Appy
In her memory. January 27, 2021.
Appy was born in Ramgarh, Punjab, and she almost didn't make it. She became seriously ill shortly after she was born, wasn't expected to survive, and her father had already been offered work in England. Her mother made a painful decision: she left her in India, in the care of her grandmother, Beji, while the rest of the family went ahead.
Appy spent her first four years believing Beji was her mother. When she was four, Beji sat her down and told her the truth, that there was a plane waiting and real parents on the other side. She arrived in England not speaking a word of English. The first thing she said, looking at her father's car, was: "What is this clapped-out old car?"
She learned the language, finished school, went to university and graduated with a degree in chemical engineering, eventually becoming a Senior Process Engineer. Her parents told her it was a man's job. Anyone who knew Appy would know that only made her more determined.
Her parents had a plan for her marriage too. A suitable Indian boy, arranged through the family, the way it was supposed to go. She introduced them to Peter instead, the English man she was in love with, and they didn't give their blessing. She married him anyway. In time, they came round, and they were right to: Appy and Peter were genuinely meant for each other.
They moved to Australia. Their first daughter, Jasmine, arrived. And that is when Appy's fertility journey began. She was diagnosed with endometriosis and told that having a second child would require IVF. She was preparing to start that process when she got a positive pregnancy test. Anisha arrived. They raised their daughters in Australia before eventually coming back to the UK, and that was where she was when she died, on January 27, 2021, from COVID-19.
"A survivor, who shared a lot of her life lessons: culture, food, laughter."
After Appy died, her daughters Anisha and Jasmine created a foundation in her name. They raised over twenty thousand pounds for charity, with the money going to support people in the pind where she was born, and particularly the girls growing up there. She had always talked about giving back. They made sure it happened.
Why this platform carries her name
In Punjabi and Urdu, the word for older sister is Appi.
This platform carries that name because of what it means, because of the synergy between Appy's life and mine, and because reproductive health and fertility sit in a space where South Asian women don't always have an easy language or the right person to call.
Appy and I had that in common too: our fertility journeys ran alongside each other without us ever getting to compare notes. The most trusted circles in South Asian families are sisters and cousin sisters, the ones you actually call when something is hard to say out loud. She would have been that for me. And she was gone.
This is the space I wish had existed when I needed it. It carries the name of the person I wish I could have called, and what you will find here is what I didn't have when I sat in that room: the information, the language, and the tools to advocate for yourself.
My tribute to Appy
Ava Apinder Kaur Bowen
On what would have been Appy's fifty-sixth birthday, I got a positive pregnancy test from a frozen IVF cycle that finally worked. After years of struggling, it was the first time I let myself feel hope.
My daughter was born on 3 July 2022. I named her Ava Apinder Kaur Bowen. She is my miracle baby after everything, and her name is a tribute, but it is also more than that: a way of saying that Appy's life, the way she came into the world fighting and never really stopped, the way she always did things entirely on her own terms, that all of it mattered and it continues.
I hope Ava carries every bit of that spirit, and I hope she always knows where she comes from.
This resonates:
Written by Dr Divpreet Sacha. Shared with family consent.