I’m sitting at my desk in my dorm listening to this Indian boy telling me how my music collection sucks. He downloads a handful of sappy songs instead and then continues with “All The Small Things” by Blink 182. “You don’t even have that song?!” Who cares about small things, I think in the back of my head. I don’t even like Blink.

Fifteen years later, that Indian boy is still there. He’s holding my hand this time around, helping me through contractions in our Labor & Delivery room. We’re about to have our second baby boy. He’s an IUGR baby, which means that he’ll be very small, though not a single doctor has been able to tell me why so far. I gained an acceptable (for my body size) 30 pounds and we had only made one doughnut and one fried pickle run during the entire 9 months. I can’t say I didn’t try to be healthy. It was nerve wrecking.

What made things worse is that we’re trying to watch “Back to the Future” (one of my favorite movies of all time) to distract me from contractions. I normally love Biff, but MAN is he annoying during contractions and the transition of labor part. After about an hour of telling Biff to go to hell, I decide that I’ve been at it long enough and ask for the epidural. I didn’t have one when I gave birth to Dilan. Everyone who’s had one tells me it’s amazing and you’ll be able to nap right through those contractions. Sounds good to me! I finally get one in and am about to lay down, so ready for my nap when I hear a silent “shit” from our L&D nurse. She’s looking at that screen that graphs your contractions and the next thing we know, she’s pinging my doctor and the delivery crew. The contractions are getting worse and I can still feel them. I SO do not have the energy to push out a baby and beg for my nap. Yeah, right, not happening. The special crew is called in, just because the baby is expected to be small. Twenty minutes, that annoying oxygen mask, and a lot of pushing later, Asher Anil Chawla is born:

Weight: 4 lbs, 6 ounces
Height: 19 inches
Head size: 32 cm

His name (Asher) originates from the Sanskrit word for “happy”. And that is exactly what he’s made us. There was no need for the NICU, he was breathing on his own and did not need any special care. I was floored. Since then, he’s been battling jaundice and some really bad reflux. He still manages to nurse like a champ and is growing slowly, but surely. Our pediatrician has told us twice already that he’s very feisty and the strongest little 4 pounder she’s ever met. We tend to agree. We’re not completely out of the woods yet, as he does need to grow more and shake off the breastfeeding jaundice, but every single day, things look more promising. Asher is small, but mighty.

I must send out a special thanks to Dilan. I know it’s tough to not get all the attention anymore, but just think of it this way, Dils: if it wasn’t for your awesomeness, we would have never thought of having an Asher in the first place. You’re going to be an amazing big bro. As for me, I will never take small things for granted again. My music collection back in the day might have sucked, but thank goodness it did, because it introduced me to a pretty amazing daddy who knows how to create some darn cute kids :-). Small things are growing on me. Heck, I may even like that stupid Blink song one day.