I would have by now done the "Motherhood Dare/ Challenge" that's doing rounds on FB, had I not stumbled upon a few blogs/ articles that were not completely in agreement of the concept.
I am sure most of you have already seen, if not actually done the so called challenge. For those who have no clue, here's the deal (copy pasted from where I was nominated)
The Motherhood dare! (I accepted)
I was nominated to post a picture that makes me happy/proud to be a mom...I'm going to tag the ladies that I think are fabulous mothers, and can rise up to the challenge of posting a pic of their own. If I've tagged you as one of the awesome moms, copy the text and paste it to your wall with a picture, and tag more moms!
Well, that's the deal. You have to RISE UP to the challenge of posting a pic with your bub. Now the blogs that I read, seemed to have a gotten a little upset over this, and empathize with those women who have suffered a miscarriage (once or maybe repeatedly); women who are trying hard to concieve; women who have lost a child. The general impression I got from those blogs was that this challenge is unfair to women who are not as fortunate as the rest who are uploading an innocent picture of themselves with their kids.
My take on the entire issue is slightly different. While I am going to be blunt about it, I, in no way intend on being hurtful or insensitive to anyone who has gone ahead to do the challenge, or to those who would love to but cannot.
The thing is, this is social media. It is a place where all the gloss and glamour of ones life are highlighted. It's all about showing everyone the good side of your life and getting a kick out of rising likes and comments. No one stops to think if their good news is going to hurt someone else. I mean, why will they, because they just want to tell everyone what they have achieved/ seen/ done/ bought..
It is not just limited to being or not being able to be a mother. I understand that I am treading on a very delicate subject here. However, there's nothing one can do but choose to ignore it if you don't like it. This is just one face. There are many people who feel dejected over others achievements/ happiness.
Consider a few examples (i think a few of these I wrote in the comment to one of the blogs)
Ex getting married while you are still wallowing in the past
A student who was denied visa checks out his friend's graduation snaps at the university he was accepted to do his Masters
A single girlfriend checks out her married best friend's snap who is also a mother of three
and that married friend checking out her single friend's photos and check ins, clubbing into the wee hours of the night, her perfect figure intact; while she is up all night feeding the infant and tending to a sick child
A woman who lost her husband feels sad looking at her sister's 10th wedding anniversary status message
Someone your age bought a mansion and you are trying hard to make ends meet
The list just goes on. What I mean to say that calling it unfair to a certain set of women is completely baseless and irrelevant. Anything and everything shared on social media ends up touching someone's raw nerve and that doesn't mean the intention was that. We have got to learn to ignore things that affect us to such a private level.
I do not wish to demean anyone or say that getting affected by such things is for weak people. I can only empathize with the pain and yearning that women must be dealing with. However, it is social media and it is reckless, for everyone. Do you think I have never wished my life was like someone else's? All the time! That's the time I tell myself that I am just seeing the bright side; what lies beyond and beneath the shadowed, concealed part is probably not what I want.
My reason to not do the Motherhood Dare is entirely different. I want to know what's the dare or challenge in putting up a happy picture of you and your kid. Whoever started this whole thing obviously did not know what "rise up to a challenge" means. A challenge or a dare is something which you do going against the current. What kind of courage is needed to put up a picture featuring you and your kid which was taken obviously when both were in a happy mood? One may contest that it is "a picture that makes me happy and proud to be a mom". Well, then don't call it a challenge or a dare because it is a blatant mistreatment of those words.
Which one is more of a challenge - take a flight of stairs to the 50th floor or take an elevator to it? Clearly the former; unless of course you are claustrophobic, in which case it would be the latter.
The "Motherhood challenge" is just asking all these women to take an elevator to the 50th floor. Who can't do that?! While I agree that motherhood, rather parenthood in itself is an enormous challenge. This little drama certainly isn't.
If we did have to dare mothers, it should be to click and upload a pic of yourself (and optionally the kids) when you are at the most vulnerable moment of motherhood and mothering. Click a snap of yours, as is, when you are having a long night with a cranky/ tantrum-ing/ sick/ refusing-to-listen-to-you kid. The day when you haven't had time to even wash your face, let alone take a bath. The day when you are so sleep deprived that every cell in your body is begging you to shut off your power unit but your kid ask for "one last bedtime story" for the 372nd time. The day when you realize you are no longer invited by your friends for an outing because you are too busy being a mom. The day when you are so angry and frustrated and exhausted that your cheeks are streaked with never ending tears. The day you yell so hard that it seems like there are mini explosions of blood cells in your brain. The day you realize that you are not the person you were. The day you feel that despite your best efforts everyone is blaming you for all the things that went wrong. The day you just want to abandon everybody and crawl back to your mother.
Last week I had one of those days. The entire household had a meltdown. Aa threw a fit because I accidentally flushed the toilet while she wanted to. No amount of cajoling, caressing helped. I couldn't humour her, I couldn't console her. She was angry and unreasonable beyond any repair. Right from the sweetest form of consoling to the worst form of yelling did not help. it wasn't long before the younger one started bawling at the commotion. While she did compose after a while, the entire cloud of anger and glum proceeded throughout the day and well into the evening. That day she tested our patience. Even the husband, who is usually the one who takes everything coolly just lost it.
I am not too proud of what happened that day. At the back of my mind I was wondering what would I answer if someone called the 911.
Things weren't just this easy. The younger one was suffering from upper respiratory infection and was coughing. He was unusually cranky too. And the royal icing on the cake was the younger one's projectile vomit ending up all over my upper half. Did I say there was a cherry on the icing too? After having him cleaned and changed, we put the sleepy kid down with his ritualistic bottle of milk, only to vomit again and soil not just the bed and sheet, but also his entire right side, including the hair.
As I cried tears of exhaustion, anger and failure, I thought of how much courage it would take me to document my day into a picture and post it on Facebook saying "Motherhood Challenge Accepted". And that would say that despite such days I am proud/ happy to be a mother.
Showing posts with label Non-fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Non-fiction. Show all posts
Monday, 2 May 2016
Thursday, 12 June 2014
Day 12 :: Maid it!
I need my house clean. Need, not just want. Not necessarily tidy and neat every time, but clean, always! The habit of living in a clean - and I mean real, sparkly, spic and span type of clean - stems right from childhood. My parents, both of them are sticklers for cleanliness and neatness. Honestly, I hated it then. Always wondered why it was necessary that the house be so ironed! Only after I had my own house, did I understand what it meant for me.
Recently I hired a maid for the daily sweeping-mopping. Not that I was happy with the prospect, but then, considering I had other commitments to honour, I just couldn't afford to lose time in doing the daily chore. Let me mention here that in all my growing years, mom had never hired a maid. So I hardly have the knack, or the patience even to handle one. Coming back to my new employee, S. S was supposed to start her duty from the 15th of April. Mutually consented date. A few days before the D day, she informed me that she had some sort of a vrat, and hence would start at a later date. I agreed. After all, what could I do.
When the first day dawned, I made my stance clear, stating how clean I expect the house. A weekly day to wash the balcony was also decided upon. I also stressed that I don't like to nag, so she would get the freedom to do her job as long as she did it properly and sincerely. So far so good.
The next day she forgot to sweep the balcony. And the day after that too. The third day I reminded her, and she promptly cleaned it without a word. Fourth day, she informed me that she was gonna remain absent for 2 days. Yes, I know, already! I managed to give a peaceful approval. In the 15 remaining days of April, she bunked about 6 days, but by informing me. That way I couldn't slice her salary. However, I decided to play tough and point out that if this happened often, I am going to have to cut her pay.
That wasn't all. The balcony, remember? Well, she forgot to sweep it every single day. But didn't forget to silently get angry at how she was taking me for a ride. Oh yes, call me mighty stupid, but I cannot tell beyond point. I don't like to keep nagging. I believe every person should do his job with integrity without having to be told every now and then. The day I reminded, she would do it.
Work wise also I was just not satisfied. Obviously I didn't have any impossible expectations of her cleaning every nook and cranny and under the table and bed stuff. I know that's all a fairy tale, or one has had to have done some punya ka kaam in previous lives to get a bai who does all that! S completed the entire set of work within 7 minutes. She would shift the dust and dirt from one place to another conspicuous place. I remember how once there was one chaii stain on the kitchen floor and how it remained there for days, despite her mopping over it every single day. I would cringe at her work, but kept mum that I had someone do the work for me.
The whole of the above paragraph happened in the first 9 days of May. Because after that-yes, you guessed it right- she was going for a vacation! for full 22 days! And surprise, she was doing me a favour, by giving me a replacement bai.
By now I was fed up and frustrated of living in a dirty home. I had had enough. I told the replacement bai that I wouldn't be needing their services any more.
Since the day I have had to maid-it, I am at peace. Yes I have to wake up early in the morning than I would like to. But as compared to having a bai, early mornings seem worth it!
You might argue why I cannot employ another one, or that why I cannot be stern with them. I just cannot. I am sorry, but I cannot be a nag. And if I have the time to nag around, I might as well do it myself. I don't like to engage in everyday verbal battle. I find it an interference in my time, to give orders , or to remind, or to correct. Not to mention the forever waiting for them to turn up at the right time.
Well, for now I am gloating in my clean house that remains so till I clean it again the next morning.
Recently I hired a maid for the daily sweeping-mopping. Not that I was happy with the prospect, but then, considering I had other commitments to honour, I just couldn't afford to lose time in doing the daily chore. Let me mention here that in all my growing years, mom had never hired a maid. So I hardly have the knack, or the patience even to handle one. Coming back to my new employee, S. S was supposed to start her duty from the 15th of April. Mutually consented date. A few days before the D day, she informed me that she had some sort of a vrat, and hence would start at a later date. I agreed. After all, what could I do.
When the first day dawned, I made my stance clear, stating how clean I expect the house. A weekly day to wash the balcony was also decided upon. I also stressed that I don't like to nag, so she would get the freedom to do her job as long as she did it properly and sincerely. So far so good.
The next day she forgot to sweep the balcony. And the day after that too. The third day I reminded her, and she promptly cleaned it without a word. Fourth day, she informed me that she was gonna remain absent for 2 days. Yes, I know, already! I managed to give a peaceful approval. In the 15 remaining days of April, she bunked about 6 days, but by informing me. That way I couldn't slice her salary. However, I decided to play tough and point out that if this happened often, I am going to have to cut her pay.
That wasn't all. The balcony, remember? Well, she forgot to sweep it every single day. But didn't forget to silently get angry at how she was taking me for a ride. Oh yes, call me mighty stupid, but I cannot tell beyond point. I don't like to keep nagging. I believe every person should do his job with integrity without having to be told every now and then. The day I reminded, she would do it.
Work wise also I was just not satisfied. Obviously I didn't have any impossible expectations of her cleaning every nook and cranny and under the table and bed stuff. I know that's all a fairy tale, or one has had to have done some punya ka kaam in previous lives to get a bai who does all that! S completed the entire set of work within 7 minutes. She would shift the dust and dirt from one place to another conspicuous place. I remember how once there was one chaii stain on the kitchen floor and how it remained there for days, despite her mopping over it every single day. I would cringe at her work, but kept mum that I had someone do the work for me.
The whole of the above paragraph happened in the first 9 days of May. Because after that-yes, you guessed it right- she was going for a vacation! for full 22 days! And surprise, she was doing me a favour, by giving me a replacement bai.
By now I was fed up and frustrated of living in a dirty home. I had had enough. I told the replacement bai that I wouldn't be needing their services any more.
Since the day I have had to maid-it, I am at peace. Yes I have to wake up early in the morning than I would like to. But as compared to having a bai, early mornings seem worth it!
You might argue why I cannot employ another one, or that why I cannot be stern with them. I just cannot. I am sorry, but I cannot be a nag. And if I have the time to nag around, I might as well do it myself. I don't like to engage in everyday verbal battle. I find it an interference in my time, to give orders , or to remind, or to correct. Not to mention the forever waiting for them to turn up at the right time.
Well, for now I am gloating in my clean house that remains so till I clean it again the next morning.
Monday, 9 June 2014
Day 9 :: Airport Journey
Last year I travelled from Chicago to Mumbai with Aarnavi; who was then 1.5 yrs old; all alone. Now, travelling from US to India in itself is a torturous part, and with a toddler by your side, the torture is almost doubled.
I sighed a relief when we touched down. I was in one piece, my mental state, that is! The immigration officer too was kind and smiled and enquired about the tough journey I had had. I smiled at the change that had undergone with the immigration officers who usually were rude and demeaning to the passengers.
I almost cried tears of happiness when an 'airport assistant' approached me voluntarily to assist me with my baggage and stuff. Yes, those 3-4 garangutan bags each weighing 24 kgs! The assistant waited patiently for almost an hour while I was busy running behind my kid, all the while lugging a 14kg bag on my broken back! As soon as my bags arrived, I only had to point it out to him and he hauled them onto the trolley. Relief is such a small word o describe what I felt!
Alas! the so called relief died down in a matter of few minutes. For the customs scanning, I had to take off my 14 kg bag too, in which I had brought my jewellery. Now jewellery doesn't mean kilos of them. They were my mangalsutra, dharemani(another GSB wedding symbol) and one swarovski chain and earrings. The lady scanning the bag, who seemed perinially disgusted with phoren reetaarns, decided to take up the khunnas on me - the bechaari, worn out woman with a child, who is ready to drop dead at one single authoritative, provocative statement from Her Highness! So this is how the conversation went , all in marathi though
Her (in a disgusted, rude tone) : Medem, you have jewellery in your bag?
Me (ignoring the disgust) : Yes
Her : Show me the bill for the same or pay the custom.
Me (now disgusted and angry) : Pay custom for what? It is my personal jewellery and not even kilos of it that you demand that I pay the custom duty!
Her : (doubling the rude quotient): What is with you US return people?? First you buy so much jewellery, don't keep the billand then we have to face this! Don't you know it is the rule?
Me : (more frustrated now than angry) Rule? Which rule are you talking about? I have travelled to US and back before with the same amount of jewellery, and not once have I been told to show the bill or pay the duty! It is my wedding jewellery. The wedding took place 3 yrs back and you expect me to travel around with its bill? If it is a rule nobody sent me any notice to my US residence that I should know of it.
Her : Medem, it is a rule!
Me : Fine it might be a rule but it needs to be communicated. I have been away from India the whole of previous year and if some rules change here how am I supposed to know and how can you hold me guilty for the same? Let's go to the chief customs officer and if he can clarify I shall gladly pay.
Her : You are holding up the line. You can go this time.
After she gave me her 'permission' to leave, I gather my stuff with the assistant wand walked away. The assistant in turn tells me, this is the routine. They will trouble the passengers for no reason. Saying this he stopped. And so did I and asked him the reason. He says, in full khoofiya style, "Ma'am, paisa idhar hi do."
I didn't get him at first. Then it dawned on me that he was asking me for his 'bakshis'. I pulled out Rs. 200 out of the 500 that I was carrying and handed it out to him.
And he said, "Kya madam, dollar main dene ka tha na." I was baffled at his audacity! I mean seriously! I stared at him like I had seen an alien land before me. I just couldn't say anything. I shook my head and walked out of the gate.
People have wrong perceptions about those returning from the US, rather from any foriegn country. Not everyone who comes back from there is a millionaire. I surely wasn't one! And those 3-4 enormous bags of 24 kgs each? They don't necessarily carry any hotshot electronics or expensive cameras or exotic chocolates or perfumes, or battery operated toys that forever eludes our country mercilessly, unless of course, demanded by relatives and friends! They are clothes, shoes, utensils, documents and other routine life things that one didn't have the heart to throw away in the garbage bin. There might be some boring Ferrero Rochers and Hersheys that, though easily available in India, people still want those staying abroad to bring for them.
I don't know why it gives them kicks to be rude to passengers. One need not be friendly, but is a little courtesy too much to ask for? You, as a passenger probably would not take up a fight either because you are expended after a long journey, or because there is an impending journey before which you don't want to spoil your mood.
I sighed a relief when we touched down. I was in one piece, my mental state, that is! The immigration officer too was kind and smiled and enquired about the tough journey I had had. I smiled at the change that had undergone with the immigration officers who usually were rude and demeaning to the passengers.
I almost cried tears of happiness when an 'airport assistant' approached me voluntarily to assist me with my baggage and stuff. Yes, those 3-4 garangutan bags each weighing 24 kgs! The assistant waited patiently for almost an hour while I was busy running behind my kid, all the while lugging a 14kg bag on my broken back! As soon as my bags arrived, I only had to point it out to him and he hauled them onto the trolley. Relief is such a small word o describe what I felt!
Alas! the so called relief died down in a matter of few minutes. For the customs scanning, I had to take off my 14 kg bag too, in which I had brought my jewellery. Now jewellery doesn't mean kilos of them. They were my mangalsutra, dharemani(another GSB wedding symbol) and one swarovski chain and earrings. The lady scanning the bag, who seemed perinially disgusted with phoren reetaarns, decided to take up the khunnas on me - the bechaari, worn out woman with a child, who is ready to drop dead at one single authoritative, provocative statement from Her Highness! So this is how the conversation went , all in marathi though
Her (in a disgusted, rude tone) : Medem, you have jewellery in your bag?
Me (ignoring the disgust) : Yes
Her : Show me the bill for the same or pay the custom.
Me (now disgusted and angry) : Pay custom for what? It is my personal jewellery and not even kilos of it that you demand that I pay the custom duty!
Her : (doubling the rude quotient): What is with you US return people?? First you buy so much jewellery, don't keep the billand then we have to face this! Don't you know it is the rule?
Me : (more frustrated now than angry) Rule? Which rule are you talking about? I have travelled to US and back before with the same amount of jewellery, and not once have I been told to show the bill or pay the duty! It is my wedding jewellery. The wedding took place 3 yrs back and you expect me to travel around with its bill? If it is a rule nobody sent me any notice to my US residence that I should know of it.
Her : Medem, it is a rule!
Me : Fine it might be a rule but it needs to be communicated. I have been away from India the whole of previous year and if some rules change here how am I supposed to know and how can you hold me guilty for the same? Let's go to the chief customs officer and if he can clarify I shall gladly pay.
Her : You are holding up the line. You can go this time.
After she gave me her 'permission' to leave, I gather my stuff with the assistant wand walked away. The assistant in turn tells me, this is the routine. They will trouble the passengers for no reason. Saying this he stopped. And so did I and asked him the reason. He says, in full khoofiya style, "Ma'am, paisa idhar hi do."
I didn't get him at first. Then it dawned on me that he was asking me for his 'bakshis'. I pulled out Rs. 200 out of the 500 that I was carrying and handed it out to him.
And he said, "Kya madam, dollar main dene ka tha na." I was baffled at his audacity! I mean seriously! I stared at him like I had seen an alien land before me. I just couldn't say anything. I shook my head and walked out of the gate.
People have wrong perceptions about those returning from the US, rather from any foriegn country. Not everyone who comes back from there is a millionaire. I surely wasn't one! And those 3-4 enormous bags of 24 kgs each? They don't necessarily carry any hotshot electronics or expensive cameras or exotic chocolates or perfumes, or battery operated toys that forever eludes our country mercilessly, unless of course, demanded by relatives and friends! They are clothes, shoes, utensils, documents and other routine life things that one didn't have the heart to throw away in the garbage bin. There might be some boring Ferrero Rochers and Hersheys that, though easily available in India, people still want those staying abroad to bring for them.
I don't know why it gives them kicks to be rude to passengers. One need not be friendly, but is a little courtesy too much to ask for? You, as a passenger probably would not take up a fight either because you are expended after a long journey, or because there is an impending journey before which you don't want to spoil your mood.
Wednesday, 6 November 2013
Why I Hate My iPad!
So, I got an Apple iPad as a gift from Kiran for our 3rd wedding anniversary. Roughly 7 months back. No, it isn't as you think. It was a gift, essentially for me and not the husband. It has my FB and my Gmail etc. And the husband asks before he uses it. It is however a different tale with Aa. Whenever she wants it (which is every time I have it in my hands!), she yanks it from me. She screams, cries and throws tantrums till she gets it.
As soon as we got it, we installed many kid friendly apps for her. She enjoyed it too. In fact, 7 months back, she was younger and much more innocent than she is now. She dutifully watched the episode of Mickey Mouse clubhouse and was happy with just that.
I was to come to India all alone with Aa, who was but 1yr 4 months then. I was scared to death. I had no faith in my abilities to be able to take care of her and myself on the long journey. Many advised me that I carry the iPad with me which will keep the kid engaged. This boosted my confidence a bit.
However, it worked to my disadvantage. I was carrying a heavy backpack - food, milk, diapers, wet wipes, extra clothing for Aa and me, medications, 3 passports - 2 mine, 1 Aa's, iPad and Aa. While at the security, Aa would take the iPad and run away. I, along with the backpack and passport dangling in one hand, would catch her and get her back in line. Trying to get her back was not an easy task. Her screams pierced the entire area and every eye turned on me. I was burning with embarrassment (not to mention that heavy backpack adding weight on my already fragile back), when in the process of picking her up with the iPad, I dropped our passports. Now to bend down to pick passports with Aa, iPad, the backpack and my fragile back was impossible. I had to let go of Aa and her iPad.
Aa screamed again as she wasn't then adept at the features of touchscreen. I gathered the passports and hauled Aa too. Thank you for noticing that no one bothered to lend a hand, neither with the kid, nor the iPad or the backpack or my back! And I was in no state to ask for help either. Tears came rolling down - some because my back was killing me and rest because of the extreme humiliation that I felt.
After the security check, I decided I had had enough with the whole dumb thing. I stuffed the iPad into my backpack which was now bursting at seams. The rest of the journey was much much better as Aa behaved.
Problems grew as she did. She has now understood the whole funda of touchscreen and opens my Gmail, Fb, Instagram and Pinterest among other installed stuff. She even plays videos of some hindi songs. She knows there is Youtube and her uploaded videos. Long story short, she navigates through everything on that thin machine! She gets frustrated when it doesn't work as she wants it to. Now how do I explain wi fi connections to her?
Probably since a month back or so, she started using it far too often than she should. Like I said, if not given to her, she would throw tantrums, cry and be unpleasant, which she usually isn't. There were days when she ignored all of her toys - even her favourite ones - and played with the iPad. I hated to see her getting addicted to it. We tried keeping it out of sight, but she demanded her "Paakaa" - that's what she calls it. And we would relent and give it to her instead of facing a big tearful drama, followed by exasperation and spoilt evenings.
It wasn't until some 10 days back that I had had enough. That whole day she had Paakaa on her lap and songs, nursery rhymes, and videos were playing on a loop. It drove me crazy. There was no bargaining either. I do not even believe in bribing my kid. Aa was quiet the whole day, ignored me, her toys, Chota bheem - rather everything was pushed away.
I talked to Kiran and we decided it was time to wean her off iPad. We decided to go cold turkey. (It works very well with Aa. That is how I got rid of her binky habit too). She asked for her Paakaa repeatedly during the day and we told her that kakmaamu (a crow) has taken her Paakaa away and will return tomorrow. She kept asking for 2 days and both days we gave her the same answer. By 3rd day she had forgotten all about that dreaded thing.
We are in much happier place now. We have decided not to use it in front of her. We hide it whenever she is awake and just do not use it, however urgent it may be.
I have never been in favour of introducing technology to kids so early. I was/ am never proud that Aa can handle electronic devices. I hated for letting myself do it when I strongly believe otherwise. I have seen far too many kids who are glued to fancy products. Not just that, I know of a kid who has damaged 2 of his father's smartphones. I did not want my kid to turn out that way.
When I saw that it helped keep my kid engaged while I get my things done, I more than easily gave up my belief. I shouldn't have, but I slipped. However, henceforth I am going to avoid such slip ups. Now, Aa is not allowed to touch Kiran's smartphone. We tell her it is his office stuff and she is not supposed to touch it. It is difficult to keep that hidden from her. She is slowly learning... she tries to touch it and looks at me. One look of disapproval and she goes exploring some other thing.
When I think of it as a parent, I think it is my responsibility to help Aa understand what is a toy and what is not. It is important that she learns why she should respect boundaries and learn the values of things. I have realised that it is never to early to teach kids right from wrong. There is no use reprimanding them for their mistake that we allow them to make.
I agree there are times when even after best care, kids tend to indulge in mischiefs. Like the time Aa chewed at the charging point of the Samsung Tab (when I was busy with some other thing) and rendered it useless!
I do not want Aa to be a slave of technology, like I see many kids today. Even at a social functions, kids as young as 6 borrow their parents smartphones and play games. Unlike, in our times when we would be happy to see another kid of the same age.
I do not know how far I shall be successful in my endeavours. I am hoping to find like minded parents and involve Aa in real play time and friendship.
I wonder if it is as tough as it sounds?
As soon as we got it, we installed many kid friendly apps for her. She enjoyed it too. In fact, 7 months back, she was younger and much more innocent than she is now. She dutifully watched the episode of Mickey Mouse clubhouse and was happy with just that.
I was to come to India all alone with Aa, who was but 1yr 4 months then. I was scared to death. I had no faith in my abilities to be able to take care of her and myself on the long journey. Many advised me that I carry the iPad with me which will keep the kid engaged. This boosted my confidence a bit.
However, it worked to my disadvantage. I was carrying a heavy backpack - food, milk, diapers, wet wipes, extra clothing for Aa and me, medications, 3 passports - 2 mine, 1 Aa's, iPad and Aa. While at the security, Aa would take the iPad and run away. I, along with the backpack and passport dangling in one hand, would catch her and get her back in line. Trying to get her back was not an easy task. Her screams pierced the entire area and every eye turned on me. I was burning with embarrassment (not to mention that heavy backpack adding weight on my already fragile back), when in the process of picking her up with the iPad, I dropped our passports. Now to bend down to pick passports with Aa, iPad, the backpack and my fragile back was impossible. I had to let go of Aa and her iPad.
Aa screamed again as she wasn't then adept at the features of touchscreen. I gathered the passports and hauled Aa too. Thank you for noticing that no one bothered to lend a hand, neither with the kid, nor the iPad or the backpack or my back! And I was in no state to ask for help either. Tears came rolling down - some because my back was killing me and rest because of the extreme humiliation that I felt.
After the security check, I decided I had had enough with the whole dumb thing. I stuffed the iPad into my backpack which was now bursting at seams. The rest of the journey was much much better as Aa behaved.
Problems grew as she did. She has now understood the whole funda of touchscreen and opens my Gmail, Fb, Instagram and Pinterest among other installed stuff. She even plays videos of some hindi songs. She knows there is Youtube and her uploaded videos. Long story short, she navigates through everything on that thin machine! She gets frustrated when it doesn't work as she wants it to. Now how do I explain wi fi connections to her?
Probably since a month back or so, she started using it far too often than she should. Like I said, if not given to her, she would throw tantrums, cry and be unpleasant, which she usually isn't. There were days when she ignored all of her toys - even her favourite ones - and played with the iPad. I hated to see her getting addicted to it. We tried keeping it out of sight, but she demanded her "Paakaa" - that's what she calls it. And we would relent and give it to her instead of facing a big tearful drama, followed by exasperation and spoilt evenings.
It wasn't until some 10 days back that I had had enough. That whole day she had Paakaa on her lap and songs, nursery rhymes, and videos were playing on a loop. It drove me crazy. There was no bargaining either. I do not even believe in bribing my kid. Aa was quiet the whole day, ignored me, her toys, Chota bheem - rather everything was pushed away.
I talked to Kiran and we decided it was time to wean her off iPad. We decided to go cold turkey. (It works very well with Aa. That is how I got rid of her binky habit too). She asked for her Paakaa repeatedly during the day and we told her that kakmaamu (a crow) has taken her Paakaa away and will return tomorrow. She kept asking for 2 days and both days we gave her the same answer. By 3rd day she had forgotten all about that dreaded thing.
We are in much happier place now. We have decided not to use it in front of her. We hide it whenever she is awake and just do not use it, however urgent it may be.
I have never been in favour of introducing technology to kids so early. I was/ am never proud that Aa can handle electronic devices. I hated for letting myself do it when I strongly believe otherwise. I have seen far too many kids who are glued to fancy products. Not just that, I know of a kid who has damaged 2 of his father's smartphones. I did not want my kid to turn out that way.
When I saw that it helped keep my kid engaged while I get my things done, I more than easily gave up my belief. I shouldn't have, but I slipped. However, henceforth I am going to avoid such slip ups. Now, Aa is not allowed to touch Kiran's smartphone. We tell her it is his office stuff and she is not supposed to touch it. It is difficult to keep that hidden from her. She is slowly learning... she tries to touch it and looks at me. One look of disapproval and she goes exploring some other thing.
When I think of it as a parent, I think it is my responsibility to help Aa understand what is a toy and what is not. It is important that she learns why she should respect boundaries and learn the values of things. I have realised that it is never to early to teach kids right from wrong. There is no use reprimanding them for their mistake that we allow them to make.
I agree there are times when even after best care, kids tend to indulge in mischiefs. Like the time Aa chewed at the charging point of the Samsung Tab (when I was busy with some other thing) and rendered it useless!
I do not want Aa to be a slave of technology, like I see many kids today. Even at a social functions, kids as young as 6 borrow their parents smartphones and play games. Unlike, in our times when we would be happy to see another kid of the same age.
I do not know how far I shall be successful in my endeavours. I am hoping to find like minded parents and involve Aa in real play time and friendship.
I wonder if it is as tough as it sounds?
Friday, 19 April 2013
Their "Us" Moment
They were driving back from a get together at a friend's house. The pitter-patter of the raindrops on the windshield was like a rhythm to their year old toddler's continuous babbles.
Suddenly he said something funny which made her laugh.
"I am happy that I can still make you laugh." he said, smiling at her earnestly.
"Mnh-hnn" She smiled back at him, reached for his hand and entwined her fingers in his.
A moment of silence later she responded, "You can make me cry too."
"I was thinking the same. And I am sorry for such times!"
... and just like that, they had their "Us" moment which they hadn't had in a very very long time.
;)
Suddenly he said something funny which made her laugh.
"I am happy that I can still make you laugh." he said, smiling at her earnestly.
"Mnh-hnn" She smiled back at him, reached for his hand and entwined her fingers in his.
A moment of silence later she responded, "You can make me cry too."
"I was thinking the same. And I am sorry for such times!"
... and just like that, they had their "Us" moment which they hadn't had in a very very long time.
;)
Tuesday, 5 February 2013
The Untold Horrors of Breastfeeding
Again let me remind you of some disclaimers
1. Perverts - BUZZ OFF!
2. Breast feeding is a sensitive topic. Some might even consider discussions on the subject, shameless. For what it is worth, I have decided to put away the shame and hence the stigma revolving around this topic.
3. Again, the following is what I experienced. You may have a totally different tale to tell. If you are already a mother AND did not have to face whatever I had to, please do not try to sell me how wrong I am. I know what I went through. If you are a mother to be, I suggest you read and do not obsess over it. This might be an eye-opener and for your mental preparedness.
4. If you are no where near mothering, read for entertainment! Hope it'll help you in your future. What else can I say?
5. If it is some husband reading this, please continue doing so. It'll help you get a better understanding of why your wife might be ready to throw things at you every time you speak. (Or, if she is not preggy yet, you'll know where to come when she gets there)
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I was sent home with strict instructions to strictly breast feed my baby. Formula was to be used only in case the baby wasn't satisfied with the b-milk.
My knowledge about breast feeding was limited to what and how it is shown in the television ads. Let me tell you, that those ads are grossly misleading. They were for me. The pain that I experienced in the hospital during the initial trials of b feeding was supposed to wear off. The milk was supposed to come in and I was supposed to be able to enjoy the whole thing. That was the ideal picture.
Like I said, I was to b feed every time Aa was hungry and not give the formula. This meant that I had to offer b feed much more frequently than I did at the hospital. The feeds were 1.5-2 hrs apart, each session on each side lasting for 15 minutes. All that latching, de-latching, re-latching and unlatching led to some cuts on me. They did not bother in the beginning.
It was at the end of the day that I became sore, red and bruised. The suckling on a raw bruise led me to cry. I would cry throughout the feed. Not only did the bruises keep getting worse during every feed, but also my ability to bear the pain. Imagine a scraping an arm and someone gnawing at the cut at regular interval. Well, this pain was much worse. Post partum women's breasts and nipples are a very very sensitive area.
Anyone who heard of my problem were kind enough to tell me that suffering was a part of the package. This is perhaps the last thing you want to hear from a bunch of ladies who seem to have taken on pregnancy and childbirth by its horns. What would shock me was their standoff-ish attitude and inability to empathize.
Guests had started coming in to stay for Aarnavi's naming ceremony on the thirteenth day. Instead of getting any easier, it was getting more and more difficult for me. The pain would be so unbearable that I couldn't let her finish off the feed, which invited some earful from my mother and my aunt. I wondered how my tears, my clenched fist and teeth failed to communicate to them how much painful it was for me. And, I wondered how my swollen eyes would look to the guests, wondered what would they think might be the reason behind them.
At such times, even a casually spoken comment hurts a lot. Like the time my mother said, if you cry for this pain, I can't imagine if you had had to go for natural birth. All I could think of was, natural birth happens once, but here I am bearing excruciating pain every day at every two hour interval and for god knows how long! It makes you feel like you are the worst mother ever, who cannot bear a simple pain. I started blaming myself for being selfish and thinking about my pain instead of feeding my baby with all that nutrition and immunity booster filled b milk. I couldn't free myself from these on shuffle, on-loop thoughts.
All this was not without drama from my little one. She would howl every time she latched on. She would howl every time I detached her from myself because obviously she was not satisfied. I even tried to express milk manually (tried the pump later) so that at least my scars would heal and my baby would still get what she needs. That did not seem to be working either.
Things got so bad that one day while feeding, my scars on one side bled and my nipple on the other side tore. Not a cut or scrape but a tear! The doctor did prescribe application of ghee and an ointment for the dryness, soreness to go away. None provided relief.
The only person who saw the pain and spoke it out, was my husband. One day he sat next to me, held my hand and cried saying, "I cannot see you going through this." Even though my aunts and my mother might have understood, they used the reverse psychology. My mother believes in firm words instead of soothing touch. I do too. It gives courage. But not this time. This time I did not need courage. I wanted to be let to be weak and break down.
Crying was now my daily routine. I was in tears for both the reasons - for suffering the pain and for not being able to provide for my daughter. The mental torment didn't cease. In addition to that my doc was hell bent on getting the b feeding done.
Well, a major player in the confinement period is the woman who comes for massage et al. She is one knowledgeable doctor who has gathered all that not from books but by experience. Her expert diagnosis told me that my milk wasn't getting expressed in a way that it should and that is why the baby cries so much when I offer her the feed. Of course, being newbie myself, (and do not forget the mind tends to fog at such times) I believed her. And it made sense, since my baby was not getting it as easily, she was trying hard at suckling, which meant more scraping on my nipple.
My mother got another reason to obsess. She started to worry continually on why this was happening. We tried every trick to boost the milk supply. Most suggestions were related to me eating right. Some said I needed to eat rice porridge, some said mutton curry would do the trick. My cousin insisted methi kheer (sweet pudding made of Fenugreek seeds) would help. Still someone else suggested I eat jowar bhakri (flat bread made of Sorghum grain). And of course, the doctor increased the dose of Satavrex (natural galactogogue) added milk from two glasses to three a day. Again none of which worked in a way it was supposed to be. The only thing increasing was my weight and going down was my self esteem.
Seeing no results, my mom started getting tenser by the day. By now, I was totally done with b feeding. I struggled to find that special bond. It was not something I looked forward to. I hated b feeding with gusto! There I said it!
The last straw was when the masseuse commented that I did not try hard enough - I break down soon and bearing pain is not my cup of tea. According to her, I gave up too soon too easily. I was not offended by what she said because it was true. Every person has different tolerance level and perhaps mine is really low. I know I gave it my best shot. I know how much I have wished to be like one of those ladies on the television ad - feeding their baby with a contented look on their face. But no one tried to understand that I wasn't doing it on purpose. No one seemed to care that I wanted to try and failing each time was a resounding slap on my face. The guilt, the shame, the failure coupled with sleep deprivation was stressing me out. And that is perhaps why I wasn't able to give my 100%.
I hated it to an extent that I prayed my milk run dry. I was sick of the physical pain. I was no longer in a position to accept anything said against me. All my efforts to be the ideal mom seemed to take so much of my energy that I stopped enjoying the experience altogether. I thought if only I did not have to b feed! And I couldn't, for the life of me understand why my mother was getting all paranoid about "not enough b milk". The baby was getting some nutrition. Why should I feel guilty? I am not doing anything purposely. Nor was I starving her. If there was an option to b milk, why not adopt it because this fiasco was going nowhere, except put me through pain and keep the baby hungry!
The trials for successful b feeding were still on. On doctor's suggestion we bought silicon nipples to be attached over. They too proved futile. Also with the breast pump I couldn't gather enough milk, although my breast felt pretty heavy and full. This inability to completely empty my breasts gave me a sore spot on one side. It was hard to touch and I feared if it was a formation of a lump. It was backed by fever too. My mom had to experience this and she said it could be a possibility of a lump.
I saw the doctor for confirmation. She said it was not a lump but a breast abscess symptom which has happened due to blocked milk ducts. I was given oral medication to treat it. With that not only did the hardness disappear but also the milk supply to that side. With some pain taken off, I was relieved but I knew better than to let my thoughts be heard.
From that day onward, the b feeding pain went down many notches. Because of the lesser milk supply, I was not obligated to feed for long or so frequently. This gave my cuts time to heal and I had longer breaks in between pains.
By the time Aa turned 3.5 months, the b feeding had completely stopped. Although everyone else seemed to grieve about it, I was feeling happy. My torture had ended. If today I were to choose between a year more of sleepless nights or a month long b feeding, I am ready to sacrifice my sleep.
1. Perverts - BUZZ OFF!
2. Breast feeding is a sensitive topic. Some might even consider discussions on the subject, shameless. For what it is worth, I have decided to put away the shame and hence the stigma revolving around this topic.
3. Again, the following is what I experienced. You may have a totally different tale to tell. If you are already a mother AND did not have to face whatever I had to, please do not try to sell me how wrong I am. I know what I went through. If you are a mother to be, I suggest you read and do not obsess over it. This might be an eye-opener and for your mental preparedness.
4. If you are no where near mothering, read for entertainment! Hope it'll help you in your future. What else can I say?
5. If it is some husband reading this, please continue doing so. It'll help you get a better understanding of why your wife might be ready to throw things at you every time you speak. (Or, if she is not preggy yet, you'll know where to come when she gets there)
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I was sent home with strict instructions to strictly breast feed my baby. Formula was to be used only in case the baby wasn't satisfied with the b-milk.
My knowledge about breast feeding was limited to what and how it is shown in the television ads. Let me tell you, that those ads are grossly misleading. They were for me. The pain that I experienced in the hospital during the initial trials of b feeding was supposed to wear off. The milk was supposed to come in and I was supposed to be able to enjoy the whole thing. That was the ideal picture.
Like I said, I was to b feed every time Aa was hungry and not give the formula. This meant that I had to offer b feed much more frequently than I did at the hospital. The feeds were 1.5-2 hrs apart, each session on each side lasting for 15 minutes. All that latching, de-latching, re-latching and unlatching led to some cuts on me. They did not bother in the beginning.
It was at the end of the day that I became sore, red and bruised. The suckling on a raw bruise led me to cry. I would cry throughout the feed. Not only did the bruises keep getting worse during every feed, but also my ability to bear the pain. Imagine a scraping an arm and someone gnawing at the cut at regular interval. Well, this pain was much worse. Post partum women's breasts and nipples are a very very sensitive area.
Anyone who heard of my problem were kind enough to tell me that suffering was a part of the package. This is perhaps the last thing you want to hear from a bunch of ladies who seem to have taken on pregnancy and childbirth by its horns. What would shock me was their standoff-ish attitude and inability to empathize.
Guests had started coming in to stay for Aarnavi's naming ceremony on the thirteenth day. Instead of getting any easier, it was getting more and more difficult for me. The pain would be so unbearable that I couldn't let her finish off the feed, which invited some earful from my mother and my aunt. I wondered how my tears, my clenched fist and teeth failed to communicate to them how much painful it was for me. And, I wondered how my swollen eyes would look to the guests, wondered what would they think might be the reason behind them.
At such times, even a casually spoken comment hurts a lot. Like the time my mother said, if you cry for this pain, I can't imagine if you had had to go for natural birth. All I could think of was, natural birth happens once, but here I am bearing excruciating pain every day at every two hour interval and for god knows how long! It makes you feel like you are the worst mother ever, who cannot bear a simple pain. I started blaming myself for being selfish and thinking about my pain instead of feeding my baby with all that nutrition and immunity booster filled b milk. I couldn't free myself from these on shuffle, on-loop thoughts.
All this was not without drama from my little one. She would howl every time she latched on. She would howl every time I detached her from myself because obviously she was not satisfied. I even tried to express milk manually (tried the pump later) so that at least my scars would heal and my baby would still get what she needs. That did not seem to be working either.
Things got so bad that one day while feeding, my scars on one side bled and my nipple on the other side tore. Not a cut or scrape but a tear! The doctor did prescribe application of ghee and an ointment for the dryness, soreness to go away. None provided relief.
The only person who saw the pain and spoke it out, was my husband. One day he sat next to me, held my hand and cried saying, "I cannot see you going through this." Even though my aunts and my mother might have understood, they used the reverse psychology. My mother believes in firm words instead of soothing touch. I do too. It gives courage. But not this time. This time I did not need courage. I wanted to be let to be weak and break down.
Crying was now my daily routine. I was in tears for both the reasons - for suffering the pain and for not being able to provide for my daughter. The mental torment didn't cease. In addition to that my doc was hell bent on getting the b feeding done.
Well, a major player in the confinement period is the woman who comes for massage et al. She is one knowledgeable doctor who has gathered all that not from books but by experience. Her expert diagnosis told me that my milk wasn't getting expressed in a way that it should and that is why the baby cries so much when I offer her the feed. Of course, being newbie myself, (and do not forget the mind tends to fog at such times) I believed her. And it made sense, since my baby was not getting it as easily, she was trying hard at suckling, which meant more scraping on my nipple.
My mother got another reason to obsess. She started to worry continually on why this was happening. We tried every trick to boost the milk supply. Most suggestions were related to me eating right. Some said I needed to eat rice porridge, some said mutton curry would do the trick. My cousin insisted methi kheer (sweet pudding made of Fenugreek seeds) would help. Still someone else suggested I eat jowar bhakri (flat bread made of Sorghum grain). And of course, the doctor increased the dose of Satavrex (natural galactogogue) added milk from two glasses to three a day. Again none of which worked in a way it was supposed to be. The only thing increasing was my weight and going down was my self esteem.
Seeing no results, my mom started getting tenser by the day. By now, I was totally done with b feeding. I struggled to find that special bond. It was not something I looked forward to. I hated b feeding with gusto! There I said it!
The last straw was when the masseuse commented that I did not try hard enough - I break down soon and bearing pain is not my cup of tea. According to her, I gave up too soon too easily. I was not offended by what she said because it was true. Every person has different tolerance level and perhaps mine is really low. I know I gave it my best shot. I know how much I have wished to be like one of those ladies on the television ad - feeding their baby with a contented look on their face. But no one tried to understand that I wasn't doing it on purpose. No one seemed to care that I wanted to try and failing each time was a resounding slap on my face. The guilt, the shame, the failure coupled with sleep deprivation was stressing me out. And that is perhaps why I wasn't able to give my 100%.
I hated it to an extent that I prayed my milk run dry. I was sick of the physical pain. I was no longer in a position to accept anything said against me. All my efforts to be the ideal mom seemed to take so much of my energy that I stopped enjoying the experience altogether. I thought if only I did not have to b feed! And I couldn't, for the life of me understand why my mother was getting all paranoid about "not enough b milk". The baby was getting some nutrition. Why should I feel guilty? I am not doing anything purposely. Nor was I starving her. If there was an option to b milk, why not adopt it because this fiasco was going nowhere, except put me through pain and keep the baby hungry!
The trials for successful b feeding were still on. On doctor's suggestion we bought silicon nipples to be attached over. They too proved futile. Also with the breast pump I couldn't gather enough milk, although my breast felt pretty heavy and full. This inability to completely empty my breasts gave me a sore spot on one side. It was hard to touch and I feared if it was a formation of a lump. It was backed by fever too. My mom had to experience this and she said it could be a possibility of a lump.
I saw the doctor for confirmation. She said it was not a lump but a breast abscess symptom which has happened due to blocked milk ducts. I was given oral medication to treat it. With that not only did the hardness disappear but also the milk supply to that side. With some pain taken off, I was relieved but I knew better than to let my thoughts be heard.
From that day onward, the b feeding pain went down many notches. Because of the lesser milk supply, I was not obligated to feed for long or so frequently. This gave my cuts time to heal and I had longer breaks in between pains.
By the time Aa turned 3.5 months, the b feeding had completely stopped. Although everyone else seemed to grieve about it, I was feeling happy. My torture had ended. If today I were to choose between a year more of sleepless nights or a month long b feeding, I am ready to sacrifice my sleep.
Monday, 28 January 2013
Motherhood - The Beginning
Previously written Pregnancy - Finding out, Pregnancy - Middle Ground, Pregnancy - The Last Leg and The Awaited Childbirth
It took me few hours to come out of the heavily induced sleep. That day, I did not get to hold my baby at all. Anyway she was asleep for most of the day.
That night I got the shock of my life. My girl decided to turn on her lung power. The screeching was only too loud for the small room. Her cry seemed to resonate throughout the hospital. I was worried and a bit embarrassed too. My mother was with me and she called in the nurse. It was time for her night feed. It was just an hour and a half, when we experienced another wail. This time it was soiled diaper. The nurse came up again and gave a refreshers course to my mom on how to hold, handle, change and wrap the baby. The cries continued at an interval of 30 minutes to an hour, depending upon the situation. I still had all the pipes and IVs in me; hence I was only an immobile observer of this night scene.
I was getting frustrated being so tied down. I could hardly move. And in spite of the IV, I was feeling hungry. The nurses said it was impossible, but truly I could feel my stomach growling and I wanted something solid to keep it in. Not to mention the added irritation of not being able to hold my little one being unable to sit up.
On the third day, I was made to sit up and walk around. Thankfully, I did not pass out. Maybe it was my keenness to be able to be mobile again, but I didn't feel faint or didn't stagger my steps. I had a lot of heaviness where I was cut and stitched up. Though there was no pain. I walked over to my baby and took her in my arms. The moment was surreal. Till then, anytime I wanted to be near her, my mom would bring her and let me see her from close quarters.
I was, however, given strict instructions not to sit for too long and strain myself. It was also the day I would begin breast feeding. I was looking forward to it and all that famous "special bond" thing. What I encountered was excruciating pain, soreness and heaviness. All this while I was thinking, rather made to believe that breast milk starts coming in as soon as you deliver. But things seem to be different with the C section cases. It is said that the contractions trigger the milk glands and hence your body gets a clue to supply milk. In my case, I never felt a single contraction.
The nurses came in to aide in the feeding. While one was teaching me how to hold the baby so that she latches on the right way, the other one was educating me on how to massage the chest in order to effectively express milk. Although the entire thing seemed to go the wrong way, the nurses insisted that I keep doing it till the baby latches on properly. They were sure that it would get easier with every feed.
My baby had no problem latching on. It was the lack of milk supply that made her scream. It was an equal nightmare for me (and for many days to follow) that I was getting bruised each time she latched on and tried to suckle.
I was still not flexible or fast and wasn't even allowed to be. That night when my mother cleaned her up again after a potty episode, I cried. I was much too obligated and felt like a burden to my mother. There she was, doing everything for me and the baby and I was hardly even helping. I stood there and cried as I watched my mother do what she did so swiftly.
You feel bad when you can't do what you would have given anything to do. Like holding the baby, rocking her to sleep and even changing potty diapers for numerous times. It felt like I am missing on some precious moments. And from being so lean and bouncy to suddenly feeling tied down and heavy, emotions were on the loose!
The fourth day was as good as the previous ones. We both howled during the breastfeeding sessions; each one louder than the other! There was no pain, either the stitches or the cut, but a lot of heaviness. It felt like my bottom half had suddenly transformed into lead. I needed assistance to get up and down from the bed.
The whole day the baby slept and being alone, I would be worried. How can this girl sleep so soundlessly during the day when at night time she is a banshee? Isn't she hungry? I used to get scared that something has happened to her and would summon the nurses citing one reason or the other to check up on her.
As the clock struck 11 PM, she would start all over again, which is when I would wonder why she couldn't save the drama for during daytime when there was ample background noise to mask her screeches and everyone was wide awake and had the energy to deal with her!
Formula feeding was left to the nurses as they were used to feeding babies as small as she. They would always come by sleepy eyed and we would worry constantly if she was feeding correctly. My mother kept them awake by chatting about sundry details of their life.
I was supposed to be discharged on the sixth day. I was already getting bored staring the walls and being confined in such a small space. I wondered if they would let me go any sooner.
The next day, when my gyn came for the routine visit, I placed my humble request before her and she gave me a thumbs up. She said everything looked fine and I could be going home that evening. I was elated. I called up my mom and told her that I was ready to be home. She panicked as she was not expecting me until the next day. She was planning to cleaning our room, take out some old baby stuff and get the room baby friendly.
... will be continued
It took me few hours to come out of the heavily induced sleep. That day, I did not get to hold my baby at all. Anyway she was asleep for most of the day.
That night I got the shock of my life. My girl decided to turn on her lung power. The screeching was only too loud for the small room. Her cry seemed to resonate throughout the hospital. I was worried and a bit embarrassed too. My mother was with me and she called in the nurse. It was time for her night feed. It was just an hour and a half, when we experienced another wail. This time it was soiled diaper. The nurse came up again and gave a refreshers course to my mom on how to hold, handle, change and wrap the baby. The cries continued at an interval of 30 minutes to an hour, depending upon the situation. I still had all the pipes and IVs in me; hence I was only an immobile observer of this night scene.
I was getting frustrated being so tied down. I could hardly move. And in spite of the IV, I was feeling hungry. The nurses said it was impossible, but truly I could feel my stomach growling and I wanted something solid to keep it in. Not to mention the added irritation of not being able to hold my little one being unable to sit up.
On the third day, I was made to sit up and walk around. Thankfully, I did not pass out. Maybe it was my keenness to be able to be mobile again, but I didn't feel faint or didn't stagger my steps. I had a lot of heaviness where I was cut and stitched up. Though there was no pain. I walked over to my baby and took her in my arms. The moment was surreal. Till then, anytime I wanted to be near her, my mom would bring her and let me see her from close quarters.
I was, however, given strict instructions not to sit for too long and strain myself. It was also the day I would begin breast feeding. I was looking forward to it and all that famous "special bond" thing. What I encountered was excruciating pain, soreness and heaviness. All this while I was thinking, rather made to believe that breast milk starts coming in as soon as you deliver. But things seem to be different with the C section cases. It is said that the contractions trigger the milk glands and hence your body gets a clue to supply milk. In my case, I never felt a single contraction.
The nurses came in to aide in the feeding. While one was teaching me how to hold the baby so that she latches on the right way, the other one was educating me on how to massage the chest in order to effectively express milk. Although the entire thing seemed to go the wrong way, the nurses insisted that I keep doing it till the baby latches on properly. They were sure that it would get easier with every feed.
My baby had no problem latching on. It was the lack of milk supply that made her scream. It was an equal nightmare for me (and for many days to follow) that I was getting bruised each time she latched on and tried to suckle.
I was still not flexible or fast and wasn't even allowed to be. That night when my mother cleaned her up again after a potty episode, I cried. I was much too obligated and felt like a burden to my mother. There she was, doing everything for me and the baby and I was hardly even helping. I stood there and cried as I watched my mother do what she did so swiftly.
You feel bad when you can't do what you would have given anything to do. Like holding the baby, rocking her to sleep and even changing potty diapers for numerous times. It felt like I am missing on some precious moments. And from being so lean and bouncy to suddenly feeling tied down and heavy, emotions were on the loose!
The fourth day was as good as the previous ones. We both howled during the breastfeeding sessions; each one louder than the other! There was no pain, either the stitches or the cut, but a lot of heaviness. It felt like my bottom half had suddenly transformed into lead. I needed assistance to get up and down from the bed.
The whole day the baby slept and being alone, I would be worried. How can this girl sleep so soundlessly during the day when at night time she is a banshee? Isn't she hungry? I used to get scared that something has happened to her and would summon the nurses citing one reason or the other to check up on her.
As the clock struck 11 PM, she would start all over again, which is when I would wonder why she couldn't save the drama for during daytime when there was ample background noise to mask her screeches and everyone was wide awake and had the energy to deal with her!
Formula feeding was left to the nurses as they were used to feeding babies as small as she. They would always come by sleepy eyed and we would worry constantly if she was feeding correctly. My mother kept them awake by chatting about sundry details of their life.
I was supposed to be discharged on the sixth day. I was already getting bored staring the walls and being confined in such a small space. I wondered if they would let me go any sooner.
The next day, when my gyn came for the routine visit, I placed my humble request before her and she gave me a thumbs up. She said everything looked fine and I could be going home that evening. I was elated. I called up my mom and told her that I was ready to be home. She panicked as she was not expecting me until the next day. She was planning to cleaning our room, take out some old baby stuff and get the room baby friendly.
... will be continued
Saturday, 26 January 2013
The Awaited Childbirth
I was done with the pregnancy thing and all I wanted was the extra weight off me. Hence, more than being scared for the C-section, I was looking forward to it. That said I was a wee bit disappointed too since I have had not a scar on me. Somewhere in me I didn't want the C-section to happen.
I got admitted the night before. I demanded Kiran be with me for that and chose him over my mother. That was the night we would get to spend "only the two of us". God only knows when we'll be able to do that again. Anyway, my parents left me and my husband and promised to be there at 6 AM. (My operation was scheduled at 7 AM)
The nurse took me away for a quick check of my blood pressure, weight and baby's heart beat. For the record, I weighed 68 kgs, and my blood pressure was normal. I asked her if the OT was ready for tomorrow and would I be able to take a look at it. She took me in with a firm warning not to touch anything as everything was sterilized. She gave me a nice little tour. "This is the operating table where you'll be tomorrow. These are the instruments which they are gonna use on you." I loved the display, just like a chef would, there was a variety of scissors and knifes and blades. Sorry for the lack of correct medical terms for them. And there was a shelf full of small vials which were medicines supposed to be used in case anything went wrong. I hoped they didn't have to use it during my procedure!
Before I turned in for the night, the nurse reminded me that I could not eat anything after 12 AM; not even water.
Despite the calm environment, I almost did not sleep the whole night. It was the first time that I was ever sleeping in a hospital as a patient. The bed was also creaking. And the anxiety of being face to face with my baby was overwhelming.
On the D-day, the nurse came in to wake us up and got some hot water for my bath. The nurse started to get me ready for the OT. Again, my weight, BP and baby's heartbeat was checked. Everything was within the normal range. I was to wear the hospital gown, get an enema and head to the OT soon after. That was the plan.
After the enema, I came to know that the anesthesiologist was not in yet. I was made to sit in my room. My parents came along with another family friends. It was past 7 AM by then. Everyone tried to make this small awkward talk, which made me want to throw up. Everyone was deliberately trying to take my mind off the impending operation thinking I was scared. If only they knew that I would be racing to the OT! I wanted them to keep mum but they continued. It was almost 8 AM when they decided to escort me in. It was in that moment that my mom remembered something numerological and told me to write 24 on my palm. She believes that it helps in the task getting done successfully. Don't ask me.
The moment was unreal. All those 9 months flashed before me. That journey which in theory seemed long had suddenly shrunk. I was assisted to the operating table. One nurse velcro-ed my right arm and attached a pin on my index finger and informed me that would be monitoring my BP through out. The anesthesiologist came in, introduced herself and asked me if I was scared of needles. She inserted the IV in my left wrist. I was all wired up.
Meanwhile, my gyn and her husband came in. While my gyn was getting in her scrubs, her husband started chatting with me. With the help of some nurses they made me sit up again and asked me to bend forward as much as I could manage.
"Are you scared?", he asked.
"No. I just want this to get over."
"I thought so. Your face says it all."
I jerked suddenly as the nurse applied the cold spirit on my back. Sadly for that reaction of mine, the nurse had to bear the wrath of the doctor. "You should always let the patient know what you are doing to them. Do not ever catch them unawares." He turns to me and says "Our everyday routine. Don't mind!"
He saw the number 24 written on my left palm and asked me about it. He was amused that my mom believed in it!
I was to get 2 needles in my back. He told me that the needle was small and I shouldn't feel more than like an ant bite. Truly, it didn't feel much - the first one that is. The second one was a bit rough.
The moment they pricked me, everything started to gain momentum. I could feel my legs going numb. I was covered from stomach down. The anesthesiologist inserted the urinary catherter. Another nurse held the oxygen mask above my mouth and told me to breath normally. The doctor patted my legs and asked me if I felt anything. By now, I was a little foggy. I was awake but not clear minded. I could hear the doctors making their conversation. My gyn told the pediatrician about the non-kicking incident.
I could see them passing the instrument and working on my bump. I hardly felt anything, hence I imagined their procedure. I was too scared to talk. I didn't want them cutting some other internal organ of mine due to distraction.
Within minutes, I felt pressure in my stomach. I couldn't really feel anything, but I could feel a lot of moving and shaking. I saw the nurse take away my baby. She did not cry as soon as she was out.
I asked, "Is it done?"
"Yes it is, dear."
"So?"
"So what did you want?"
"I wanted a girl and husband wanted a boy."
"Well, congratulations. You won."
Just at that moment, we all heard her first cry ever.
In a few minutes, a nurse brought my baby to me all wrapped up. She was chubby, pink and was fluttering her eyes at me. I kissed her and they took her to her dad.
You should sleep now, said the anesthesiologist. "Do you think I can, after seeing my baby?"
"Oh, of course you will. Right after this shot." And I was given the sleep inducing shot. I was quickly drifting off to sleep. For the fear of embarrassment, I was trying to pull my hand free from the doctor who was now explaining the 24 number logic to everyone present in the OT.
After that I have no recollection of how I was wheeled into my room or shifted on to the bed. I have a faint memory of my parents telling me that everything went well. When I came to again, Kiran was with me. My right foot was paining by being in the same position. I needed help in repositioning it. I did not trust my husband at that moment. I demanded him to call my mother, who had gone home to fix lunch. I was adamant to see her.
From that night, began my journey of true motherhood - sleepless nights, screaming infant, painful feeding time and lots and lots of frustration.
... will be continued.
Friday, 25 January 2013
Pregnancy - The Last Leg
Previously written Pregnancy - Finding out and Pregnancy - Middle Ground
After what seemed like ages, the day finally dawned when I had my near and dear ones beside me. The baby shower was fun with nearly a hundred people attending. I know, too many people for a baby shower, but that's how it is with my FIL. The very next day we were supposed to come to Pune. As much as I felt bad leaving my in-laws place, I was excited to be at my hometown after a year and half. Who isn't?
We were to see my final gyn the next day of arrival. The visit was as expected full of do's and don'ts. This time however, I had to undergo an internal examination. Everything went well, specially the part where she told me I could eat whatever I wished to and if anything went wrong she'd be there to straighten me out. Yes, she ok-ed my cravings for roadside chats and stall chinese.
I also had a USG, where the doctor said that the baby is already head down position which is a good sign. The baby had a boost in her growth and development and my EDD jumped up to 9th January 2012.
My next visit to the doc as well as the USG wasn't until December first week. I used this time to gorge upon wonderful Pune food and mom made stuff. I did not mind getting fat, which I wasn't. People would comment on how small my bump is considering that I was already in my 8th month. I could easily pass off as non-pregnant if I wore a fairly loose fitting tee.
This month, I had to undergo the Indirect Coombs Test when I mentioned about the conflicting Rh factors. Thankfully, the results were not scary.
The 9th month was a twister. There were so many sudden changes in me. All those easy earlier months were now a fantasy.
This trip to ultrasound said that my baby had two loops of umbilical cord around the neck. It also stated that the baby is in an oblique position. Thirdly, the baby's head was bigger than what they usually encounter, which could make natural birth difficult for me, given the small size of my pelvis. But my EDD has jumped again to 5th January 2012.
As soon as I saw my gyn knit her eyebrows, I knew she had some bad news. She did say that we had a whole month to go and sometimes babies tumble and free themselves of the cord. However, she still reminded me about the baby's head and my relatively small pelvis frame. Here she hinted at a possibility of C-section delivery, which I wasn't too happy to hear.
Henceforth, I was supposed to see her on weekly basis.
The next week's appointment was a disaster. My weight had not increased and I was shouted at. I have no clue how that happened, since I was merrily gulping away anything in sight, even at the dead of the night. The baby was still oblique, and I was sent off for another ultrasound. This time the results revealed that the loops were tighter around the baby's neck and I was constricted to bed rest for the remaining of my pregnant days. I was advised to get out of the bed only for bathroom visits, so strict was it! That was such a bad news for me since my best friend's wedding reception was round the corner and I could never have missed it for anything. Not when I was in the same town.
Babies kick harder and more frequently soon after you've had something to eat. This particular night, mine was silent. Usually she'd wreck a havoc in there. I assumed she was sleeping. The next morning when I had my breakfast, again there were no kicks or motion. I still gave it some time.(Kiran was getting ready to go for his office picnic that day). When there was still no hearing from the baby after half an hour, I started to panic and called my gyn at 7 AM. She asked me to give it some time, eat some more and if I still don't feel the baby moving, I should see her. I realised that there were no baby kicks even when I was up for my midnight snack.
None of that seemed to work. Kiran cancelled his picnic plans and we raced to the hospital. He was panic stricken. Although my mother was trying to bring calm to both of us, I could see that she was distraught too.
As soon as we reached there, the doc checked for baby's heart beat. At first, all they got was my heart beats, and baby's were no where to be found. The doc ordered for another machine to be brought instantly. Still none.
Then she held my bump and gave it a firm shake. She started pushing from the four corners vigorously and I felt that familiar kick. I almost shouted "Doc, the baby kicked!" I had tears in my eyes when the kicking began all over again. I didn't mind the knock on my sides nor the thump in my ribs.
She said that the baby probably was having a long siesta and if I were to experience that again, I should rush to her immediately.
Even though I was on complete bed rest, I had to suffer aches and pains every now and the. I had sciatic nerve ache in my left side, which would shoot down my left leg. And since the baby was oblique (head resting on my right side) I had nerve pain in my right leg too. Night times were difficult, as I was not supposed to sleep on my back and I couldn't sleep on my left or the right because of the nerve pinches.
It was tough to get through the day. How much can one lie down? Not to mention the scary night times. By now, the doctor had convinced me that I had 90% chances of getting a C-section delivery. I was told that if my water broke, or if I felt any contractions, I was to head to the hospital for an emergency C-section.
I was at the end of my 9th month, when I had a last ultrasound - colour doppler test, which determines the blood flow to the fetus. There was now one loop around the baby's neck and she was still oblique. Thanks to my bed rest, she had not descended into the pelvic cavity. My EDD jumped yet again to 2nd January 2012.
This gyn visit confirmed the C section and she asked me to give her a date anytime after the 28th December, because I'd have then completed 9 months. I wanted my baby born in the new year and hence I said 1st January would be it. Since 1st fell on a Sunday, she said I might be operated post noon. Staying empty stomach till noon is not my cup of tea, and hence I shifted the date to the 2nd, early morning.
*P.S. I was able to attend my best friend's reception. I got an ok from the gyn to scurry away for a few hours.
... to be continued
After what seemed like ages, the day finally dawned when I had my near and dear ones beside me. The baby shower was fun with nearly a hundred people attending. I know, too many people for a baby shower, but that's how it is with my FIL. The very next day we were supposed to come to Pune. As much as I felt bad leaving my in-laws place, I was excited to be at my hometown after a year and half. Who isn't?
We were to see my final gyn the next day of arrival. The visit was as expected full of do's and don'ts. This time however, I had to undergo an internal examination. Everything went well, specially the part where she told me I could eat whatever I wished to and if anything went wrong she'd be there to straighten me out. Yes, she ok-ed my cravings for roadside chats and stall chinese.
I also had a USG, where the doctor said that the baby is already head down position which is a good sign. The baby had a boost in her growth and development and my EDD jumped up to 9th January 2012.
My next visit to the doc as well as the USG wasn't until December first week. I used this time to gorge upon wonderful Pune food and mom made stuff. I did not mind getting fat, which I wasn't. People would comment on how small my bump is considering that I was already in my 8th month. I could easily pass off as non-pregnant if I wore a fairly loose fitting tee.
This month, I had to undergo the Indirect Coombs Test when I mentioned about the conflicting Rh factors. Thankfully, the results were not scary.
The 9th month was a twister. There were so many sudden changes in me. All those easy earlier months were now a fantasy.
This trip to ultrasound said that my baby had two loops of umbilical cord around the neck. It also stated that the baby is in an oblique position. Thirdly, the baby's head was bigger than what they usually encounter, which could make natural birth difficult for me, given the small size of my pelvis. But my EDD has jumped again to 5th January 2012.
As soon as I saw my gyn knit her eyebrows, I knew she had some bad news. She did say that we had a whole month to go and sometimes babies tumble and free themselves of the cord. However, she still reminded me about the baby's head and my relatively small pelvis frame. Here she hinted at a possibility of C-section delivery, which I wasn't too happy to hear.
Henceforth, I was supposed to see her on weekly basis.
The next week's appointment was a disaster. My weight had not increased and I was shouted at. I have no clue how that happened, since I was merrily gulping away anything in sight, even at the dead of the night. The baby was still oblique, and I was sent off for another ultrasound. This time the results revealed that the loops were tighter around the baby's neck and I was constricted to bed rest for the remaining of my pregnant days. I was advised to get out of the bed only for bathroom visits, so strict was it! That was such a bad news for me since my best friend's wedding reception was round the corner and I could never have missed it for anything. Not when I was in the same town.
Babies kick harder and more frequently soon after you've had something to eat. This particular night, mine was silent. Usually she'd wreck a havoc in there. I assumed she was sleeping. The next morning when I had my breakfast, again there were no kicks or motion. I still gave it some time.(Kiran was getting ready to go for his office picnic that day). When there was still no hearing from the baby after half an hour, I started to panic and called my gyn at 7 AM. She asked me to give it some time, eat some more and if I still don't feel the baby moving, I should see her. I realised that there were no baby kicks even when I was up for my midnight snack.
None of that seemed to work. Kiran cancelled his picnic plans and we raced to the hospital. He was panic stricken. Although my mother was trying to bring calm to both of us, I could see that she was distraught too.
As soon as we reached there, the doc checked for baby's heart beat. At first, all they got was my heart beats, and baby's were no where to be found. The doc ordered for another machine to be brought instantly. Still none.
Then she held my bump and gave it a firm shake. She started pushing from the four corners vigorously and I felt that familiar kick. I almost shouted "Doc, the baby kicked!" I had tears in my eyes when the kicking began all over again. I didn't mind the knock on my sides nor the thump in my ribs.
She said that the baby probably was having a long siesta and if I were to experience that again, I should rush to her immediately.
Even though I was on complete bed rest, I had to suffer aches and pains every now and the. I had sciatic nerve ache in my left side, which would shoot down my left leg. And since the baby was oblique (head resting on my right side) I had nerve pain in my right leg too. Night times were difficult, as I was not supposed to sleep on my back and I couldn't sleep on my left or the right because of the nerve pinches.
It was tough to get through the day. How much can one lie down? Not to mention the scary night times. By now, the doctor had convinced me that I had 90% chances of getting a C-section delivery. I was told that if my water broke, or if I felt any contractions, I was to head to the hospital for an emergency C-section.
I was at the end of my 9th month, when I had a last ultrasound - colour doppler test, which determines the blood flow to the fetus. There was now one loop around the baby's neck and she was still oblique. Thanks to my bed rest, she had not descended into the pelvic cavity. My EDD jumped yet again to 2nd January 2012.
This gyn visit confirmed the C section and she asked me to give her a date anytime after the 28th December, because I'd have then completed 9 months. I wanted my baby born in the new year and hence I said 1st January would be it. Since 1st fell on a Sunday, she said I might be operated post noon. Staying empty stomach till noon is not my cup of tea, and hence I shifted the date to the 2nd, early morning.
*P.S. I was able to attend my best friend's reception. I got an ok from the gyn to scurry away for a few hours.
... to be continued
Thursday, 24 January 2013
Pregnancy - The Middle ground
Previously written Pregnancy - Finding out
After having gone through the mad hormonal days, I expected normal days where I wouldn't be so fragile - emotionally as well as physically. What I did not see coming was a huge blow by the jet lag. When I'd previously flown from India to US, I'd gotten used to the time change within 2-3 days. However, this time around, we used to be wide awake at night and sleep through the day. Kiran was supposed to resume his office here in 7 days, which meant he did not necessarily have to battle out the lag. We would scurry into the kitchen and find something for us to eat at 2 AM. However discreet we were, my mother in law was always up. She was kind enough to fix us something to eat at that hour. The rest of the night would be spent watching NatGeo channel. We would drift off to sleep at 7 AM, wake up briefly for lunch, gulp down everything sleepily and then hit the sack again.
I had a very bad time with my jet lag which lasted a whole month long.
We scheduled an appointment with a gyn there who suggested that I get an USG done as I had flown quite a distance. This time at the ultrasound, we saw our baby. A miniature human figure, moving its hands, legs and tiny head. This week we were to have the Nuchal Test to test for any abnormalities. The doc who was performing the USG was quiet for some time. Then he began clicking his tongue, then he said something to his helper in Kannada which I obviously did not understand. I began to worry if anything was wrong with the baby. Even after asking him 2-3 times he did not say anything.
Finally when I pressed him, he said, he is waiting for the baby to change position so that he could get a good view of her nape! I breathed a sigh of relief when I understood the cause for his worry lines.
My second trimester was a happy place. My wonderful in-laws were taking good care of me. I got to enjoy the feasts and festivals of our native place which I had always missed due to one reason or the other. The baby and my weight was growing as was necessary. I also got a chance to live with my aunt (who is close by) for a few days.
On the down side, I was missing Kiran a lot. To add to it, our timing to call each other was always wrong. Either that or we didn't have enough privacy for a nice cozy chat. We had a few mis-communication problems, of which arose some misunderstandings and fights. Those were some trying days. *It is not a good idea to stay apart during pregnancy.*
In a few days, my in laws started discussing about having my baby shower. I was least interested in the beginning. But when I heard that Kiran could come earlier than expected and be there for my function, I was on cloud nine.
... will be continued tomorrow
After having gone through the mad hormonal days, I expected normal days where I wouldn't be so fragile - emotionally as well as physically. What I did not see coming was a huge blow by the jet lag. When I'd previously flown from India to US, I'd gotten used to the time change within 2-3 days. However, this time around, we used to be wide awake at night and sleep through the day. Kiran was supposed to resume his office here in 7 days, which meant he did not necessarily have to battle out the lag. We would scurry into the kitchen and find something for us to eat at 2 AM. However discreet we were, my mother in law was always up. She was kind enough to fix us something to eat at that hour. The rest of the night would be spent watching NatGeo channel. We would drift off to sleep at 7 AM, wake up briefly for lunch, gulp down everything sleepily and then hit the sack again.
I had a very bad time with my jet lag which lasted a whole month long.
We scheduled an appointment with a gyn there who suggested that I get an USG done as I had flown quite a distance. This time at the ultrasound, we saw our baby. A miniature human figure, moving its hands, legs and tiny head. This week we were to have the Nuchal Test to test for any abnormalities. The doc who was performing the USG was quiet for some time. Then he began clicking his tongue, then he said something to his helper in Kannada which I obviously did not understand. I began to worry if anything was wrong with the baby. Even after asking him 2-3 times he did not say anything.
Finally when I pressed him, he said, he is waiting for the baby to change position so that he could get a good view of her nape! I breathed a sigh of relief when I understood the cause for his worry lines.
My second trimester was a happy place. My wonderful in-laws were taking good care of me. I got to enjoy the feasts and festivals of our native place which I had always missed due to one reason or the other. The baby and my weight was growing as was necessary. I also got a chance to live with my aunt (who is close by) for a few days.
On the down side, I was missing Kiran a lot. To add to it, our timing to call each other was always wrong. Either that or we didn't have enough privacy for a nice cozy chat. We had a few mis-communication problems, of which arose some misunderstandings and fights. Those were some trying days. *It is not a good idea to stay apart during pregnancy.*
In a few days, my in laws started discussing about having my baby shower. I was least interested in the beginning. But when I heard that Kiran could come earlier than expected and be there for my function, I was on cloud nine.
... will be continued tomorrow
Wednesday, 23 January 2013
Pregnancy - The finding out
Disclaimer:
Like Namratha says, this is not for the faint hearted. Or even those who are not yet ready to be mothers - especially mentally.
This post doesn't mean to scare anyone off pregnancy or child birth. I just hope this helps and provides directions to those who might feel a bit overwhelmed or lost in the whole process.
In no way is this post, and the series of them following soon after, are meant to serve as prescription for your pregnancy related symptoms/ problems. I might include some techniques or solutions that worked for me. It doesn't mean they will help you.
Each and every thing that I have mentioned here is what I went through. It may not be up to the pregnancy-industry standard, but this exactly what happened to me.
I have mentioned bits and pieces of my pregnancy every now and then in this blog. So you may find somethings repetitive.
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The point where a pregnancy begins is a euphoric one. It was for me when I could so much as gather my thoughts and let the feeling sink in that I am now going to be a mother.
When two blue lines confirmed my pregnancy, that was all I had to remind myself that I was not one now. I had no other symptoms other than a missed period. I wasn't feeling nauseated, I wasn't puking at the sight of food, nor did I see any significant change in my weight. These are the basic things you hear of a pregnant woman. I was elated at how easy my pregnancy would turn out to be with no signs.
I must say at this point that I had a lot of misconceptions and myths about pregnancy and a pregnant All of which were busted.
As soon as I got the positive test result, we decided to go for a gynecologist visit, which is scheduled when one is 9 weeks pregnant. Accordingly, an appointment was scheduled that included an ultrasound too.
After we filled a form that seemed endlessly listing histories of any genetic disease or mutations and allergies and sundry, I was sent for the USG. I had googled up on the images of a 9 weeks old fetus. I was expecting to see a small form of a human body. The USG technician squinted at the screen and said, "You are no more than 6 weeks pregnant. There is nothing to see. Your baby is smaller than a grain of rice" I was shocked, for according to my calculations, I should have been 9 weeks already.
When we saw the doctor, and she heard my case, she said it might be due to delayed ovulation, which is pretty common and nothing to be worried about. Hence, my Estimated Due Date (EDD) which was initially January 5th, 2012, was pushed to January 17th, 2012.
Then after that we again discussed if we had any health issues or any other concerns. I did have some. My blood group is Rh negative and Kiran's is Rh positive. Now, I was told earlier by my sis-in-law that a positive-negative combination could be something that needs to be looked into. It was indeed the case. The doctor said that in some cases, the mother's blood can mix with that of the fetus', and having two different Rh factors could cause a problem. I was advised to call the doctor immediately if I bled anytime during the pregnancy. Having that in mind, every time that I would go to the bathroom, I had chills.
The gynec then inquired if I had any morning sickness. When I answered in negative, she congratulated me saying I may be one of the few ones who sail through the 9 months. We came out of the doctors office with smiling faces.
Soon after that, we were to attend a send off party for one of our close friends who were leaving for India. It was a potluck dinner and we had offered to bring in some chicken curry. That day, since morning, I'd been feeling queasy. Thus, Kiran took the responsibility of preparing the dish. It was around 6 PM when he was done with the cooking. He asked me how it smelt. And I said "It is yuck!" Literally. Kiran felt offended and I was not sure why because I was telling the absolute truth.
By now, I was also feeling a bit feverish. And I wanted that offensive stench out of my house. I could sense something had gone wrong in me. I wanted Kiran to skip the dinner and stay with me. However, the dinner couldn't be missed as they were one of our close friends.
When he stepped out, I started feeling anxious for no reason. I am pretty used to being home alone. This time, however, I was ill at ease. Not knowing how to deal with this funny feeling, I called up my mother who was in Singapore at that time to be with N, my sister in law, who was expecting her second child. The moment I heard her voice, my tears started to flow. As much as I wanted to stay strong and not cry, I found myself blubbering on the phone saying "Something is happening to me. I don't know what and no one is here with me." Hearing me collapse in such a way, my mother got emotional for not being here with me. N took over and told me in firm voice that all this is bound to happen and that I have to get myself together, walk over to the fridge and pour myself some cold orange juice. She heard me out, empathized and scolded a bit. That seemed to bring back some courage in me. Only, I hardly knew that was just a mark of a beginning of a whole new innings of suffering.
From that day on, I started feeling tired. From the moment I woke up to the time I went to bed, I was tired. It began with that consistent pain in the whole body that you experience when you have flu. As the days progressed, that exhaustion just grew and grew and grew to the extent that I couldn't get out of my bed. I lay in my bed the whole day, not eating, not showering, because I had no strength nor the courage to pull myself up on my feet for any activity. I could barely even gather enough energy to speak to my mom. I lied about the net and our phone lines being down, just to avoid confrontation with her. I did not want to worry her further.
The days I did find my feet walking toward the kitchen to fix some lunch, they retracted at the myriad combination of smells around the house. My nose could sense every damn smell all the same time - the incense stick, the deo, the curry, the garbage!
I was surviving on a cup of milk, almonds and banana. I couldn't tolerate anything else.
Every evening, correctly at 5 PM, I would start to feel uncomfortable in my stomach. That feeling would last throughout the evening. Each day Kiran came home to a pitiful me. Seeing him, I would burst into tears. I used to feel relieved that at least he was there for me. Call it my lack of senses to be thankful to him for all his help; all my tantrums were thrown at him. He had no clue either on how to manage me. He would cook for me. He took care of me like a mother would. But none of those efforts seemed enough to put my miseries away.
The discomfort kept getting worse till the point that I would have a strong urge to throw up. I would retch and retch but since I'd had nothing to eat throughout the day, I couldn't even puke! Again, my husband would be there with me, every step of the way - patting me in the back, soothing me, getting cold water for me to feel better.
It is said that for some women these symptoms last for all the nine months. It was already a month and a half of suffering with no signs of mellowing down. It was getting more and more difficult for us to cope with my hormonal changes. Moreover, there were few other reasons why we couldn't stay here. Initially we'd decided to go back home in August. However, given the current state of my health, we had to reschedule our journey to July.
I was terrified at the idea of having to live without Kiran for six months. I was looking forward to a pregnancy which would be equally participated by my husband. I wanted him to be there with me to USG and see our baby take shape. He promised me that he would definitely be by my side when I was nearing my due date.
Our tickets were booked within a few days. By now, I had started to feel better. All those overwhelming waves of nausea and tiredness started to wear off as the days went by. I was completely alright by the time we boarded our flight to India.
... will be continued tomorrow.
Like Namratha says, this is not for the faint hearted. Or even those who are not yet ready to be mothers - especially mentally.
This post doesn't mean to scare anyone off pregnancy or child birth. I just hope this helps and provides directions to those who might feel a bit overwhelmed or lost in the whole process.
In no way is this post, and the series of them following soon after, are meant to serve as prescription for your pregnancy related symptoms/ problems. I might include some techniques or solutions that worked for me. It doesn't mean they will help you.
Each and every thing that I have mentioned here is what I went through. It may not be up to the pregnancy-industry standard, but this exactly what happened to me.
I have mentioned bits and pieces of my pregnancy every now and then in this blog. So you may find somethings repetitive.
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The point where a pregnancy begins is a euphoric one. It was for me when I could so much as gather my thoughts and let the feeling sink in that I am now going to be a mother.
When two blue lines confirmed my pregnancy, that was all I had to remind myself that I was not one now. I had no other symptoms other than a missed period. I wasn't feeling nauseated, I wasn't puking at the sight of food, nor did I see any significant change in my weight. These are the basic things you hear of a pregnant woman. I was elated at how easy my pregnancy would turn out to be with no signs.
I must say at this point that I had a lot of misconceptions and myths about pregnancy and a pregnant All of which were busted.
As soon as I got the positive test result, we decided to go for a gynecologist visit, which is scheduled when one is 9 weeks pregnant. Accordingly, an appointment was scheduled that included an ultrasound too.
After we filled a form that seemed endlessly listing histories of any genetic disease or mutations and allergies and sundry, I was sent for the USG. I had googled up on the images of a 9 weeks old fetus. I was expecting to see a small form of a human body. The USG technician squinted at the screen and said, "You are no more than 6 weeks pregnant. There is nothing to see. Your baby is smaller than a grain of rice" I was shocked, for according to my calculations, I should have been 9 weeks already.
When we saw the doctor, and she heard my case, she said it might be due to delayed ovulation, which is pretty common and nothing to be worried about. Hence, my Estimated Due Date (EDD) which was initially January 5th, 2012, was pushed to January 17th, 2012.
Then after that we again discussed if we had any health issues or any other concerns. I did have some. My blood group is Rh negative and Kiran's is Rh positive. Now, I was told earlier by my sis-in-law that a positive-negative combination could be something that needs to be looked into. It was indeed the case. The doctor said that in some cases, the mother's blood can mix with that of the fetus', and having two different Rh factors could cause a problem. I was advised to call the doctor immediately if I bled anytime during the pregnancy. Having that in mind, every time that I would go to the bathroom, I had chills.
The gynec then inquired if I had any morning sickness. When I answered in negative, she congratulated me saying I may be one of the few ones who sail through the 9 months. We came out of the doctors office with smiling faces.
Soon after that, we were to attend a send off party for one of our close friends who were leaving for India. It was a potluck dinner and we had offered to bring in some chicken curry. That day, since morning, I'd been feeling queasy. Thus, Kiran took the responsibility of preparing the dish. It was around 6 PM when he was done with the cooking. He asked me how it smelt. And I said "It is yuck!" Literally. Kiran felt offended and I was not sure why because I was telling the absolute truth.
By now, I was also feeling a bit feverish. And I wanted that offensive stench out of my house. I could sense something had gone wrong in me. I wanted Kiran to skip the dinner and stay with me. However, the dinner couldn't be missed as they were one of our close friends.
When he stepped out, I started feeling anxious for no reason. I am pretty used to being home alone. This time, however, I was ill at ease. Not knowing how to deal with this funny feeling, I called up my mother who was in Singapore at that time to be with N, my sister in law, who was expecting her second child. The moment I heard her voice, my tears started to flow. As much as I wanted to stay strong and not cry, I found myself blubbering on the phone saying "Something is happening to me. I don't know what and no one is here with me." Hearing me collapse in such a way, my mother got emotional for not being here with me. N took over and told me in firm voice that all this is bound to happen and that I have to get myself together, walk over to the fridge and pour myself some cold orange juice. She heard me out, empathized and scolded a bit. That seemed to bring back some courage in me. Only, I hardly knew that was just a mark of a beginning of a whole new innings of suffering.
From that day on, I started feeling tired. From the moment I woke up to the time I went to bed, I was tired. It began with that consistent pain in the whole body that you experience when you have flu. As the days progressed, that exhaustion just grew and grew and grew to the extent that I couldn't get out of my bed. I lay in my bed the whole day, not eating, not showering, because I had no strength nor the courage to pull myself up on my feet for any activity. I could barely even gather enough energy to speak to my mom. I lied about the net and our phone lines being down, just to avoid confrontation with her. I did not want to worry her further.
The days I did find my feet walking toward the kitchen to fix some lunch, they retracted at the myriad combination of smells around the house. My nose could sense every damn smell all the same time - the incense stick, the deo, the curry, the garbage!
I was surviving on a cup of milk, almonds and banana. I couldn't tolerate anything else.
Every evening, correctly at 5 PM, I would start to feel uncomfortable in my stomach. That feeling would last throughout the evening. Each day Kiran came home to a pitiful me. Seeing him, I would burst into tears. I used to feel relieved that at least he was there for me. Call it my lack of senses to be thankful to him for all his help; all my tantrums were thrown at him. He had no clue either on how to manage me. He would cook for me. He took care of me like a mother would. But none of those efforts seemed enough to put my miseries away.
The discomfort kept getting worse till the point that I would have a strong urge to throw up. I would retch and retch but since I'd had nothing to eat throughout the day, I couldn't even puke! Again, my husband would be there with me, every step of the way - patting me in the back, soothing me, getting cold water for me to feel better.
It is said that for some women these symptoms last for all the nine months. It was already a month and a half of suffering with no signs of mellowing down. It was getting more and more difficult for us to cope with my hormonal changes. Moreover, there were few other reasons why we couldn't stay here. Initially we'd decided to go back home in August. However, given the current state of my health, we had to reschedule our journey to July.
I was terrified at the idea of having to live without Kiran for six months. I was looking forward to a pregnancy which would be equally participated by my husband. I wanted him to be there with me to USG and see our baby take shape. He promised me that he would definitely be by my side when I was nearing my due date.
Our tickets were booked within a few days. By now, I had started to feel better. All those overwhelming waves of nausea and tiredness started to wear off as the days went by. I was completely alright by the time we boarded our flight to India.
... will be continued tomorrow.
Wednesday, 1 August 2012
Day 1 :: New beginnings
The training wheels are off! Yes, parents have gone back and we are all alone trying to get adjusted to our baby. Aa is used to exclusive attention from her maternal GPs. Naturally. She’s been with them since birth and their sudden absence is affecting her. And us.
My parents left yesterday and immediately it felt as if the whole house is gonna eat me up. I was all tears yesterday. Every nook and corner of my home reminds me of my parents. It was easy with them around. They took care of Aa while I ran errands around the house or vice versa. The emptiness is palpable.
I was skeptical on how my day would turn out. Surprisingly, it went well. Aa is a good child and is gorgeously cute. I am not saying this because she is my child. She is (thankfully & touchwood) not cranky/ colicky as some babies tend to be. If she missed her GPs, she didn’t show it. Not today. (Yesterday, KK had a hell of a time trying to console a weepy wife and a screaming infant. – More about that later.) I have gained a lot of confidence and have tweaked out some points where I can better myself.
Aa is manageable. Housework is manageable. The only thing that I dread is the cooking part. It’s been more than a year since I touched those pots and pans. I have no courage. Husband is very understanding, hence there is some relief.
I had mentioned earlier; way back, I think; that I wanted to start practicing Yoga. I have started now. It’s once a week class (joined for 4 classes, 3 are up already)!!! I might just extend those for I find immense relief from my upper back ache.
Also, I am seriously thinking of shedding those post partum kilos. I know I am sooo late! Better late than never though! I was heavy at 67 kgs! (Imagine that?!) Now I am 64! (Imagine that?!) And no, I am not ashamed to shout my weight out loud.
This weight loss kind of just happened. I did not plan it. Maybe I shed them while sorting, resorting and setting up my abode. I am planning a healthy diet for myself. Not I-will-not-eat-anything-until-I-die diet. Just a healthier one, which will give me energy to last the whole long day with Aa. My ideal goal point is within the range of 52-54 kilos.
I badly want to fit into my old clothes!!!
With that our (mine and KK’s and now Aa’s) second innings have begun. We are trying to fit in. Trying to do as much possible to ease out creases. All this while, Aa is a huge cutester and entertainment. Her antics keep us amused and even if we are dead tired, she doesn’t fail to bring a smile on our face! That’s life!
With that I embark on my month long blogging journey. Hope you will accompany me, encourage and give me feedback as well.
Tomorrow : My Beautiful Home!
Tuesday, 13 March 2012
Siigh!
She : Why are you staring at me now?
He : Just...
She : You stared at me 1.5 years back and that was understandable... Stop it, please! It feels awkward.
He : I'm looking at you, who was once a girl, then girlfriend, a wife and now a beautiful mother! What an amazing transformation!
... and once again, he steals her heart!
He : Just...
She : You stared at me 1.5 years back and that was understandable... Stop it, please! It feels awkward.
He : I'm looking at you, who was once a girl, then girlfriend, a wife and now a beautiful mother! What an amazing transformation!
... and once again, he steals her heart!
Saturday, 25 February 2012
Guest Post by N
A guest post!!! by N, my first
and most favourite sister-in-law. Read on what's she got to say. Part 2 of the
same will be up, which will be my version of the same story.
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Its been hell loong since I
actually wrote anything; even a grocery list. So this blog post better be a
good one from me. After all my Purnima now has a reputation to take care of.
Speaking of which, Purni
(that's what I call her) and myself have known each other for God knows how
long. The fact that she is related to my aunt, who is also her aunt, is the
main reason. Well, doesn't my aunt and her aunt mean we might be cuz? Err.. no.
Its like this, her aunt in the way of her mom's sister and my aunt being my
uncle's wife... aah... now you get it!
Anyways, she's a year
younger to me but then, that was never an issue. As long as I remember, my first
impression of her was that of a girl who spoke her mind, regardless of who it was. I
loved it and her; as it was something I would never even have courage of
doing. She was, let us say, a "pataka". She was a little sis I never
had, atleast until I had one. She was the "city girl" in our
chota sa village. When we wore salwar, oiled our hair and wore bindis, she
would be in her pretty frocks/jeans with her wild curly hair loose. She was a
dream we girls wanted to live. I don't think she would actually dream about oiling her
hair like me. (blech!)
Zipping into the next 10-15
years, we grew up... meeting occassionally when she would come down during the
school holidays to her aunt's house and I too would be there sometimes. Playing
was out of question at that time. We just used to sit out and look at our
brothers playing Lagori, Cricket and yell for tiniest of "cheatings"..
sigh.. those were the days...
I would like to tell you all my relation with her, she
is now my sister in law (legally), but I care for her more... We fight,
snicker, tease, bitch about our weight do all that stuff sisters do. We
share clothes (unfortunately my waist is rather too big to fit into her
clothes), and we both loooove books, hit restaurants like there is no
tomorrow, and shop, shop, shop...In short, we are always there for each
other (sniff..sniff).
Purni has been a friend first and sister-in-law next. In fact, other than the mandatory crossover from her calling me by name to calling me "vanni" (bhabhi), nothing has changed between us. We drive her brother (and my husband, who happens to be the same person - V) crazy. The best proof of it would be when V tells us, "You girls are supposed to fight, not backing each other!" We get that from him each time that he is cornered or bullied by us. Or when he pulls our legs. Yeah, we do that a lot! Since I am not to, I let her do the pinching, hitting and punching parts.
Purni has been a friend first and sister-in-law next. In fact, other than the mandatory crossover from her calling me by name to calling me "vanni" (bhabhi), nothing has changed between us. We drive her brother (and my husband, who happens to be the same person - V) crazy. The best proof of it would be when V tells us, "You girls are supposed to fight, not backing each other!" We get that from him each time that he is cornered or bullied by us. Or when he pulls our legs. Yeah, we do that a lot! Since I am not to, I let her do the pinching, hitting and punching parts.
We do all kinds of stuff teenagers would. Who
cares how old you are? We are still kids :P (we have our own kid(s) now), but
still...
Now, our talks revolve around kids, cooking, books and we still bitch
about our weight. I eye her non existence waist and she wants my thin
matchstick legs.
How
Purni went from being an occassional city friend to a full time sis in law? That's another story.
I have to say, honestly, I
never remember speaking to, far less even look at Purni's brother... When I
asked him about it, he says he was busy with his college life. Later I found
out he was too shy to speak to girls :P
The very first time I remember
seeing her brother was at my uncle's place (duh!) when I in my 2nd yr
degree. A tall, rather skinny guy with French beard who was waaaaaaaaaaaay too
shy for his age. After exchanging "Hellos", we were back to our own work. He was
then working in Bangalore, and would come down to my uncle's place often during
the weekends. I started seeing more of V and my impression of him never
wavered. He was definetly the quiet type. We talked and I felt sad for him as I
knew he missed his mom and sis way too much. He was actually away from them for
the first time, and that too in a whole new state, where he did not even know
the local language.
We exchanged email id's and kept in touch. In my final
year, V popped up the million dollar question. Honestly, I was not expecting it so suddenly but I was not shocked either. I guess, somewhere in my mind I always knew this
would have been the next step. Well, now that it was asked, I had to answer
right? I took my time and finally, I did tell him what I thought.
For those who don't know me, we
got married a year later - after he completed his MS and landed a job in Sg. Its now been 6 year plus and with 2 amazingly wonderful daughters, I wouldn't ask for
anything more!
Sunday, 19 February 2012
What Made Me Happy Lately
I am all over the moon!!! And this is why,
No, I did not pre order it on Flipkart.com to get this signed copy. In fact, I got to meet her in person...
Preeti Shenoy, one of my favorite authors was in town for her latest book launch; and I did not want to miss it for anything!
We reached before time, which gave me a chance to talk to Preeti akka fora while... and she is as amazing in person as she sounds on her blog! I got to ask her that one question about her that's been haunting me forever...
I asked her how she manages to be so positive and how come the same radiates through her blog. Does she have bad days or not? Does she never get upset?
"Its not like I don't have my bad days. I scream too. At such times, I divert my attention by making something - I make cards or I paint or do yoga. Secondly, I do not believe in spreading negativity. If I'm having a bad day, why should I torment others by ranting it out?", she speaks candidly.
Inspiring, isn't it?
We were also glad to meet her husband, Satish Shenoy, who was a pleasure to talk to. (He writes guest posts on her blog, and they are good reads too!)
During the interactive session, I was curious to know if she faces writer's block, especially when she is doing her Blogathon. Without much ado she says she has a variety to offer - even if her daughter's hugged her during the day, she turns it into a blog post. Again so simple, yet so inspiring! A gesture of love, as small as it may seem, qualifies to be a blogpost. This has certainly given me a boost of enthusiasm for my second run of Blogathon.
Hereby, I have made some resolutions for my own good. I'm going to put them up on my blog. I believe by having something in writing, makes it more real, more solid. That might just avoid me from shying away from my resolutions. Once the world knows about it, then it becomes a question of honour and I'll have to abide by them.
:) :) :) :) :)
P.S. My lill baby doll allowed me to enjoy the whole session by sleeping peacefully in her gramma's arms!
Friday, 17 February 2012
It Takes Two to Tango
This Valentine's day, it wasn't about red roses or cute teddy bears... We have gone through that. I cannot say we have outgrown that phase or that we find it teenager-ish to express emotions through flowers and cakes. I can say, "far yet so near" was our theme for this Valentine's. It's all about love, and whether expressed with gifts or without them hardly matters.
2 years back when our "lhau" was new-new, that bouquet of roses and cake felt mushy. My heart would melt thinking about him. It'd whirl, skip a beat and swell with such novel emotion lately tasted. Prospects of starting an exciting life with a person who you loved and who loved you back (so dearly) made me go weak in knees.
The previous year's V-day was special too; that which was celebrated as a romantic double date with friends! We never thought what future would hold for us - all we knew was that it was time we enjoyed each other's company. Hand in hand, each time that our eyes met, we knew we were not perfect beings but we have our tuning in sync and wavelengths ebb and surge at the same level.
Having taken our relationship to an altogether different platform, today I realise that love can have different shades and shadows. It can change forms, it can evolve for the better. Perhaps I can no longer call it new love, but it still is fresh, thriving and blossoming. I got the customary roses and cake for my birthday. However, this time around, I couldn't fuss much over them. I'd a much more important souvenir of love to look after.
Our life has metamorphosed - for the better - through rough patches and smooth ends. If I had to allot a colour to my life, I'd say it was pink earlier, now it is a tinge darker. Today, I find myself embraced in the warmth of his love and care. I'm sure in the coming years it is going to transform into deeper shades of pink, into red to blazing red and finally there'll be a glow that'll never faze out. The journey till there will demand a lot from us individually. We are ready - in fact looking forward to so many things in life.
From the day I got married, I have known what "plenitude" means. And I have never looked back. I have never missed parents' love or their care or even my freedom. I haven't missed friends' support, I have never found myself lacking in anything. Not that I'm saying I don't need them anymore; but there's always been more than I have asked for.
This year we have lived in installments. Together for 3 months, apart for next 3 - for the whole year. It has also been full of conflicting emotions. Tears reigned. For I've felt like a messy, emotional blob. I have missed him like I never thought I could miss anyone. I craved for his banter, complaints, and also his weird choices of movies. I still do.
If he can turn me from a stubborn-unromantic-who-hates-gooey-love to a hopelessly-head-over-heels-in-love-with-him, then he can do anything under the sun. Being miles away, he still sends my breath for a toss, he has the power to bring happy tears to my eyes. Just like right now.
Sometimes, I love him so much that I hate him. And he knows exactly what I mean by that. ;) ;)
2 years back when our "lhau" was new-new, that bouquet of roses and cake felt mushy. My heart would melt thinking about him. It'd whirl, skip a beat and swell with such novel emotion lately tasted. Prospects of starting an exciting life with a person who you loved and who loved you back (so dearly) made me go weak in knees.
The previous year's V-day was special too; that which was celebrated as a romantic double date with friends! We never thought what future would hold for us - all we knew was that it was time we enjoyed each other's company. Hand in hand, each time that our eyes met, we knew we were not perfect beings but we have our tuning in sync and wavelengths ebb and surge at the same level.
Having taken our relationship to an altogether different platform, today I realise that love can have different shades and shadows. It can change forms, it can evolve for the better. Perhaps I can no longer call it new love, but it still is fresh, thriving and blossoming. I got the customary roses and cake for my birthday. However, this time around, I couldn't fuss much over them. I'd a much more important souvenir of love to look after.
Our life has metamorphosed - for the better - through rough patches and smooth ends. If I had to allot a colour to my life, I'd say it was pink earlier, now it is a tinge darker. Today, I find myself embraced in the warmth of his love and care. I'm sure in the coming years it is going to transform into deeper shades of pink, into red to blazing red and finally there'll be a glow that'll never faze out. The journey till there will demand a lot from us individually. We are ready - in fact looking forward to so many things in life.
From the day I got married, I have known what "plenitude" means. And I have never looked back. I have never missed parents' love or their care or even my freedom. I haven't missed friends' support, I have never found myself lacking in anything. Not that I'm saying I don't need them anymore; but there's always been more than I have asked for.
This year we have lived in installments. Together for 3 months, apart for next 3 - for the whole year. It has also been full of conflicting emotions. Tears reigned. For I've felt like a messy, emotional blob. I have missed him like I never thought I could miss anyone. I craved for his banter, complaints, and also his weird choices of movies. I still do.
If he can turn me from a stubborn-unromantic-who-hates-gooey-love to a hopelessly-head-over-heels-in-love-with-him, then he can do anything under the sun. Being miles away, he still sends my breath for a toss, he has the power to bring happy tears to my eyes. Just like right now.
Sometimes, I love him so much that I hate him. And he knows exactly what I mean by that. ;) ;)
That's us! On 14th February 2011
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