oh shit!" Sometimes it's just "shit shit shit!" lol! Sigh.

It's so hard as a parent to shield your child, not only from others mouths but your own. I cursed pretty often prior to becoming a mother. I've cut back a lot but definitely slip up here and there. After disciplining Elijah after the first dozen times he said it, I felt bad. Its not his fault. Babies/toddlers truly are sponges.

I heard ignoring it would help stop it but I was drawn to replacing the word with something that sounds similar but isn't a curse word, like "oh sugar." The idea is to repeat the new word/phrase every single time they say the one you don't want them to. Eventually, they will start repeating the new word they hear you say so often. We started "oh sugar" yesterday and will keep at it. Apparently, patience is key as it can take weeks to pick up the new word. Unsurprisingly, Elijah already is starting to pick up on the new phrase "oh sugar" after just a day. He said "oh sugar" once so far when he would usually say "oh shit." So we'll keep at it and hopefully "oh shit" will be soon forgotten.

Either way, it provided hours of smiles and laughter this weekend! Kids truly say the darnedest things!

Any parents go through something similar?

Camping with a toddler

To say I'm excited for our annual camping trip this year would be an understatement. I am beyond excited because this will be Elijah's first camping experience!

Eju LOVES the outdoors. As soon as the door from our house opens, any door, he darts for it. Kind of scary as its a reminder that we must keep an eye on him at all times.

He is an adventurous kid, for sure.

To prepare to go camping with a toddler, we bought a ton of things and I decided to share my checklist with others who may need an easy go-to reference.

Here is my list of essentials:

1. All of the basic camping gear: tent, sleeping bags, blankets, pillows, raft etc.
2. First aid kit: you never know when you or your child will need a bandaid, alcohol wipes, get a headache or need any other first aid items. In addition to what comes with a first aid kit, I also packed infant ibuprofen, and Desitin (for diaper rashes).
3. Infant lifejacket. We always camp around water and I am a safety nut with my child. A lifejacket is a must!
4. In addition to our regular tent, we packed a canopy for the common/eating area and a "Shady Shack" (beach tent). Beaches, whether on a lake, river or ocean front, tend to lack in shade. Shade is so important for hot summer days, especially for young children.
5. Beach blanket. Made from a more durable material, it will keep our booties from burning on the hot sand.
6. Don't forget sunblock! I wear sunblock daily so packing it for our camping trip was routine. I did; however, make sure to buy a waterproof infant sunblock for Eju.
7. Bug spray. Adult spray and an infant bug spray for Eju. "Deets" infant bug spray is made with no harsh chemicals and supposed to be less toxic for their thin skin.
8. Lots of food and snacks. Being outdoors, active and especially in water can make you extra hungry. I packed good foods, healthy snacks and even a lil junk food (hey, it's vacation)!
9. Water. Lots of it.
10. Toilet paper, lots of diapers (DON'T FORGET WATER DIAPERS), towels, sanitizer, anti-bac wipes... Stay clean when possible!

These are just some of the essential items we are taking with us. Going in our group on our annual camping trip is so much fun! We have an amazing group of friends and we all pitch in and share what we bring.

Some of the others are bringing a stove, cooking utensils, music player, games, canopies, and other things to share :)

I'll post pix after our trip. Here is one of Eju in his lifejacket (I couldn't get him to stand still) and one of him chillin' in his camping chair :)

My American Dream

I wanted to write this yesterday, but I truly had no time to get in front of a computer. So here goes...

In honor of America’s Independence Day yesterday, I had an itch to write about the American Dream. My American Dream specifically, which began before I was born, over 5,000 miles away…

I was born in Lautoka, Fiji Islands in 1981. I lived there until I was four years old when my parents migrated to the United States. Many people tell me they think we, or Fijian immigrants in general, are nuts for leaving a tropical paradise for the U.S. Why would anyone leave clear water beaches and all the lush beauty which is found in Fiji? Simple, it isn’t what it appears to be. Yes, Fiji is beautiful. Yes, if you travel there, as a tourist, you will be astonished by the breathtaking sandy beaches, five star resorts, sparkling clear waters, and the amazing hospitality by the Fijian people. But as a resident, life isn’t a five star hotel.  Fiji is a third world country.  The population nears 900,000 and as you can imagine, the poverty rate for a third world country is quite high. Native Fijians make up 50% of the population while Indo-Fijians (like myself) make up 47% of the population.  Around 1870, Indians were brought to Fiji through British colonization as indentured servants to work the sugarcane fields.  After approximately 96 years of indentured servitude, Fiji gained its independence from Great Britain – but any indentured servants were told they could find their own way back home to India. As you can imagine, that was impossible and there began a long lineage of Indian heritage in Fiji.  For most people, home is where the heart is, but sometimes your heart wants more. The average life expectancy in Fiji is 67 years of age and opportunities for higher education, higher paying and higher level jobs as well as home ownership are few and far between.  Most people can’t afford to attend grade school let alone attain a college education when they must support a family – sometimes multiple families. 

My parents came from humble beginnings. My father was the third born of eight children to a college professor/educator and a stay-at-home mother.  Although my grandfather (father’s side) was an educator, he was the only breadwinner of a large family.  They struggled daily.  I remember my father telling me stories of how excited they (he and his siblings) would be when they had the opportunity to buy a chocolate bar. ONE chocolate bar – they would cut it into equal pieces so everyone could have a taste. My mother was second born of five children.  My nana and nani (mother’s parents) were both educated and had good jobs.  They were both well respected and prominent individuals in the community. My nani was an English professor, and a social activist who often fought for women’s rights.  She formed and led a women’s group called the Jaanana League – a group of Muslim women serving the Fijian community.  Her drive to help those in need was awarded by the Queen of England while Fiji was still under British rule.  She had the privilege to have tea with the Queen and was damed for her commitment to the community she served.  In the Indian culture specifically, sons are always looked at as the pseudo leaders of the household – providers and the support system to all the females in the family. My mom’s eldest brother would have been that person.  He died when he was only 14 years old. As he was walking home in a torrential downpour, he caught what everyone thought was a cold. It wasn’t. Pneumonia filled his lungs and he died only a few short days later. My mother stepped up to the plate, often working long hours, having little time for fun while helping put her younger siblings through school, including one attending university in India and putting herself through college in Australia. Through the struggles, there were always great times; trips to the beach, a lot of laughter and many family gatherings. Everyone lived just down the street and everyone knew each other. It was a simpler time. No ipads, iPhones, computers, and a TV could only be found on average in one in every ten households. Life was hard, but it was good. 

Once my parents met, married and had three children (my two older brothers and I), they knew they wanted more opportunities for themselves and their children. Especially the opportunity for choices.  They were doing well for themselves in Fiji and had we stayed, we would have been financially secure.  My father was the equivalent to a super-intendant of a school district here.  In Fiji, that's like being President/CEO of a major corporation. In Fiji, educators are far more respected than in the U.S.  He made good money and was highly respected in the community. His struggles were not as his fathers were.  My mother worked at a bank – which was considered a very good job.  She also made good money and both of them were able to own a home in Fiji – something that was very difficult for the majority of the population.  We had a nanny that helped out while my parents worked; we had decent clothing, plenty of food, toys and entertainment.  But again, my parents wanted the chance for more, for their children.  Number one on that list of needing more was that all three of us attend and graduate from college.  They wanted their only daughter to have opportunities other than working at a bank or being a secretary – anything else was pretty rare for a woman in Fiji.  A few years after I was born my parents migrated to the U.S.  They set out for the American Dream and they struggled quite a bit.  Their cushy lifestyle in Fiji working good paying highly respected jobs, owning a large and beautiful home, ended.  My father’s college education, which he obtained at the University of Auckland in New Zealand, didn’t meet the standards for American education, leaving him essentially as a non-college graduate here. He did whatever he could to make ends meet, working as a gas station clerk, a janitor and taking night classes to get his degree and certification to make his Engineering degree legitimate to American educational standards.  My mother continued her work at banks in the U.S., but quickly realized working in a bank here, amongst twenty-something year olds, did not have the same element of prestige (or the paycheck) as it did in Fiji.  They struggled for many years as we moved up and down the West Coast from Fremont to Los Angeles to Seattle, back to Fremont and then finally settling in Sacramento.  Things were finally taking a turn. My dad was able to get his degree and a great job as an Engineer for the City of Sacramento where he has remained to this day.  My parents purchased their first home in the U.S. in the 1990s and it became my childhood home where I have many fond memories.  They saved every penny they could through the many years so that they could eventually settle down in a home which was quite an exciting feat after juggling through various apartments through the years. 

As I grew up, I witnessed and greatly respected my parents drive to succeed and the enormous sacrifices they made for their children. They left a home, where they worked in high level positions, were well respected and known in the community, to make ends meet and struggle for several years.  They did this for us. For us to be able to go to college, to have opportunities and a choice to have the future we wanted.  They didn’t want us to be limited in our potential. Yet through their struggles, they still gave back to their community.  Through the Mosques we attended, my parents were always donating money to the needy, and even the clothes off their backs. They taught us the importance of saving, saving and saving – but also, giving. I’ve kept that close to my heart over the years.  I knew I had to go to college, it wasn’t an option. Not just for my parents and their sacrifices, but because I had an urge to learn and make a difference in this world.  It came with its share of sacrifices and struggles.  I had to take out school loans and pay for my education myself. My parents were able to help with costs of living here and there - they bought me groceries I'd trek back to SF State, I'd do my laundry in Sacramento, they'd give me money for this and that but the majority of the financial load to get my education fell on my shoulders, same with my brothers – they simply couldn’t afford to put three children through college after migrating to the U.S.   And it was hard. Although I definitely had have fun while in college, and met the most amazing people, I envied my friends that could go home and study for hours on end or hang out on their free time, whereas I had to work full-time, sometimes late nights, so I could pay for rent and the costs of school.  Studying sometimes had to happen late at night which made for a very tired Naz come the next day. But I did it.  And so began my American Dream, firstly with getting my college education.  

My parents achieved their American Dream, giving their children the opportunity to attend college and owning their home(s).  They didn’t take handouts, didn’t use government assistance and they worked incredibly hard.  That being said, they never forgot the importance of social activism, helping those who were needy and making a difference.  Growing up underprivileged, seeing so many men, women and children in Fiji without shoes, living in tin houses, begging for food and water, taught them this.  They in turn taught us the importance of caring not only for yourself, your family and your home, but for the greater good of all people.  This is what I hope to teach my son – and any future children Avin and I have.  I want Elijah to know that yes, hard work is key, education is crucial and family is your backbone, but the true “American Dream” entails never forgetting that life is about much more than you – life is loving yourself and your neighbor. You never turn your back on someone that needs help. You never forget to be thankful for all that Allah (God) has given you, and at the same time, never treat those who have less than you as if they are less than you. Never treat those that believe differently than you as if their beliefs are irrelevant. 

I can’t begin to explain how important it is to me that Elijah knows where he came from, as he is a first generation American.  He will have opportunities my grandparents never imagined, opportunities that were limited for my parents, some of which were not quite in my grasp but that are fully attainable for him.  I want him to know that we come for a lineage of indentured servitude, that his great grandparents, grandparents and parents struggled to give him the opportunity for more than they could dream of. I want him to know that Avin and I purchased our first home right before he was born because we wanted him to know the feeling we didn’t until we were much older, how amazing it is to come home to a house and not a small apartment. I want him to know the importance of education, family and hard work. But I never want him to lose himself in a country that has become innately selfish.  I want him to know that life should be better and richer and fuller for everyone, with opportunities for all people to move forward regardless of social class or circumstances of birth and that we need to pick each other up instead of knocking each other out of the way as we get to the finish line.

It isn’t just about us. It isn’t just about what we work hard for, what we’ve attained, but what we GIVE to others.  Through service, assistance and a big heart, I want him to grow to be a great PERSON.  Only then will he truly be wealthy and successful.

This is my American Dream.

Working out, while they sleep

This weekend we invested in a treadmill. Something I've wanted for sometime now and finally was able to get one. It has already simplified my morning routine. For one, I no longer need to set my alarm for 4am to be up by 4:30am (snooze button) and out of the house by 4:50am to drive to the gym and work out from 5-6am and then drive back home. Today, I set my alarm for 4:55am, woke up, brushed my teeth, threw on some workout clothes, my hair in a scrunchie and walked right into my living room for an hour cardio session. It was so much easier. I got in a great sweaty workout all while the boys slept in the bedroom.

I'm looking forward to some positive changes in my weight, finally losing the last of this pregnancy weight and much more! Can't wait to see the changes take effect. With my healthy nutrition, 5 day workouts (which again is so much more simple now) and consistency, I hope to stay on track. Wish me luck!

Get pregnant at 25 if you want a high-powered career? ie: be successful. Bullshit!

Penelope Trunk recently wrote a blog post where she outlines how young women can be successful in having a high-powered career:

1) get married by 20-25 years of age
2) education isn't key
3) find a husband, this is key (oh wait, I said that already)
4) have kids
5) get an education after, if you want
6) establish your career.

I don't believe there is a right or wrong answer. I believe it's a choice and what works for one woman may not work for another. What I do have an issue with is Trunk putting women into a box and if they don't follow the order of events as she states them to be correct, success is far from reach. That's bullshit. Point blank.

Read Trunk's Blog Post Here

Then read my thoughts on her post...

I literally almost vomited in my mouth. I respect a woman’s choice to get married in her early twenties and have babies by or around age 25, but this blogger totally put women into a BOX and if you’re not in that box, you’re basically not going to succeed – that was the jest of the blog article. It made me insanely irritated. She blatantly tells Generation Z to spend the years from 20-25 focused on getting married and furthermore states that “there is no evidence that doing well in school during that period of your life will get you worthwhile benefits.” WTF?!?!?!? Get married = success. Getting an education = not worth the trouble? Really? That’s what we want to teach young women these days? I want to slap this woman across the face! Yes, I am a feminist in every sense of the word. No that doesn’t mean I’m a lesbian or anti-men. It doesn’t mean I’m anti anything in fact. It means that I believe strongly that men and women are equally and should be treated as such. This article basically tells women that for them to be successful they A) must get married (because being a single mother = being unsucessful) B) should make sure they get married in their early twenties C) shouldn't focus on getting an education first because it doesn’t help D) then focus on your career.

I mean really?!??!! I have NO problem with someone getting married early, having children early, getting their education last (or not getting one at all) and then establishing a career. I have NO problem with that let me reiterate that again. What I have a problem with is this WOMAN telling other women that if they don’t do those things, in that order they won’t be successful? What a load of crap. There may be evidence that “women who have kids earlier have healthier kids” and evidence that “women who have grown children by age 45 do better at getting to the top of the workforce” but there is also of the contrary as it pertains to sucessfull women. Perhaps they weren’t CEO’s of major corporations, but how many women in our lives are?

My grandmother has always been my inspiration. Growing up in a third world country, she got her college education, was a social activist, and started her teaching career before getting married and having children. Once she did get married and had 4 children, my grandfather and she travelled the world together, literally, she still was an amazing mother, worked hard, and was successful. She may not have become the President of Fiji, but she was an inspiration, God rest her soul.

And Penelope Trunk can shove that in her box.

Biblical Hypocrisy – Abortion is a sin. Homosexuality is a sin. So is90% of what you’re doing.

I have a real issue with Biblical hypocrisy.  I have encountered many people who very strongly believe marriage should only be between a man and a woman. The bible says so, they say. These same people are often pro-life – abortion is a sin they say, the bible says so. Ironically, premarital sex is a sin, is it not? Having children out of wedlock is a sin, is it not? Why is it that so many religious Christians seem to apply the rules to their lives that only doctrine their own agendas. If you’re pregnant before getting married, well having an abortion is a sin and you’d NEVER do that – really? Maybe you should’ve considered that before you had premarital sex, since that is a sin also, according to the Bible. Or perhaps you shouldn't have conceived out of wedlock, that is also a sin you know? Are some sins less sinful than others? I don’t remember reading that in the Bible?

I am Muslim. But at no time do I claim to be a religious person. The Quran states many sins and has an abundance of “rules” similar to the Bible. I choose to apply religion in my life as a guide in making decisions. Religion guides me, it doesn’t rule me.That’s my own personal philosophy. Many Muslims will shun my philosophy and that's okay with me. Because we will all meet our maker one day and that's who I will have to answer to. That being said, no matter what “rules” I find silly, what rules I hold true and what I may believe don’t apply to my life, I would NEVER try to govern what does or doesn’t work for me to the general population, like many fanatical religious Christians are trying to do. If it doesn’t work for you and your lifestyle, GREAT, don’t live by it – but STOP trying to force the rest of us to live by your own beliefs! If you’re pro-life, GREAT – don’t have premarital sex, don't get pregnant out of wedlock and don’t have an abortion - follow the guidelines that work for you. But pro-choice is a CHOICE. It’s not pro-abortion; it’s the ability to make the decision yourself as a sound minded individual! Same goes with marriage. You don’t believe marriage should be between anyone other than a man and woman – GREAT; don’t marry someone of the same gender! Why stop the rest of the world from making decisions that doctrine their personal beliefs?!?! The hypocrisy is disgusting. I know many religious Christians who are pro-life and against marriage in homosexual relationships, yet they prance around in bikinis – bodies exposed for the entire world to see. That, my bible thumping friends, is a sin. Exposing your body in a bikini is not following the teachings of the Bible. That is hypocrisy. I read something amazing recently. It nailed it!

So homosexuality isa sin… Abortion is a sin…So is not treating your body like a temple. Ladies should have their head covered (ironically so many religious Christians shun Muslims who choose to cover their head). In Deuteronomy, marriage is only valid if the woman is a virgin, and she should be executed if she is not.  Anyone who commits adultery should be stoned to death.  In Mark, divorce is prohibited.  I assume for homosexuality, you’re referring to Leviticus 18:6: “You shall not lie with a male as one lies with a female. It is an abomination.” A similar verse occurs two chapters later in Leviticus20:13: “A man who sleeps with another man is an abomination and should be executed.”  Leviticus is a holiness code written 3,000 years ago. It also includes prohibitions against round haircuts, tattoos, working on the day of the Sabbath, wearing garments of mixed fabrics, eating pork or shellfish, getting your fortune told, and even playing with the skin of a pig (there goes football)! I strongly believe in morality, which is doing right regardless of what I am told, not in religion, which is doing what I am told regardless of what is right. You’re welcome to your own interpretation of the Bible and of politics, of course, but for me, I need more than “the Bible says so” to justify certain things in this world and certainly to judge them.

Amen to that.

Reflections

I've never been a religious person. The word "religious" kind of scares me. But I am Muslim - and proud. Lately, I've realized that I've asked a lot from God, but I haven't given much in return. I haven't prayed, meditated or really reflected in a long time. I don't think it's fair for me to ask so much from God but barely even speak to Him. As a woman and mother, I have so much to be thankful for. But I haven't given thanks in awhile. We have so long to go to meet our goals as a stable and successful family, and I have no doubt that we will get there. Life is hard, but it's also rewarding. I know that I need to focus on me and my goals, especially around my fitness goals. I get going and do great for a few weeks and then something (like food poisoning) or maybe nothing at all, knocks me off my feet and I have the hardest time getting back on track. It's a never ending story that I want to end. I know what I need to do to get where I want to be, but I have the hardest time being consistent. And of course, consistency is key. I need to get my mojo back and be better about holding onto it.

First things first, I need to set realistic goals:

1. Pray more often. I need to meditate. and pray more often. When I do, I feel inner peace.

2. Eat better. We don't have a lot of bad foods in our house (except for now when we have some junk lying around from Eju's birthday extravaganzas). More veggies, fruits, lean proteins. Less carbs and no junk food. I want to prepare 3-4 dinners ahead of time by making enough chicken breast on Sundays to last me a few days. That way, I can come home, heat a piece of already cooked chicken breast, stir up some veggies, and eat a decent meal before 7pm. This is BIG as I can be bad about eating later than I want to.

3. Work on my fitness regime. I must be consistent about working out at least 5 days a week. This means back to 5am workouts. This is when I'm most consistent. I can't come home too tired to work out. I can't be too exhausted to work out after making dinner, feeding, bathing and playing with Elijah. It has to be done and it has to be done early. I also want to preform 3 days of my tone-it-up videos and 1-2 days of something fun outside, like running around the park with Elijah.

4. Drink more water. No excuses. Just do it.

5. Get back to sleeping early. I need to be in bed by 10pm again. It was a routine I couldn't avoid because after waking up early and being in the go, go, go, I'd be pooped by 10pm. Lately, I've been wide awake until 12ish watching reruns on tv. Not good.

Happy birthday son

One year ago, after 72 hours of grueling labor which included two hours of delivery, my son Elijah came into this world.

They say that mothers tend to forget their birthing experience as a natural way for us to be able to want to conceive again. I mean, how many people want to go through that kind of excruciating pain again? You have to be crazy right? Pretty much. So they say moms forget the pain and only remember the joy they felt first seeing their child. Umm… that’s bullshit. At least for me. I remember a good 90% of my experience and I plan on letting Elijah know one day. Ha!

I was taken into the hospital on a Friday afternoon after eating sushi for lunch (don’t worry, it wasn’t the raw stuff). I was craving sushi so we ate at a local fav spot. Not too long after, it appeared that my water broke, in the restaurant. Embarrassing to say the least. Thankfully, no one noticed (it was mid-day and not very many people were there) and my husband cleaned up the mess before anyone could. I didn’t feel anything though. I didn’t feel the things you see in the movies. To be honest, I thought I just pee’d. We called labor and delivery and were told to come in right away. We took our time. We went home, I showered, called my mom and doula/friend, Avin finished putting together my rocking chair, we ate again, grabbed our bags and headed out, two-four hours later. I still didn't feel anything and figured I'd be sent back home.

Once taken to the hospital, I was told my water did NOT break and it was just “fluid” – it wasn’t pee, but it also wasn’t my amniotic sac. Weird, I know. Doctors and nurses checked me out to make sure everything was okay (fearing something may have ruptured and of course they didn’t want me to get any sort of infection). They drew my blood and checked my cervix. Elijah was NOT ready to come out. I was 37 ½ weeks along and wasn't dilated at all. Technically my due date was still a couple weeks away. Unfortunately, that didn’t matter. During all the checks, it was determined I had developed preeclampsia. Dun dun daaaaah! Preeclampsia is a condition that typically starts after the 20th week of pregnancy and is related to increased blood pressure and protein in the mother's urine. Preeclampsia affects the placenta, and it can affect the mother's kidney, liver, and brain. When preeclampsia causes seizures, the condition is known as eclampsia, the second leading cause of maternal death in the U.S. Preeclampsia is also a leading cause of fetal complications, which include low birth weight, premature birth, and stillbirth. There is no proven way to prevent preeclampsia. Most women who develop signs of preeclampsia, however, are closely monitored to lessen or avoid related problems. I had no signs previously. The ONLY way to "cure" preeclampsia is to deliver the baby.

Sigh. I was devastated. I had a routine doctor’s appointment only two days earlier and did NOT have preeclampsia. I was told it can develop overnight and there wasn’t anything I could do to prevent it. I was eating well, I did gain a lot of weight, but at the same time, it seriously came on overnight. Because of all the risks to me (stroke being number one) and subsequently to my baby, the only thing for them to do was induce me and get baby out. So there began a long and grueling process. Induction sucks. You’re literally forcing the process of labor and delivery when you are not ready and your baby is definitely not ready to come out. It’s slow, aggravating and tiresome. I was admitted a few hours later and the induction process began. Thankfully, I had a doula – Sarah. Sarah is a god send and I cannot imagine what it would have been like without her. As soon as I was admitted, Sarah showed up and stayed with me the entire time, for three whole days. Mind you, Sarah was in her first trimester with her second child. She still stayed with me. I was terrified and thankfully, Sarah was right by my side, so was my husband and mom. Initially I had planned on trying to have a natural birthing process so you can imagine how heartbroken I was. I not only was induced, I was basically forced into having an epidural. Apparently, I didn’t know this before, but an epidural doesn’t only alleviate some pain, but it helps dilate you. Which I desperately needed – because as luck would have it, Elijah really didn’t want to come out and after 48+ hours of laboring, I had barely dilated to 3 cms. Saturday passed, so did Sunday. Early afternoon on Monday, May 23, 2011, I was given an epidural, and within a couple of hours I was fully dilated to 10 cms. I will never forget that feeling that you seriously cannot stop – I needed to push. I had to push. I was ready to go. And I remember telling everyone around me, “He’s coming, I can’t stop this, I have to push, right now!” And so I did… for 2 hours. The first few pushes felt fine. I wasn’t in any pain. I remember thinking “this is actually kind of easy?” – Boy did I have it coming. Because even with an epidural, those last few pushes were anything BUT easy. I remember the distress call over the loud speaker as Elijah’s breathing became weak. He was doing this turtle action of popping his head out a little and then going back in, over and over again. So the doctor tried a vacuum aspiration which didn’t work. And then I was told “you need to push, very, very, very hard.” After cursing really loudly, I did just that. And the doctor reached inside of me and yanked him out, literally. I remember feeling my body rip open as I pushed out his shoulders and head, with the assistance of my doctor. The amount of pressure and relief was overwhelming. But I was incredibly weak. I lost over 2 pints of blood. I almost passed out and I didn’t hear my baby cry. The doctor fulfilled my wish and I was granted the first touch. After pulling Elijah out, he was plopped onto my chest. And I began to cry. Five seconds later, they took him to a table nearby. My heart sank. I didn’t hear him cry. He was blue. He wasn’t breathing well and I began to panic. I remember saying over and over again, “give me my baby, what’s wrong with my baby, tell me what’s going on.” Finally, the doctor got very close to my face and said “your son isn’t breathing well, but he will be okay.” And she went back to him, with about 20 other medical professionals in the room. CPR was initiated and his airway was cleared. I heard a loud cry. And I also began to loudly cry. So did everyone else, Avin, my mom and probably Sarah too. Sarah took his first picture because my mom and Avin were in shock and didn’t leave my side. Avin never let go of my hand. I told Sarah, while crying, “Please tell me the truth, don’t lie to me, is he okay?” She looked at me dead in the eyes and said “I promise I’m not lying to you, Elijah is beautiful and he is okay.” She was right. He was okay. He was healthy and beautiful.

Elijah Ali Prasad was born at 6:06pm on May 23, 2011 weighing in at 8 lbs., 6 oz.’s and 21 inches long. He was born on our second wedding anniversary. He was the best present I could have ever been given. Thank you God.

After cleaning him up, he was returned to my arms, where he stayed for over an hour. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. I remember Avin crying tears of joy and telling me how proud he was of me. We had our son. And he was perfect.

So much has happened since Elijah was born. He has brought an enormous amount of joy in our lives. As much as I love my husband, the love a mother has for their child supersedes everything else. I gave this little person life. I felt him kicking inside of me. I used to put speakers up to my belly so he could dance and kick inside me. Ironically, one year later, he still LOVES to dance. I like to think my playing music for him daily while he was in my belly had something to do with that. ;)

Life has dramatically changed. Nothing is more important than our son. No one is more important than our son. And it’s the strangest feeling to forget what life was like without him, because life would be nothing without him. He is so much of who I am and everything I do is for him, in some way, shape or form.

Motherhood has changed my life. This past year has been one of the best. From the first time he grabbed my hand, to his first roll-over, his first time crawling, that iconic first step, the way he babbles “da-da” and ”ama" (mom). Everything. It has been simply amazing.

To commemorate his first year of life, we celebrate Eju all week long. On his actual birthday we had family over for cake. Elijah freely smashed his cake and enjoyed every minute of it. We threw two parties for Elijah. Avin and I are not very formal people, so having a typical function in a hall or restaurant, as nice as it may be, isn’t our style. We wanted to do something more casual and fitting to our lifestyle. And so we did. The first party we threw was a kid’s party with a Sesame Street theme. We had tons of great food and treats, the décor was adorable (everything matched the Sesame Street theme), we had a bounce house, a snow cone and cotton candy machine and a guest appearance from Elmo. Our great family and friends came and everyone had a blast! On day two, we had a traditional Fijian “lovo” (luau) and were able to host it in our newly made over tropically landscaped backyard. Close family and friends came and we shared another great day to celebrate Elijah’s birthday AND our three year wedding anniversary.

I can't wait for everything that comes with parenthood. It's sad to see this year gone so fast, but I'm so happy my son is healthy and happy. And I can't wait to grow old with my family.

Happy birthday son. Ama loves you more than life itself!

Here are a few pictures from the festivities (definitely more to come)…