A Mother Is Born

 Some years back, I read in a newspaper article the renowned lyricist Gulzar speaking about his experience as a parent. He said something to the effect that when Meghna, his daughter was born, he felt reborn; reborn as a parent. So, he felt that along with his child he too was seeing and experiencing the world for the first time. In other words, a parent was born!

The reason why I remember his words even though many years have passed since I became a first-time mother, is that I feel, no matter how much time may pass, no matter how old your child gets, he or she will always have something new for you, something that will surprise you, thrill you, shock you, agitate you, excite you and ultimately leave you gasping that they managed to get the better of you! That is, your child will always manage some way or another to turn your neat and ordered little world around with his or her sheer unpredictability! For, if there is one thing that every parent, especially mothers can wholeheartedly attest to, it is that children are the most unpredictable of all the lovely creations of our world and we, believe it or not, rejoice in that very unpredictability; it is the very life-blood of us parents and it is that which makes us come alive as a father or a mother.

My motherhood journey began on a rather unexpected note. It was a day like many others, mundane and part of the routine of a married woman with a job and a husband to juggle and a house to take care of. I’d been late by a week and I was never that late. My biological clock rang a timely routine every month and except for very painful cramps and a total feeling of disgust, I usually managed to get over the time of menstrual activity with a fair bit of courage and barely concealed impatience.

So, it was with confusion that I sat mulling over the cause of my body playing truant. I had not undertaken any arduous travel or done unusually hard labor - these sometimes tended to act as unwanted interferences, and I was certain that I had been careful too. Or had I? I did remember that the pill needed to be taken timely. But did I mismanage the ‘timely’ bit? I was unsure. Doubt soon gave way to nervousness and alarm was the ultimate result. If there was one thing that I did not want at that time it was motherhood. I had just started working again after a gap of a few months brought on as an excuse for settling down after marriage and shifting cities, and it occurred to me that I was not yet ready for another colossal change. Marriage had been enough of an earthquake reducing my happily boring life as a single working woman to a happily married woman albeit sans the official tag of ‘employment’ and thereby, leaving a bit of a vacuum within my, until then, busy world. I had taken to doing all housework and was soon feeling overwhelmed with the daily cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing and other paraphernalia that follows the routine of ‘keeping house’. The months simply kept rolling by and I soon felt rather boxed in by my frustration at having brought things to such a head myself! So it was with relief and excitement that I jumped at the first profitable job offer that came my way. And only a couple of months into my new job, I wasn’t prepared to be the agent of another change that would guarantee to turn my world into a spin again!

Therefore, it was with mounting trepidation that I bought a home pregnancy kit and got up the nerve to do the test. It turned out that my world was indeed poised on the precipice of a spin! The positive result was music to my husband’s ears but I was on the edge. Even as my husband stood there beaming, totally surprised by the news with eyes shining brightly and excitement and joy overflowing from his face, I stood apart, a wary smile on my lips that did not reach my eyes, and with a mind full of questions and exclamations. How come now of all times in the future? Why me? It was so unfair!

The next step was of course getting the pregnancy officially confirmed and soon I found myself inside the neat and very white, sanitized office of a gynecologist. She did a blood test and settled the issue for the next ten months - yes, I was on my way to becoming a mother. And lo and behold my motherhood journey had begun! To me it seemed as if Motherhood had developed life of its own and I was but a vessel in its hands - a mound of clay to be played with and shaped as per the need and requirement of the hour. Lord, I was so jittery!

While coming back home riding in an autorickshaw with my husband, I informed my parents. Wait - why was I in such a hurry that I could not wait to get home before I shared the news? Well, it seems strange somehow to think about that time in retrospect, but I remember feeling a sudden change come over me as I listened to the gynecologist confirm my pregnancy and talk to me about what it boded for me and my family in the coming months - the precautions I needed to take, the diet I had to follow and the medicines I would be taking, not to forget the periodical checkups - pointers about all these things were given to us and we took it all in enthusiastically. We were like a couple of kids excited about getting on our first rollercoaster ride! And of course, I could not wait to share my big news. Hence, the phone call mid-autorickshaw-ride where, with all the shaking and loud clamor of the auto engine, it seemed impossible that anyone could hear what the other said. Finally, all near and dear ones had been duly informed and we set about trying to prepare for the coming new phase in our lives.

A new phase had begun in my life. But I still found it difficult to believe that deep inside me a new life had germinated. I remember looking at my tummy in the mirror and wondering when I would begin to show. And there was a new terror that started eating its way into my mind. The first few months were supposed to be critical and every possible care had to be taken to minimize both physical and mental strain. I began to worry that any sudden movement might prove bad for the little life growing inside. I am a brisk walker and rather prone to abrupt reactions - more like a case of think after you leap. So, it was quite difficult to train my body to slow down its reaction time and become gradual in movement.

But things have a way of happening, and I say this as an alternative to the concept of Destiny since I believe more in Free Will than Fate. So, I allow for occurrences that come about despite us thinking that they might not happen to us. There is nothing to be done - what has to happen will happen - Murphy’s Law sugar-coated! Barely into my seventh week of pregnancy, I had an episode of spotting one night; a night that my husband had left for China on a business trip. The next morning I went to my workplace and a little while later was sitting facing a gynecologist. Nervous and scared with no one to turn to at such short notice in a new city, I had requested a colleague to come with me to the nearest hospital. After listening to me, the doctor did a preliminary checkup and then asked me to get an ultrasound done. The result of the scan was not something I expected. The drops of blood I’d seen were indicative of a serious threat to the developing fetus. I was asked to get admitted immediately. For a while, my mind could not process what was happening around me. I remember my eyes filling up with tears as I asked the doctor if it was anything I had done. The answer was that things sometimes happen for no particular reason. Even as my colleague looked on incredulously, I was put in a room and asked to lie down. I requested my colleague to help with some formalities which she in her kindness and presence of mind obliged, going back to office to retrieve my belongings as well as informing my superior about the developments. Meanwhile, I made couple of phone calls to inform a family friend and a relative who came promptly on hearing the news bringing my mother-in-law from home. By evening, my colleagues and superior from office had come to visit; my husband had been informed and was on his way back, and best of all, my mother had flown in from the national capital. I breathed easy thinking that things would soon get better.

Sometime during the night, I opened my eyes brimming with sleep and thought I saw the face of my husband. Rubbing my eyes I tried to look closer and saw that indeed my husband sat nearby. His face was pale and taut and he looked as if he’d not slept for two days. The sight of him sitting beside me on the hospital bed with a face filled with anxiety and fear is something I will not forget anytime soon. As I tried to get up he told me to lie back and brushed his fingers over my head. I lay back and looked at him, relief mixed with sadness flooding my face. Apart from the banalities we did not say much, skirting the subject that was uppermost in our minds. Worry clothed it in thankful silence. He might have felt it was needless to put me through more stress after all that had transpired since morning, and as for me I was simply exhausted and overwhelmed with the enormity of the uncertainty that lay ahead. So, we fell silent after a few minutes and as the clock ticked by I felt my eyelids grow heavy with much needed sleep.

I stayed in the hospital for six days. They were one of the most trying six days of my life. Each day I felt better physically but had fear gnawing away inside me. I had no clue when the doctor would say that it was time to be discharged. However, the day to leave the hospital did come and I was eager to get home. The stay there proved short too. On advice from the doctor it was decided that I needed to take complete rest for the next three months and the place chosen for it was my parents’ home. I was thankful as there really is no place like home when one is ill than that that where one feels most comfortable and relaxed. So, despite the slight risk involved, I set out on the Rajdhani Express en route to my erstwhile home. Once I got there, surrounded by familiar things and sights and free of the daily hustle of married life, I began to feel and get better. My nausea decreased or rather it decreased to manageable levels and the doctor who I began consulting there told me to take things easy and lifted the weight of bed rest from my psyche. My routine began to revolve around regular meals, medicines and checkups apart from the frequent bouts of nausea and vomiting. I resigned myself to the fact that I was among those unlucky women who continue to have nausea even after the first trimester. I saw my tummy swell slightly as I approached the middle of my second trimester and the first signs of movement of the life growing inside me filled me with wonder and awe.

The fifth month brought a major change of scenario. My rest period was over and I had to go back to my ‘sasuraal’. It was not something that I looked forward to as I had become rather too comfortable staying in my ‘maika’. However, the silver lining was that I would be able to rejoin my workplace and so would not feel the tediousness of staying at home. I remember clearly that first day when we got home. My mother-in-law was to join us in a couple of days. That night as I stood near the kitchen sink after my parents left, I was feeling so sad that while washing the dinner dishes I had suddenly burst into tears. My husband who was watching TV in the living room had rushed to see what the matter was. He kept asking me what had happened but all I could do was weep uncontrollably. It had been a sudden rush of emotions that were already on edge due to the onslaught of jumpy progesterone and estrogen that I had been completely helpless as my body gave in to my jittery nerves. However, after the initial few days things improved a great deal especially when I found couple of girls at work who were in the same boat as me. One of my colleagues was just a few weeks ahead of me while another was a few months down in the pregnancy calendar. So there we were, the pregnant trio at office going for walks together during lunch break, talking in loud whispers over cups of tea and snacks in the evenings, giving each other the much needed peer support for the approaching months and chatting away while walking back to the bus stop.

Towards the end of the fifth month, the movements of the baby became regular and I was asked to monitor them carefully. It was a confusing exercise that proved nerve wracking at times. I would wake up in the middle of the night covered in sweat worrying whether the baby was fine because I could not keep track of the movements when I slept. However, as the weeks passed by and I felt the baby’s movements grow stronger the fear started ebbing away as I realized that things were going just fine. Of course the little irritations and naggings associated with pregnancy and a swelling stomach were all there making timely appearances, but on the whole it was a time of growing expectation and excitement. I had to go off rice completely as well as any non-vegetarian food on account of my ever present nausea that was triggered with these food smells as well as foods that gave off oily smells likes fried stuff. The onset of pregnancy had seen my sense of smell go on overdrive and it had become a constant source of agony to even venture near the bathroom with its ‘smells’ that seemed ‘foul’ especially the ladies room at office where I was careful to rush in and out as quickly as possible not even waiting to chat with any colleagues that I might bump into occasionally.

As I entered my third and final trimester, things started looking much better. My nausea started to lessen and my appetite started picking up. Along with it came cravings too. I remember one particular night when I suddenly felt a craving for chocolate ice cream sometime after dinner. I was adamant about the place I wanted it from too. And my hapless husband had to drive almost 15kms with me in tow just to get the craving out of my system. Of course he ended up having a scoop or two of the flavor he liked too. Another time we went for this late night screening of the English film ‘Hangover’ when we got couple of free tickets, courtesy a friend who worked in the Indian division of the production house. It was past midnight when the film started but I remember laughing a lot throughout the two hours it lasted as I had not laughed in a long time. But the icing on the cake was when the time came for me to go to my parents’ house again - this time for the baby’s delivery. I was excited and glad that I had made it through with the initial hiccups and afterwards with office work and housework too including cooking with full on nausea and bouts of vomiting. Now, it was time to put up my feet and relax till the final week or so.

I had decided rather unambiguously, that I was not going to read any material related to motherhood or the signs and symptoms associated with pregnancy and its varied phases. I wanted it to be a novel experience in every sense - I wanted to know and experience every little detail firsthand and not spoil it by having any prior knowledge about what to expect and know about the coming weeks and months ahead. And I was content with the ultrasound images of my baby, feeling ecstatic every time I got a printout to see how the baby was growing. The ultrasound technician was a genial old gentleman who would patiently explain what the images were as I tried to make out shapes on the blurry screen of the scanning machine.

The final month was both difficult as well as a fulfilling one. Sleeping at night had almost become like a game of luck by numbers. On any given night a couple of trips to the bathroom were regular, but towards the end of the final trimester, the situation tends to worsen with trying to get up from bed in the middle of sleep and then shuffling along slowing gripping walls and backs of chairs for support in order to get to the bathroom. Sleeping itself seems like a tedious exercise with the night spent in laboriously tossing and turning over from one side to the other trying to find the best possible position to sleep. So if I was lucky, I’d have a comparatively better night than most if I managed to get few hours of undisturbed sleep without turning over much or getting up to pee. And lady luck tended to give me the miss most times, coming in for visits that were few and far in between.

At last the much anticipated day arrived. It was the day after Diwali and the month was October - my favorite month apart from February when the weather is beautiful and dreamy in northern India. The setting was Delhi, the place where I had grown up in and a place that I identify most with. So, it was fitting that the most important event in my otherwise dull existence until then should take place in the city that I hold dear. We had booked a room in one of the private hospitals near our home and at the appointed time I set out with my husband and family to get admitted. Hospitals until then had always been a place of fear and distaste for me. The smells, sights and the very ambience had depressed me since childhood. It is no place that one wishes to go willingly if given a chance and I think everyone other than the people who work there share similar sentiments. However, this time was different for me. I was going there to welcome the single most important person in my life - my baby - someone who had spent ten months inside me growing gradually from a tiny speck into a new life that weighed in at a few kilograms and more now. Excitement, eagerness, nervousness, happiness and fear - all these swept over me in waves of quickening frequency until at times I felt like running out of breath.

Since my labor did not start on its own, I was given medication to induce it. And so, the process of giving birth had begun. Slow and less intense in the beginning, then gradually increasing in intensity and frequency, the contractions soon had me clutch at the head of the bed and the sides in desperation. Really, I reached out for anything that I could get a good grip on. The doctors and nurses kept coming in between to check on my status and my family too kept moving in and out of the room as time moved by. The medicine used to induce labor had one side effect that worsened my situation - nausea. Throughout my pregnancy I had suffered from nausea and vomiting and even now as I lay on the hospital bed writhing in pain as contractions kept coming, I was flooded with nauseous again. Really, how bad could it possibly get? So, there I was struggling to get up in between contractions to rush to the washbasin a few feet away and retching into it, all the time drops of pink-tinged water dripping down my legs. I later realized that the pink color was blood mixed with water; the residual discharge of the amniotic fluid that had surrounded the baby, and which had come out earlier when my water broke.

I was had been in labor for over 12 hours and still the required dilation did not occur. My doctor asked if I wanted an epidural - something that would remove the excruciating pain. Exhausted beyond reckoning, I quickly agreed - really anything that would take away the unbearable pain was welcome at that time! So, I found myself being moved from my room to another one with equipments of different types and sizes. There were quite a few people inside it - doctors and nurses and all seemed very busy with whatever it was they were engaged in. I was moved to an elevated hard-surfaced area where I was asked to turn on my side and bring my legs up closer to my chest as much as possible with one arm resting below my head and the other positioned across my torso coming to rest on the other side. This was the fetal position and it was necessary for the epidural. Next, someone - a male nurse maybe - placed his hands over my arm resting on my side and over my legs to make sure I did not, or rather could not, move. This was also a necessary part of the procedure to ensure that the person undergoing the epidural was not subjected to any possible error due to any sudden untoward movement on their part. The anesthesiologist stepped in next, and started to feel my backbone. She had a firm and clear voice and she clearly communicated to me what she was going to do. I was asked not to hold my breath but rather keep calm and breathe deeply and to keep absolutely still. After feeling my backbone, she seemed to have made up her mind and after a verbal confirmation from my doctor the epidural began. I felt a sharp pain as something pierced my back near my lower vertebrae. I had been cautioned against any sudden movement and I tried to refrain from jerking my body. The firm grip that the male nurse had on my arm and legs helped as he ensured that I remained curled in the fetal position. The anesthetic that was injected into my back eased away my labor pain. The contractions continued to come but the pain associated with them was absent.

This went on for a couple of hours until the doctor mentioned to me that the dilation was still way below than was needed. Meanwhile, they had been monitoring the heart rate of the baby and it started to decrease. My husband was brought inside and informed of the scenario. The doctor informed us that they would not wait much longer as the baby seemed to be in distress - a sign that it was time to surgically get the baby out. A cesarean was something my husband did not want, but in the light of the baby’s falling heart rate there really was no choice. And so, I was quickly moved to a portable bed and wheeled into the operation theatre. Inside, I was given another dose of anesthetic that soon induced numbness in my body from the waist down. An oxygen mask was placed over my nose and mouth. The doctor checked and asked me twice whether I felt anything, but I replied in the negative. So, we were good to go. A kind of partition was held over my stomach and I could not see who or what was happening on the other side. All I could make out were the white overhead lights in the theatre and the talk that went on among the team of doctors and nurses around me.

After a while I felt a sudden pressure over my lower abdomen as if someone were pressing on it. And then the next thing I knew was that the doctor was telling me that I had a baby girl! She asked me whether I had hoped for a girl or a boy and I joyfully cried out, “Girl. I wanted a girl”. “Well then,” she said, “you have got what you wished for!” After having been cleaned my child was shown to me. I eagerly craned my neck sideways to see my bundle of joy and she looked exquisite - a true gift from God. With tears swimming in my eyes I saw a tiny face with clear black eyes and a perfect little rosebud mouth peeping from a bundle of white cloth. Our little angel had finally come to gladden our hearts and brighten our lives! And I thanked the Lord for this blessing that He in His wisdom and mercy had showered upon us.

With the birth of a child, things have a way of changing. Some changes are irreversible and others, well, others might revert back to their origins. So it was with us - as husband and wife, as a family and as people who had come together just a little while back. Our firstborn, our daughter, made us realize just how important the role of parents is and just how hard too. No one can even fathom what it is to be a parent unless they have a child, natural or otherwise. And it is the role of a mother that has to be the backbone in a family when a child comes into it. For she is the one - the one who gives life and nurtures the baby through her milk, sweat and toil, cares for and looks after the baby through anytime of the day or night - it is she who needs to be made out of cast iron as it may, nay as it should. For if, she were not there then perhaps the very survival and existence of the baby, the new-born, might come into question. The first few months after childbirth, the mother and baby are inseparable. For me, the first month after my first daughter was born (I have two beautiful daughters) was undoubtedly the hardest time in my entire life. The lack of sleep, the near complete exhaustion, the constant pain in my limbs, the heaviness in my chest because of breasts swollen with milk, the need to change the baby’s clothing at frequent intervals to check for wetness or to see if it has gotten soiled with poop, then equal frequency with which the baby has to be fed and then patted and burped and put to sleep - these and a myriad other things that make 24 hours seem like a blink of an eye - it is these and more countless other things of childbirth that make the whole experience both unique as well as unforgettable and unforgiving. For it is no mean task - the task of being a mother. For all the countless men who after spending a fortnight’s paternity leave, go back thankfully to their daily jobs it is impossible to even come close to imagining what the wife is going through back home coping with newfound motherhood, even with help at hand in the form of parents, in-laws or domestic helps. Being born into motherhood is an excruciatingly difficult job to do and do it well because one’s baby deserves the very best one can give and accordingly all of us mothers strive with every breath in our bodies to try and give every possible care and comfort to the child nestling in our arms.

So we changed somewhat to accommodate the best we could possibly give to our firstborn. Gone were the days of idle chitchat or leisurely meals or spending time on hobbies. For me, watching TV or reading a book became a luxury that I could ill afford; even reading the newspaper demanded too much of my time and I decided to forego it. As for our time together, forget talking or even trying to make conversation, there would barely be time to even notice what the other was saying at times because the moment the baby was there half of my senses as a mother became fine-tuned with her needs. Was the baby awake? Did she sleep well? Was she hungry? Do I need to feed her now? Did she need a change of clothes? Was that a cry that I heard? Should I go check on her? Oh God, she is not taking her feed properly! Could she be coming down with something? Lord, I forgot to burp her! These and a hundred other questions and thoughts constantly plague mothers, especially during first few months of childbirth. Add to this anxiety and stress the complications brought on by lack of adequate sleep and not getting enough time to eat properly or have proper rest or exercise and you have a woman who might be the female version of superman, a woman desperately trying to hang on to the last vestiges of sanity in the face of extreme emotions like anger, frustration, depression and loneliness having to go through a new experience like motherhood on her own!

At such times, as a mother and wife, what she most wants and expects to a reasonable degree is that her husband, the baby’s father, would at least try to understand somewhat the nature of things as hormones raged inside his wife and she bravely fights to keep all hell from breaking loose both within her as well as outside where her baby needs to be given top priority. The father might feel neglected or even get jealous of the attention that his wife might be giving the child over him. But it is the necessity of the time that he not act like a jealous or insecure teenager and instead extend much-needed help and support to his wife and thereby, become a participant in child rearing and not just a spectator who is there to merely amuse or play with the child at his own convenience.

Change is a difficult process and human nature is not attuned to it. It needs to be trained to accept change and accept the not so comfortable changes well. So, when the wife suddenly starts losing her figure after childbirth, constantly referring to her increasing dimensions will not be a positive thing to adopt for the family around. Women face depression after childbirth and a low self esteem at that crucial juncture could do harm that might not be easy to erase. Similar is the case with eating habits or lack of exercise. Majority of women in India are forced into eating habits that tend to add to them being overweight for the sake of their babies, in order that the child will get sufficient milk from the mother. Similarly, there is no concept of an exercise regime that is regulated specifically for mothers especially in the first year or so of maternity. If there was, it could bring about much needed relief to both new mothers as well as those who are few years down the line. It would not only give them some time for themselves but also help them with their fitness and thereby boost their morale - a fit body helps with keeping the mind fit too!

So, in my new role as a mother I faced a lot of challenges and hurdles that tested the limits of my endurance and patience. Sometimes things turned out well, other times they did not. I was reduced to tears, frustrated shouts and screams of sheer insanity, bouts of anger and black moods that threatened to sometimes break all the ties that bound me. The silver lining was the smiles of my baby that kept me going, the thousand little things that make me feel blessed to have her as mine to hold and to cherish and the support of family and friends, each of whom in their own way provided succor and relief, and ultimately made the journey much more enriching than the individuals.

Motherhood is something that I really value and appreciate now that I have a second daughter who came into our lives not long ago. Each of my children has taught me many things as a mother and as an individual. Be it a house that is dirty or littered with toys day after day, cleaning it is definitely a priority; and feeding and looking after one’s children is a non-ending job that will be there as long as one is a mother, but the ultimate goal should never be lost to each one of us mothers - the time and effort that we put into the welfare of the home and of our children should not supersede the time that we need to give and spend with our children doing things that they want and like and will bring a smile to their faces and a sparkle in their eyes. The dish that needs to be cooked can wait, the floor that needs to be swept or mopped can cleaned later, the scattered toys will be put back in their rightful places, but look away for a minute at the face of your child who is waiting for you to play a game with them, waiting to show you a drawing they have made, waiting to share a joke with you, or waiting to simply sit beside you and put her head on your lap. Look away from your chores or your work for a while and you will feel like singing a song for your child, twirling a few times holding her hand, teaching her a game of hop-scotch, or simply taking your toddler out into the verandah or balcony and showing her a colorful flower or bird or the cat mewing nearby or the autorickshaw driving by. Time is never constant and all too soon we will find that the flower has withered, the bird has flown by, the cat gone after game, the autorickshaw has driven away and the child who so patiently waited for us has grown up all too soon and is now occupied with schoolwork, dance classes or karate classes, is sitting glued to the TV or computer, or is simply too busy to spend time with us mothers having found new playmates and companions!

As Gulzar said, I was born again too. Twice more in my life actually, once each time at the birth of each of my daughters. And every new birth as a mother gave me something new to look forward to and to hold dear. New memories to cherish, new moments to treasure and new people to appreciate and value - my two beautiful little angels - who every time a worry clouds my brow raise their small hands to smoothen out the creases and make me feel proud as a woman and as a mother. It to them that I will be most beholden to and to them that I will try to leave behind something that they will cherish - the importance of giving your best in everything you do and to do it proudly too. I sincerely hope that I will be successful in my endeavors and that the future might be kinder than I hope and that my journey will prove fruitful and fun and memorable in the years to come not just for me but my children too.