Posts
I always knew I was not great mother material. I hardly played with kids or made efforts when any babies were around. Eventhough I found their smiles and giggles cute, I got annoyed at their tantrums and meltdowns and wondered why they are behaving the way they do. But my other half was great with kids. He used to make faces and play peek-a-boo with random kids we see on journeys. They would respond and giggle seeing his gimmicks. I imagined his happiness when we would have one and we slowly decided to start a family (even though I was damn scared about hospitals and medical procedures). So around a year and a half into our marriage, I conceived soon after we planned. Like almost every first pregnancy, I blushed, both families were overjoyed and he brought sweets. My younger sister who is fond of singing started checking out lullabies. Unaware of the journey I had in store, I announced the news to friends and teammates immediately. My cousin handed me over this book on pregnancy - reading which I even started talking sweet little nothings to my unseen baby. I shifted my seat from the second last row of the office bus to the first and walked around in my dream world assuming that I am beaming with pregnancy glow. I considered names for my baby, read about the diets followed by pregnant women and thought about attires to wear for the functions ahead. All in a week's time. My world came crashing down when I noticed a tint of blood in the loo - after which I started crying frantically. My mother tried to pacify me telling such things happen during early pregnancy at times. Her efforts were in vain as I had already assumed the worst. Minutes in the hospital waiting to get scanned felt like hours. After what seemed like ages, the doctor told me that he's unable to see the sac - which means I could either be losing the pregnancy or that it's too early to see the details in the scan. I was in more tears and the nurses tried their best to calm me down. I was asked to repeat some blood tests after 48 hours to confirm if the pregnancy is progressing. Those were the longest 48 hours of my life. I prayed like never before, spent the entire time in bed as the ignorant me believed that bed rest saves pregnancies, kept telling my baby to hold onto me and that we would somehow make it. He was also devastated and was struggling to keep me positive. The results that came affirmed that we were losing the baby. I was asked to get admitted in the labor room the next day for the closure procedures. The doctor talked about Darwin's theory and the nurses consoled me telling that I am too young and that it's just a year into our marriage. For the world it was just another early pregnancy. But for me, it was my baby whom I had talked to, whom I had already named in my head, our first born. I was in no mood for infertility worries or survival theories. I remember us walking out into the rain with broken hearts and shattered dreams. That night, I asked my sister to sing once before my baby is gone and she did, with tears welled up in her eyes. I cursed myself, lying in the labor room enduring the pain and hearing the cries of other newborns. I prayed that my baby feel no pain. I tried to convince myself that my baby would come back to me stronger. When we overheard someone there sigh over getting a girl child, I struggled not to envy them and wished the newborn a blessed life ahead. Finally, I was back home. But believe me, if post partum depression is bad, PPD without a baby is hell.
"I hoped you would get his eyes. But you never opened them for me to find out"
Note: I hope to write the rest of my journey soon. I wish to provide hope to people who are struggling in similar paths. Having said that, I also would like to reiterate that motherhood is no destination in a woman's journey, but a purely optional path.
