Last year, I guess a few hours later into the night of September 16, I sat at the dining table, post dinner, penning down my birthday retrospect for the year. Over the last couple of years, I try and write down a few thoughts, maybe to encapsulate what I learnt that year, or just mark the beginning of another ‘birth-year’, in the hope that in years to come, when I look back at the various birthday retrospect I will see the trajectory of my life, in the form of blog posts. Well, whatever the reason, I felt drawn compulsively to write last year. My son barely over a month old, and nights filled with feeding and diaper changes, with a morning routine not much different, I wasn’t sure I was up to writing a post. But, I wanted to. Not writing it would mean that I had given up a part of who I was, pre-baby. Not writing it would have meant, I had lost the balance between being me and being a mother. I know it sounds hogwash, now, but back then in my sleep-addled mind , writing that p