Tag: family

She Came. She Sang. He Slept.

Vuvu boy! The first few days after bringing you home were magical and overwhelming but equally tiring. Sleepless nights, endless feeds, and the constant worry of “Are we doing this right?” became part of our everyday life. That’s when your japa nurse, Nomita aunty entered our home — and quietly became our lifesaver.

There were moments when you were completely inconsolable. No amount of rocking, feeding, or cuddling seemed to help. That’s when she would gently scoop you into her arms and walk around the house or sit at one place for hours if needed. Her patience felt endless. Watching her calm you with nothing but love and rhythm was nothing short of a miracle.

On nights when exhaustion took over me, she became my strength. There were times she held you through the night so I could finally rest. While I slept, she stayed awake — rocking, soothing, whispering lullabies into your tiny ears. Knowing my baby was safe in her arms allowed me to breathe again.

She didn’t just care for you — she filled our home with joy. She sang sweet Bengali songs (your favorite being Aay Aay Paakhi) that made your tiny eyes slowly close. She danced around the room just to bring a smile to a little face. Sometimes it looked like a private concert meant only for you.

What made her truly special was her spirit. She was always smiling and chatting with our family, turning even the most tiring days into lighter ones. She was constantly joking around, spreading laughter wherever she went. She had the heart of a child — playful, warm, and full of life — and yet the wisdom of someone who truly knew how to care for a newborn.

Most of all, she loved what she did. You could see it in the way she held you, in the way she spoke softly, in the way she never rushed a moment. This was never just a job for her — it was her calling.

They say it takes a village to raise a child. For us, your japa aunty was that village in one person. Her hands gave us rest. Her songs gave you comfort. Her laughter gave our home happiness.

We will forever be grateful for the woman who walked into our lives when we needed help the most — and left behind memories we will carry forever.

February 19, 2026
The Great Motamummy House Wakeathon

Sharva! One day, when you’re big enough to read this, we want you to know about those two days. The ones that made everyone a little tired, a little confused and very, very in love with you.

You were just a tiny newborn when we went to Motapappa – Motamummy’s house. Everyone imagined sleepy cuddles and peaceful naps. But you, my monkey boy, had other plans.

For two whole days, you decided that sleeping for more than 20 minutes was absolutely unnecessary. Every hour—almost on the dot—you wanted to be fed. And if you weren’t being held? Well… that was simply unacceptable. You wanted arms, warmth, movement, and company at all times.

Motamummy, being Motamummy, sprang into full action mode. At the very first sign that you might need extra comfort, she instantly ordered a Ghodiyu. No waiting, no debating. And just like that, the mission was assigned: Dilip was asked to get the Ghodiya from Lal Darwaja and Mehul was rushed to get the khol from Paridhan! Teamwork at its finest.

The house was buzzing. Motamummy. Japa aunty. Motapappa. Mumma. Everyone was on their toes—taking turns, whispering, rocking, feeding, pacing—while watching your wide, curious eyes that simply refused to close.

But in the middle of all this was Mumma—
exhausted, frustrated, overwhelmed, sad, and so very tired. She was running on broken sleep, worried thoughts, and a heart that just wanted to make everything better for you. Some moments felt heavy. Some moments brought tears. And some moments were just about surviving the next hour.

And Motamummy saw all of it. She wasn’t only worried about you—she was equally worried about Mumma. Checking in, stepping in, reminding me to sit, to eat, to breathe. Holding the baby when Mumma’s arms ached, and holding Mumma together when it all felt like too much.

Seeing Mumma so exhausted, Dadda also came from Rajkot just for a few hours to be with the both of us. He sat close, helped in quiet ways, and simply being there brought comfort. You have no idea how thankful Mumma was in those moments—how supported and less alone she felt just because he showed up.

During this whirlwind even, Dadu, Dadi, Chachu, and Chachi came to meet you. They were so excited, eager to spend a few precious hours with their newest little love. But you… you wanted nothing to do with anything.

No cuddles.
No introductions.
No calm moments.

You cried. And cried. And cried some more.

Everyone tried everything—soft voices, gentle rocking, hopeful smiles—but you were not having it. It made them a little sad to see their tiny one crying nonstop, unable to soothe you the way they had imagined. But even through the worry, their love for you was overflowing.

You were overtired.
You were overstimulated.
You were fussy.
And you were determined to keep your eyes wide open.

We worried, of course. So Motapappa asked Viren Nana and we went to see a paediatrician the next day, carrying our exhaustion and a thousand questions with us. The doctor smiled calmly and said the simplest, most comforting words: “It’s just a phase.” And just like that, we breathed a little easier.

Those two days were super hectic. There was very little sleep, lots of concern, endless holding, and a house full of adults revolving around one tiny human. But they were also filled with love—messy, instinctive, drop-everything love.

You may not remember these days. But we will.

They remind us that from the very beginning, you had your own rhythm. And that Mumma learned how strong she could be—even on days she felt anything but strong. And that Motamummy stood right there, protecting both her baby and her grandbaby.

And if you’re wondering—yes, you eventually did sleep. And yes, everyone survived.

And just in case you’re reading this as a teenager or an adult and wondering why everyone in the family reacts very quickly when you say you’re “not sleepy”. This was your debut performance.

Two days.
Zero long naps.
One entire household trained to respond at lightning speed.

You taught us early. Very early. 😌

January 23, 2026
One Baby. Many Arms. Zero Silence.

15th January 2026. Some days feel bigger than the clock allows them to be. This was one of those days.

After spending the first one and a half months wrapped in the quiet comfort of Dadu and Dadi’s home in Rajkot, it was time for our little world to move again—this time to Motapappa and Motamummy’s in Ahmedabad. Of course, we left late. Not fashionably late, just family-with-a-newborn late. Bags half-checked, hearts full, and one tiny baby completely unaware that he was about to steal yet another household’s peace.

The car ride was one of those soft, in-between moments. City passing by, halt at Chotila, quick lunch at HFM, hushed conversations, stolen glances to make sure our miracle was still breathing, still sleeping, still perfect. Everything felt slow and fast at the same time.

And then—we arrived to your Mumma’s city.

If love could shout, Motamummy Motapappa’s home would have echoed. Balloons everywhere. Beautiful decorations. Cake waiting patiently. Doors opening wide like they’d been rehearsing for this moment. Aki Mamu’s joy was impossible to miss—pure, loud, overflowing happiness. Himani Masi came rushing in to meet you too, and suddenly the house was full of voices, laughter, movement, and arms competing for their turn.

It was chaos. Beautiful, noisy, heart-bursting chaos. Everyone wanted a glimpse. Everyone wanted a cuddle. Everyone wanted to say, “He’s here.” And in the middle of it all, you were calm, tiny, and completely in charge without even trying.

That day reminded us how love shows up differently in different homes—but always in abundance. It reminded us that family isn’t quiet, or orderly, or planned. It’s messy, loud, late, emotional and absolutely magical.

Now, for the next few weeks, this house will hold your days. You’ll grow here, nap here, be adored endlessly here. New routines, new memories, same overwhelming love.

But in all this happiness, we will miss Daddy and Stella deeply everyday. Daddy, whose presence makes everything feel complete, and Stella, whose playful energy and unconditional love are always part of our world. Motamummy’s house is full of warmth, but their absence will be felt in the quiet moments and gentle pauses of the day.

And one day, when you’re old enough to read this, I hope you smile knowing this:
Wherever you went, joy arrived before you did. And it always will. 💙

January 15, 2026
The Boss Baby and his Army

Hello Monkey Boy,

Before you even learned how to open your eyes properly, you had already built an entire fan club. And not just any fan club—a full-blown army. The kind that shows up half-asleep, armed with love, opinions, blessings, and an endless supply of “let me hold the baby.”

Mom and Dad were your co-CEOs—learning on the job, running on love and very little sleep. They were supported by motamummy and dadi, who brought wisdom, warmth, and the magical ability to calm everyone (including the parents).

Your Dadi and Motamummy became our quiet guardians during that first month and a half. They made sure your mama was always well fed, well rested, and cared for, because they knew that caring for me was also caring for you. Warm meals appeared on time, gentle reminders to rest were constant, and every little need—spoken or unspoken—was met with patience and love. Because of them, our days felt softer and our nights felt safer.

Then came the japa nurse, Nomita didi—part nurse, part angel, part baby-whisperer—guiding everyone through those days like a pro. And of course, the househelps, Swati didi, Prabha aunty, Nayana aunty, Kavita aunty, Kailash aunty, Usha aunty, Kiran aunty, Poonam ben and Parvaty who all made sure the world kept spinning while all attention was firmly fixed on you.

And then there was Stella—your dog sibling, your silent supporter, and the most patient member of the household. Stella took a gentle backseat so Mom and Dad could be there for you always. She waited quietly during long nights, accepted fewer cuddles without complaint, and watched over you with curious eyes and a protective heart. In her own way, she understood that something very special had arrived—and she made space for you with nothing but love.

Even when they weren’t physically around all the time, Dadu, Motapappa, Mamu, Mimi, Chachu, and Chachi always had you on their mind. Phone calls, messages, prayers, and constant “How’s Sharva?” check-ins made sure you were surrounded by love from every direction.

And let’s not forget Mom and Dad’s friends—your first unofficial aunties and uncles. They made sure your parents were heard, supported, reassured, and occasionally reminded that they were doing just fine. From pep talks to laughs to “this phase will pass,” they held Mom and Dad up so they could hold you.

So if you ever wonder how you were raised in those early days—know this: You were raised by a village full of love, teamwork, chaos, kindness, countless helping hands—and one very good dog. You may have been tiny, but you were never alone. You were carried by many hearts (and paws) from day one.

January 10, 2026
To My Baby Boy: Meet the Angels Who Love You

My sweet boy Sharva,

There are two souls I want to introduce you to today. One walks beside us still, and one walks with us in a way we can’t see—but both have been part of your story since before you were born.

The first is my soul dog Happy, the one who loved me and your dadda long before we knew you. When I was six months pregnant with you, she suddenly left this world. My body was carrying new life, and my heart was learning how to survive loss. It felt impossible to hold joy and grief at the same time—but somehow, I did. And somehow, she never really left.

Through every kick, every quiet moment, every time I rested my hands on my growing belly, I felt her there. I truly believe she stayed close, watching over us, protecting you even before I could hold you in my arms. I know it sound crazy but I could literally feel her presence in the OT the day you were born.

Today is Happy’s birthday—the first one since she passed. And on this day, I want to introduce you to her. She was gentle, loyal, and deeply intuitive. She loved without conditions and understood us without words. I believe she knew you too. I believe she felt you growing and knew her role was changing—not ending.

And then there is Stella—my other baby girl. She is here with us, right now, filling our home with warmth, softness, and life. Stella carries pieces of the love that came before her. In ways you won’t understand yet, she helps me feel grounded. She comforts me when memories feel heavy, and she reminds me that love continues forward.

I like to think Stella knows she isn’t alone in watching over you. That she and Happy will always be connected—one here, one beyond—both loving you fiercely in their own ways. I believe you are protected in special ways. By the sister who walks beside you every day. And by the one who walks ahead of you, guiding quietly.

You may never meet one of them in this lifetime, but you will grow up surrounded by both their love. Because love doesn’t disappear—it transforms, it stays, it watches.

So on Happy’s birthday, I celebrate both my baby girls. And I celebrate you. Two dogs. One little boy. All connected by love.

Happy birthday, my angel girl Happy.
Stella is taking great care of us.
And your little brother is always safe. 💙🧿

Mumma with Happy and Stella

Dadda with Happy and Stella

December 26, 2025
The Legend of the Monkey Boy

In the quiet hours of the day, there’s a tiny boy who rules the house. He’s small, warm, and brand new, with fingers that curl like they already know how to hold on. He is my newborn baby boy Sharva, though around here he goes by his official nickname: Monkey Boy.

After a feeding, when it’s burping time, Monkey Boy transforms. Suddenly, he’s no longer a sleepy newborn—he’s a tiny jungle creature clinging for survival. He presses himself against whoever is holding him, clinging with surprising determination. His little hands latch onto shirts, fingers, collars, and occasionally hair, as if gravity has personally offended him. Letting go is not an option.

He presses his face into your chest, curls his legs in, and holds on with a strength that makes you wonder if he’s secretly been doing pull-ups when no one’s watching. Then, just when you start to think he’s forgotten why he’s there—BURP. A small, victorious sound, followed by an even tighter cling, like he’s proud of himself and wants a round of applause.

Monkey Boy doesn’t know much yet, but he knows how to burp like a champ and cling like a pro. He knows how to hold on, and he does it with his whole heart. And somehow, between the burps and the baby grip of doom, he manages to make everyone laugh—and fall even more in love with him. 🐒💙

The Monkey Boy Burping with his favorites

December 10, 2025
Stitches, Swaddles, and Sleepless Nights

The first week after you were born was quiet, blurry, and full of love. My body was healing from major abdominal surgery, and every movement reminded me that bringing you into the world took strength I didn’t know I had. Still, every time I held you, the discomfort faded into the background.

You woke at the most random hours—middle of the night, early morning, moments when the world felt completely still. Sleep no longer followed a clock. I fed you in soft, dim light, holding you close while you nursed. Breastfeeding wasn’t always easy at first, but each feed felt like a small victory we shared together.

Those nights were when I truly began to know you. I noticed the way you wrapped your fingers around mine, how your breathing slowed once you were full, how safe you felt resting on my chest. We were both learning—me learning how to be your mother, and you learning the world, one gentle moment at a time.

But you were never held by just me. Your dad was there from the very beginning—steady, patient, and full of love. He lifted you when my body needed rest, changed you in the quiet hours, and made sure I was okay so I could take care of you. Your dadi, motamummy, motapappa, chachu were just as much a part of those first few days. They watched over you with endless care, helped soothe you, stayed awake with us and wrapped all of us in comfort when everything felt new and overwhelming.

That first week wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t easy—but it was full. Full of hands that held you, hearts that adored you, and a family that showed up for you in every way. From the very start, you were surrounded by love, support, and warmth.

Always remember this: you were nourished, protected, and deeply loved—not by one person, but by athe enitre family—right from your very first days.

💙🧿

December 7, 2025
The Name That Survived the Group Chat

Before you were born—before we ever saw your face or held your tiny fingers—we were already dreaming about you. We talked about you, imagined your laughter filling our home, and wondered what kind of person you would grow into. And somewhere in all those dreams was a very important question: What would we call you?

Finding your name became a journey of love, opinions, laughter, togetherness and fights. It wasn’t just your mom and dad thinking about it—our entire family joined in. Everyone had ideas, suggestions, and hopes wrapped into beautiful names, and each one carried so much affection for you.

We started long before your arrival. Names were discussed over phone calls, messages, and family conversations. Some names felt strong, some gentle, some modern, and some deeply rooted in tradition. Each suggestion came with a story, a meaning, or simply the joy of imagining you growing into it.

When you were finally born, our hearts felt fuller than we ever thought possible. And with your arrival came clarity. According to your date of birth your Rashi is Kumbh (Aquarius) just like your Dadi and Giju Dada. That gave our search a beautiful direction, grounding our emotions in tradition and meaning.

Your dad and I had one name we really loved from the start—Shivarth. It felt powerful and spiritual, filled with devotion and depth. But we also wanted to pause, listen, and truly feel what name belonged to you.

That’s when all the family suggestions came together like pieces of a puzzle. Ronak Chachu and Hasti Chachi lovingly suggested Shaurya, a name full of courage and strength. Akshat Mamu suggested Shay, simple, modern, and full of warmth. Dadu, Dadi, Motamummy and Motapappa wanted your dad and I to make the final call. And then your Kavya Mimi suggested Sharva. The moment we heard Sharva, something just clicked.

We repeated it softly. We imagined calling you by that name. We pictured you growing into it—kind, strong, calm, and confident. And most importantly, we loved what it stood for. Sharva is a Sanskrit name meaning “the destroyer,” often referring to Lord Shiva, symbolizing the destruction of evil, sins, and miseries, or signifying completeness/perfection, and also associated with Lord Krishna, representing “everything” or “the entire”.

We wanted your name to be meaningful, rooted in faith, yet timeless. A name that carried blessings, strength, and love—something you could grow into while still being entirely your own person. So after all the discussions, suggestions, and moments of reflection, we knew. Sharva was your name.

It came from family, from tradition, from love, and from our hearts. One day, when you read this, we hope you feel how deeply wanted you were, how thoughtfully you were named, and how many people surrounded you with love even before you took your first breath. Your name is a reminder that you are never alone—you are carried by faith, family, and endless love.

The day you were officially named Sharva 🧿

December 4, 2025