Autobiography of an infant

Hi! This is Angela. I am one year old today. We had a grand party today to celebrate my birthday. Many family members and friends attended my party and brought me gifts. Today morning, when I woke up, my mom hugged me tight, gave me a sweet kiss and wished me a very happy birthday. She also gave me my baby book which she created herself. The book is full of my pictures from the time I was born till today, including an ultrasound report of my mother. It has pictures of me inside my mother. This made me remember some things from the early moments of my life.

I have a faint memory of the time I was inside her. It was a nice and dark home. I used to feel so safe and warm in my liquid-filled home. I got food and air from my mother. I felt safe hearing her heartbeat. My mother used to speak to me and stroke me often. She used to play soft and soothing music, and religious chants for me. She used to take good care of her diet and health so that I could be comfortable and healthy. My work was to be a good baby and take up all the nourishment I could to grow well.

Inside my mother, I used to speak to God every now and then, and ask him questions about my life. I asked him why I was being born in this family. Who was I in my previous birth? Which good deeds had brought me to this family? What is my goal in this life and whether I would attain freedom from this cycle of birth and death in this life?

I enjoyed being the object of joy and happiness for my parents. I could tell by the excitement in their voice that they were eagerly waiting for my arrival.

The day I was born, I had to struggle a lot to get out of my cosy home and come into this world. It was very hard work for me and my mother. I could hear her scream in pain when I was about to come out. I wish God had made an easier and gentler way of bringing babies to their mothers. After seeing my mother, I saw my father and my grandparents. They all were overjoyed to see me and welcomed me with a lot of love. After we came home, lots of other family members visited us and got me lots of presents. They saw me and appreciated my thick hair. After seeing me they would instantly say that I looked like my father, though, my hair and hands were like my mother.

Since I am her first child, mom didn’t know much about taking care of me. Though she used to take utmost care of me, she would get confused sometimes and wouldn’t know how to comfort me. She would try to feed me even if I was crying because I was feeling hot and not hungry. Even if I was feeling hot, she would keep adjusting the speed of the fan so that I wouldn’t catch a cold. Every time I emptied my stomach she would worry over its colour and frequency and think of calling doctor uncle to ask if I was ok.

In order to make me comfortable, she would constantly straighten the sheets of my bed, adjust my pillow, and feel me to see if I was feeling cold. At night, she would check every fifteen minutes to see if I had coughed up milk or I was getting suffocated by my cover. Sometimes I used to feel sorry for my mom. I wish I could tell her in some way what I wanted and felt.

She used to be so worried about me all the time that she won’t leave my side and go anywhere. Even if she went out of the house for only an hour, she would keep thinking about me and come back as soon as she could. I also felt like staying with my mom all the time and would miss her when she was gone.

When I was a month old, I was taken to doctor uncle to get some medicine that was good for my health. I know it was important to take the medicine, but it pained a lot when he put it in my leg. For the next two days my leg pained and I felt very cold and weak. My mom stayed up all night to cradle me and stroke my leg.

Until I was three months old, we used to stay at home all the time because I was very small. But after that my mom started taking me to a very beautiful garden. Many children and elders used to come to the garden. Some children were my age and some were elder to me. When I used to go to the garden, all the children and aunties would come and play with me. They would shake my hand and speak to me in animated voices. I used to love the fresh air and the colourful flowers of the garden.

When I was four months old, I started turning to my side and rolling onto my stomach. By five months, I had started trying to crawl. Earlier, I used to get frustrated when I would drop my toy and couldn’t pick it up, but now I could turn on my own and pick up my toy. Since I was beginning to see and feel things around me, I also wanted to lick them and see how they tasted. I used to put everything that I came across in my mouth and lick it. My mom used to get very annoyed by this habit of mine. But since I didn’t stop doing it, she started cleaning my toys regularly and giving them to me to lick. She also bought a teether for me which I could happily lick and chew with my gums.

By the end of six months, I could easily sit on my own and play with my toys. I could also crawl by now. My mom used to keep running after me wherever I went to see what I was up to. I was so excited by the new skill I developed that I wanted to visit every nook and corner of the house and grab everything I could. I wanted to see, feel, smell and taste everything that came in my hand. From that month on, the floor of my house became my food plate.

The next month I was to begin eating cereals. There was ceremony in my house after which I could eat rice. My tonsure was also performed that month. When my hair started growing back and formed a furry layer on my head, everyone took great pleasure in feeling my head. It was ok in the beginning but I started getting annoyed after a few days. To show my displeasure, the moment somebody touched my head I would scream with all my strength. This made them stop after a few attempts.

This month my mom started holding my hand and making me stand. Once I stood up, she would encourage me to walk. I would take small steps and walk with her. But I would get bored very fast and wouldn’t want to walk. My mom would then wait for some time and then try again. I finally started standing and walking on my own by the end of my eight month. When I stood on my own and took my very first step, my mom jumped with joy and took me in her arms. She then quickly got her camera and shot my next walk. I myself was very glad with my achievement since this meant that I could now grab things that I wanted easily. With a little more practice I could climb the bed and also get down from it whenever I wanted. This meant that I had more freedom and I could have more fun.

By now I could also say a few words. Though it was some gibberish, both mom and papa were excited the minute I uttered my first word. From that day on, mom fervently started to teach me how to say the word ‘Ma’. I would imitate the way she used to move her lips and tried saying a few words. After a few weeks I progressed to say Ma, Pa, and Dada. My grandmother had to wait a little long to hear her name though.

Today, when I look at my baby book, I get reminded of all these things I did this year. It has pictures of my mischief, achievements and the good times I had. I will cherish this baby book for the rest of my life which will keep these fond memories fresh forever.