Birth

My mother came three days before Abir's birth. Husband had to pick her up from another city and deep inside we only hoped that in his absence the baby would not pop out. However, a dear friend refused to leave me alone (Thanks Anuja), appeared at my doorstop and stayed until Husband and Mummy reached home at midnight. Next morning, an unusual pain started, something that was hard to describe. It was not severe enough to rush to the hospital, yet it kept me awake the whole night. On the following day I had an appointment with my Ophthalmologist , which took 4 hours to finish and by the end of it we were famished. I still remember asking Husband to treat me with a piece of cake, the first sweet thing I had in the last 4 months. Shamelessly I had gulped down the thing in a flash of a second as we headed back home.

We had went for a CTG every single day starting seven months of pregnancy and everyday Abir's heartbeat followed a usual rhythm. But on this particular Tuesday, something went amiss. His heartbeat was kind of jumpy. It made us queasy when it scooted up and in an instant went down.  The doctor asked me to come back in one hour after eating something  for another CTG as this one didn't look fine. A longer  CTG was repeated and it came out just the same. She immediately referred us to MHH. I am not an intuitive person, I usually go by reason. But I felt we were going to meet our son that very day. As we were heading towards the hospital I called my Mother and asked her if she could make some lunch and we three could eat together. Husband thought I was mad, but I knew it would be sometime before I would meet her and would be home again. We ate, picked up my hospital bag and went to MHH. My CTG ran for 1.5 hours, after which the doctor came and her face spelled it was time. My contractions had started but were not strong enough to deliver and the baby's heartbeat was too irregular to aim for induced labour. So, it was inevitably a C-Section . "When?" I asked. "Now," said the doctor.

The total duration from us getting dressed to seeing Abir for the first time was 15 min. They took him out, there was a moment of silence and then he wailed three times. Everything felt so surreal. All of a sudden, I started shaking vigorously, my teeth chattered loud and a surge of nausea enveloped me. I felt I was standing naked on ice. The only thing I remembered was the thick tuft of hair on my son's head and tears in my Husband's eyes.  A couple of injections later, I opened my eyes only when the pain above my legs hit me. They transferred Abir on to my chest from my Husband who had been nestling him all this while. He was so tiny and light, just like feather. Born with 2kgs he was the smallest baby on the normal ward. He could not maintain his body temperature and hence was put inside a thermally regulated incubator. It broke my heart to see nurses punching his mini feet every 3 hours to draw blood for monitoring his low blood sugar and continued the same for next 3 days until it got stabilized.

My pain at the site of incision was by now impossible. I was offered ibuprofen or paracetamol (pppppfffff....in Germany that is the strongest you would be given). Unfortunately, I couldn't stomach even them due to my ulcers and was really on no pain medication. But the worst was yet to come. Around 11 pm THE midwife (yes, she was someone special) came and asked me to get up from my bed. At first I thought she was kidding, but then she held my hand and made me stand up. I have endured a lot of pain but this intensity was beyond my imagination. I felt like thousand knives were cutting through my skin. I was not even finished wiping my tears yet and she reappeared with a milk pumping machine asking me to pump out the colostrum.  

Next morning was no less horrific. While she pulled out my catheter, she asked me to walk without support this time and take a shower. I never thought taking a single step would be so hard at some point of my life and that was one epic shower I took! She was super tough. She was the one who looked at my tears and asked me to stop being a sissy since I was a Mum now. She was the one who told me that she would take care of Abir only on Day 1 of my operation and starting Day 2 he was my responsibility. And true to her words, she actually refused answering my bells, making me walk everytime to her office when I needed something. I am sure it was not done on purpose and she genuinely wanted me to stand up on my own and take care of my child. But in the absence of any pain medication my body felt like a yo-yo, directionless and dysfunctional.

However, everything happens for a good reason. Abir was diagnosed with metabolic imbalance and a thrombotic blood profile when he was 2 days old. His precious little blood was drained thrice, the tubes were chucked out into the dustbin and he was re-infused with saline. Those nights as I sat in the hospital, seeing my baby entangled in tubes and needles I used to wonder why  Abir?  But, the midwife was right, I was a mother and I could not afford to cry. He was too small to latch and could not breastfeed, so I would literally crawl until the pumping station near her office minimum 8-10 times a day to pump milk. I could only do this because I had learned to walk in pain earlier on.  I stayed alone in the hospital for the next 10 days. And every single day when I would undress Abir in the common room to take his weight, other mothers would look at his miniscule body and gasp.  But in return, I would cover my little one, every inch of him in kisses and cuddles, since I never felt anything less than gratitude for having him in our life. Really, thank you Abir for letting me be your mother.

It was a rainy gloomy Tuesday when we had made the concluding journey as a husband and wife only to come back home again as parents. We named our son ABIR. In Hebrew it means "brave", in Arabic "fragrance", in Bangla "sky at dusk" and in Hindi "color", all meanings no less befitting to our child than the other.The day we reached home, I locked myself in the bathroom and broke down.  It's difficult even now sometimes not to be sad. But I have to remind myself of all the good things that have also happened, even when I don't realize it.

People question why I did not share this journey with them earlier? It is simple. We live in a society which legitimizes encroachment of each and every  choice someone makes, no matter how affirmative it is. And this introduces you to only fear and self-doubt. That was the last thing we wished for. Of course, it came with the price of being alone but it was better than being given unsolicited advice and answering fewer questions.

And truth be told, most people just watch and even enduring relationships do change. While we drew comfort in those who became closer, we let go of the ones who chose to be distant. What we witnessed should never be anybody's life's reality. On my loony days, I tell Husband that it would have made people piss-in-their-pants to withstand even 1 % of it. As a matter of fact he agrees. But having said that, not a single day passes when I don't thank God for helping us through this pregnancy and childbirth. Sometimes, when I see kids who weigh more or are achieving their developmental milestones much faster, the feeling that I have failed my son creeps in. But a look at our boy replaces that feeling with a sense of pride. He is such a fighter! I forget about my own inadequacies as a mother and focus on his achievements. His birth has inspired me to strive against my fate and my sense of self-worth now is far more concrete.

One might ask why then am I writing 2 km long post on it and that too NOW? Well, in my pursuit of procrastination and hands full with a baby it seemed impossible to even sit on the computer. Writing was really a distant throw. Until something happened. On a really grim day, when parenting Abir had pulled me into a black hole of despair, my Husband said the sweetest thing. He said : "Why don't you write? It will heal you and also make people who think they are in deep shit realise that although it may seem like a living hell right now, it will get better someday." And so I started writing. Our house is in shambles and we both are a mess. But I scribble on whenever my hands are free.

Our story does not have a happy ending yet. I thought pregnancy was tough, but the last seven months have been more brutal  and surely the most vulnerable times of my life (May be some day I would write about it too :)). Husband and I have already made several rounds of hospital after son's birth and I am sure many struggles would follow. But this adventure ride of ours so far has made us cocksure of one thing i.e. everything in life is so temporary and shall pass.  We both just have to stick around sane and believe in each other. Every now and then I rejoice when we hop on the brighter side and do well.  However,  I beat myself up even at the thought of having another baby since going through the same experience makes me shudder. I will NEVER be ready again. And that's my only regret.