striking a chord, unexpectedly

dear world,

today, i read 2 items that independently made me reflect on my daughter’s first moments in this world.

the first item was an article in the times regarding the lost art (or practice, really) of speaking to your baby . jane brody wrote an article called from birth, engage your child with talk speaking to how even in the first months of a baby’s life the engagement with his or her parents makes a difference in learning, development and speech. with all the new technology, the author notes seeing more parents and nannies tuned into smartphones than the babies being pushed about in strollers.

i’m so proud of V for all of her words and i wonder how spending the first 6 weeks of her life in the NICU effected that part of her. surrounded by nurses, doctors, other babies and us- how did hearing that cacophony of sounds influence her?

as for the second item, i it read a moment ago in salmon rushdie’s the moor’s last sigh which i am done reading. (i am not finished with the novel, i am simply done reading it.) a character died as a result of tuberculosis and the discussion involved the lungs- the importance of breath, the cry of a new born baby using his or her lungs to suck in air to wail among other topics.

this is where i put the book down. when V was born, i held her for a moment and the doctors and nurses whisked her away to make sure those lungs kept working. they weren’t strong enough to wail on their own. her lungs weren’t capable of that lusty cry.

sometimes, it strikes me and i can’t really look back.

remembering,

cm

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