Ajeet

Written with love by his mother, Sukhkaran Kour

My name is Sukhkaran Kour, and I was born in a small village in India with big dreams. My family always supported my education, even during times of financial struggle. Step by step, with their blessings, I completed my studies, earned a government job in July 2012, and built a stable life. Yet, one dream always remained in my heart—to study and settle in a developed country.

Just a few months after starting my job, in December 2012, my mother passed away suddenly. Her loss shook our family deeply. Later, in August 2021, I lost my brother, Dukhharan Singh, who was the backbone of our family. These losses were heavy, but my father, brothers, and sisters-in-law held me close and supported me through every step.

I married in 2014 into a loving family, and in 2015, we were blessed with our daughter, Harmehar Kour Brar. Even then, my dream of going abroad stayed alive. My husband shared the same dream, and after many attempts, we applied for immigration in 2020, but received no response.

In April 2023, I discovered I was pregnant. In June, our immigration file unexpectedly opened, and everything changed like magic. Our Baby was lucky for us.  On 25 June 2023, we arrived in Canada—our dreamland. We stayed with relatives and began building a new life from the ground up, facing challenges of a new country, new jobs, a new environment, and starting over from zero.

My pregnancy check-ups were regular and mostly normal until my 7-month ultrasound on November 14, 2023, which detected possible IUGR. A repeat scan was reassuring. But on November 30, 2023, during a routine appointment, my blood pressure was high, and I was sent to Brampton Civic Hospital. There, the team found concerning ultrasound features and advised early delivery. My husband rushed from work as doctors prepared for a 34-week emergency C-section.

On December 1, 2023, at 1:45 AM, our son Ajeet Singh was born—1720 grams, 43 cm, and our little miracle.

He did not cry at birth. His skin was dark-blue, and he struggled to breathe. He was placed on a ventilator and taken to the NICU. A few hours later, surrounded by machines, he was transferred by air ambulance to The Hospital for Sick Children (SickKids), Toronto. There, doctors gently told us he likely had a genetic condition.

The next day, I was discharged—and walking out of the hospital without your baby in your arms is a pain no parent can ever forget.

At SickKids, genetic tests were taken. On December 7, 2023, I held Ajeet for the very first time. His beautiful large eyes looked straight into my soul. On his forehead, he had a small heart-shaped red mark, like a divine blessing.

That same day, doctors told us something no parent is ever prepared to hear: they suspected Bohring-Opitz Syndrome (BOS). They explained the severity, the pain he was experiencing, and gently advised withdrawing life support. Our world collapsed in that moment. But we wanted time, clarity, and faith—so we waited for the genetic confirmation.

Despite staying 1.5 hours away and recovering from surgery, I sent my breast milk daily for Ajeet. My husband’s cousins lovingly transported it. My sister-in-law Gagan prayed beside him every day. Our daughter, Harmehar, spent precious hours with Ajeet too. She prayed for his recovery, danced in front of him, and spoke to him with love. Their bond, though brief, became a source of strength for all of us.

Slowly, Ajeet showed small signs of strength: his first tiny tooth appeared on December 10, he moved to CPAP, and then was transferred back to Brampton Civic Hospital on December 22.

There a staff Leo cared him very much and one day he gave him Bubble bath.

In January, he improved briefly—breathing with minimal support. But he still could not suck, struggled with feeding, and required CPR multiple times.

On January 4, 2024, the official results confirmed: Ajeet had Bohring-Opitz Syndrome, a rare genetic condition with only 200–300 cases worldwide. As a pharmacist, genetics had always been my favourite subject—but hearing genetics with tears in my eyes was a different world.

Ajeet then returned to SickKids, to the Palliative Care Unit (7th floor). I decided to stay with my son, living in the hospital room with him, praying, reading Gurbani, and holding onto every breath he took. My husband worked during the day and came at night. Harmehar stayed with family and asked daily:
“Mummy, when will you bring Ajeet home? I am staying away from you so you can bring him back quickly.”

I had no words—only prayers.

On January 21, we celebrated our wedding anniversary quietly in the hospital room with Ajeet. On January 23, the PACT team arranged a beautiful family photoshoot. These moments became treasures in our hearts.

But Ajeet was suffering. His breathing was difficult, feeding was impossible, and brain abnormalities gave him no comfort. After long, painful meetings, on February 2, 2024, we faced the hardest decision of our lives: to let our baby go peacefully.

Before saying goodbye, I had one final wish—to take Ajeet to the Gurdwara Sahib, to place him before Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji, and to offer him into God’s care. We went at 11:10 AM, performing Sukhmani Sahib paath. I placed my son before the Guru and prayed:

“There is nothing of mine in me; whatever I have is Yours. I entrust it all to You, for what truly belongs to me?”

Ajeet was so peaceful, like a saint.

We returned to the hospital, took our last pictures at 2:24 PM, and offered our final prayers at 2:40 PM.

At 3:53 PM, I kissed his tiny feet, placed them on my forehead, and whispered my last apology for his suffering.

His oxygen support was removed. Doctors believed he would live only minutes—but Ajeet surprised everyone again. He lived for hours.

That night, I held him close and recited Kirtan Sohila, the Sikh bedtime prayer, while he rested in my arms.

We went home, waiting for the call no mother should ever wait for.

At 11:40 PM, the hospital called. Ajeet passed away peacefully at 11:35 PM.

He lived 64 days. And in those 64 days, he taught us what people don’t learn in 40 years of meditation. He never visited any holy place—but every holy prayer, every blessing, every sacred drop of water came to him.

We donated his remaining breast milk to help other babies—a gift from him to the world.

Ajeet was a warrior. A saint. A teacher. My brave son. His life was short, but his impact eternal.

We are deeply grateful to our family members, friends, and everyone who stood by us during this most difficult journey. Special thanks to the Civic Hospital and SickKids staff, whose support, care, and compassion were truly unbelievable. In Canada, starting life anew brought many challenges, but their dedication made every step bearable.

This story is shared with the world to honor every child with Bohring-Opitz Syndrome, every family facing rare conditions, and every moment of love, courage, and faith that transforms life itself.