Seven Years Ago

I remember the day as if it were yesterday.  Saturday, September 6th, 2003.

I remember waking up thinking, "This is it!"  All of us had waited almost nine months for this day that was finally here.  You were due in five days, but I somehow knew you would be born that day.  I turned my cellphone on.  Sure enough, there was a voice mail from your Ammachi, (My Mom).  Your mother was being taken to the hospital because you couldn't wait any longer to be born.  I quickly showered, threw on some clothes and headed to Evergreen Hospital in Kirkland.  When I got there, my aunt Shanti and uncle Rajan were already in the waiting room.  They told me that your Mom and Dad were in the delivery room.  We sat around for a while, talking while we waited.  Then we saw the hospital staff wheeling a bed into the room that was supposed to be your Mom's.  I continued to look past the hospital staff.  Then I saw my aunt Prema turn the corner and head toward us.  She was walking with my brother, your Dad Jonathan, who had a little bundle in his arms.  

About 30 minutes old

I walked up to Jonathan and hugged him congratulations.  I then looked into the bundle and saw a little scrunched up, newborn face.  There you were, my precious little nephew.  Eyes shut tight, squirming.  I saw the look of pride on your Daddy's face, as I took a picture of his little baby.  You were so beautiful! You began to whimper loudly.  Then you stopped and started again, almost as if you were surprised that you were able to hear the sound you were making.  I don't remember the exact sequence of events, but at some point your Ammachi showed up and so did my cousin Suganthi.  Everyone came into the room and we passed you around, ooh-ing and ahh-ing and cooing while we gently talked to you.  Someone came in and measured the circumference of your head, the size of your feet, your length and your weight.  Someone else came in to give you a bath.  I remember you making another sound of surprise when you were dunked into the warm water.  You really seemed to enjoy your bath.  It must have been so soothing and such a comfort in this strange world you came into, where everyone was passing you around and looking into your face as they talked to you in weird voices.  

3 months

I couldn't stop looking at this little miracle that was you.  You  were so small, but so alive, moving around, lifting your hands, separating your fingers.  At some point I gathered up enough courage to pick you up, this fragile little human being that you were.  I looked at you and distant memories from back in my early life came to me in a haze.  I was about three and a half years old when your Dad Jonathan was born, but I vaguely remember that day.  I remember looking at my baby brother.  I remember how red his face became as he cried.   Now I was looking at my baby brother, all grown up, holding his little son.  Life had now come full circle.  How wonderful it was that all of us were at the hospital for such a happy event!  I think that was your plan all along, to be born on a Saturday, because you wanted to make it convenient for everyone to attend your grand debut! 

6 months old, in Las Vegas

I visited you every day the first two weeks of your life, so I could bring some reprieve to your tired parents and grandmother.  All you did was pretty much eat, sleep and cry.  You had very severe colic and used to be in a lot of pain.  You'd double up from the pain in your stomach and scream out loud.  It used to make us all feel so helpless that there was nothing we could do to make you feel better.  As the days wore on, things got easier.  But every time I visited you, you didn't remember me.  You would cry every time you saw me.  Just when we managed to bond it was time for me to go home.  That was okay though, because I knew at some point we wouldn't have to do this anymore because you would remember who I was and everything would be fine.  Sure enough, when you were around six months, you didn't cry when you saw me, and you seemed to remember who I was.  To my surprise, you actually began to look forward to weekends and spending time with me.  At some point you began to express your love for me by grabbing a fistful of my long hair and tugging at it.  As you grew, you gave up the hair-pulling and you would hug my head and kiss me all over my face.  That was a true expression of love which overwhelmed me, because you were a baby and nobody had taught you how to do that.  

A little over a year old

There are so many memories created with you, and I treasure every single one of them.  There was the time you first called me "Athai" (The Tamil word for aunt).  You were on the phone with me and your little baby voice struggled with the word.  "Ath", "Ath".  Then the whole word came out.  "Athai", you said,  quite happy with yourself.  You began to giggle.  I was beside myself with joy as I laughed so hard, tears were streaming down my face.  As you grew, there was more time spent with you.  You would burst out laughing every time your Dad said the words "Scrubbing Bubbles".  Nobody knew why, but it just endeared you to us even more than we knew was possible.  You were probably too young to remember this, but I still remember the first car ride you took alone with me.  It was a long drive home from the airport, in rush-hour traffic.  I dreaded the thought that at some point during the drive you would become cranky and cry for your Mom or Dad, and I wouldn't know what to do.  As it turned out, you were more than happy to ride along alone with me.  We had such a blast, singing silly songs at the top of our voices, playing peek-a-boo through the rear-view mirror, laughing all the way home.  

Goofin' around

As you grew up and began to speak in full sentences, things became even more fun.  The first sentence you ever spoke to me was "Walk there".  Somewhere along the way I lost my "Athai" status and became Susanna, but that was okay.  I was still your aunt.  You used to love listening to stories, and the stories didn't necessarily have to make sense.  You loved your cars.  You know the names of  the make of cars by their symbols.  You could barely speak, but you could say the words "Honda", "Volks", "Merce", "Sub-ru", and "Totah" for Toyota, You loved teddy bears and your toy train, your singing and dancing Elmo.   You loved music, my how you loved music!  You would stop what you were doing and listen raptly whenever music played, then you would begin to dance.  You were an awesome dancer even before the famous YouTube baby became an international sensation.  I remember the first time you sang "Dani California" for Rock Band.  We have since spent endless hours playing that game.  You make it look so easy when you play the guitar or drums.  You're learning to play the piano now, and you did such a good job at the recital I had the pleasure to attend.  I hope one day you'll pick up and learn to play the real guitar I bought you a few birthdays ago.  

Christmas 2009

I look at all the pictures I took of you as a baby and a toddler.  I can't believe how much you've grown!  I could write a book about all the time spent with you and everything about you that makes every moment so truly enjoyable.  It makes me forget all the stress of the work week and life in general, and it helps me be a kid again when I play with you.  Just when I think there isn't any place in my heart to love you any more than I already do, you say or do something that makes me love you even more.  No matter how old you grow up to be, you will always be my Doodlebug, my only nephew.  I will always be the aunt who loves you more than life itself.  Right now you're probably too young for this blog to be much more than some pictures of you and some words on the computer, but I hope one day you will read this and know how dear you are to me and how proud I am of you.   


Happy Birthday Nicholas, have a great day and a wonderful year!