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A young mother recounts her emotional journey from a difficult pregnancy to being the mother today, of a much-loved, happy toddler.
I had a very arduous pregnancy.
I was not able eat and sleep throughout the 9 months. Infections and medications made it even more difficult. I have had severe food cravings on many days, but was scared to eat them, especially spicier ones. I ate food only to throw up everything in next 5 mins. Every day I threw up blood at least once. According to doctors it was a part of pregnancy and normal.
But it wasn’t normal to have a permanent burning sensation, uneasiness and pain in the throat and food pipe. Wasn’t normal to be stuck at home unable to venture out happily like any other pregnant women. Even when I had stepped out, the first thing my eyes searched for was a washroom. It was extremely depressing to feel uneasy and nauseated 24/7.
It was just your kicks, right from the 20th week, that made me look forward to the next day and stay put till labour. It was your way of reminding me about the happiness that awaited, ahead.
Every day, I conversed with you about all possible good things and you acknowledged through your kicks. You were my only motivation on the days, when I wanted to give up, remove the happy mask I had put up, and just coil into a ball and cry.
Then the D day arrived and I was advised to go for C-section. I was jumpy about C-section, catheter, stitches, pain etc. But again, the anticipation of seeing you in my arms helped me surge through it.
Before I came to terms with pre surgical procedures, I was in the operation theatre surrounded by doctors cutting open my stomach. I was conscious but blinded by an eye mask. I felt them tug for what seemed to be a long time, and I even winced in slight pain.
And then it happened. I had an unexplainable pull, and my heart beats were fastest when I heard your first cry. I had put up with all odd situations to hear that sound. That was the moment I felt alive after so many months.
Even now, that day holds the first place among all the happy memories I have ever made.
Every one around me laughed as you peed on yourself first and then on the doctor. You were very tiny, but you held all the strings of my heart right at the first sight. You gave birth to the mother in me, then. The birth of motherhood was too private, even for me to realize.
The doctor fondly brought you close to my face and asked me to kiss you. All I saw was a blood-and-white-fluid-covered, tiniest yet beautiful baby with big black eyes looking at me. I shivered and hesitantly touched you. They laughed at my hesitance and positioned you near my face asking me to kiss you. A lone tear rolled out. Till date, I am not able to describe that magical emotion.
Like many women out there, I have had lots of ups and downs. I had to take tough decisions, put up with demanding situations, offer strength to others even at my weakest moment. I’ve sacrificed many things for people, had my share of bitter experiences, cried out of helplessness, and clung on to every ray of hope. I found all those bad experiences diminish into a tiny dot and the tiniest precious bundle expand itself big enough to show me the road of happiness ahead..
Then, my physical pain overtook all the other senses for next few hours. Once I was shifted to a private room I saw your grandparents and your father overwhelmed with joy. There was happiness everywhere.
You were kept in the NICU. Next day, once I was freed from the tubes, I forced myself out of the bed got dressed and asked your father to walk me to NICU, to see you.
Everyone was surprised about the distance I walked the very next day post operation, without painkillers. I owe you all those brownie points. Because all it took, was a strong urge to hold you. From that day, you had your influence on me.
As I entered the NICU, your father took me to an incubator. There I saw you. long fingers curled into a fist, almost bald head, bright colored skin, you were sleeping on your stomach with slightly parted lips, with an I.V inserted into your hand. I asked the head nurse there, if I could touch you. She laughed real hard and dumped you on my lap in swift motion.
I experienced an unbelievable sense of soulful connection. That day I had lots of first time experiences.
First time I fed you and you burped.
First time I had an immense satisfaction bubbling inside, seeing that gesture. Probably, that was the moment I had vowed to contribute all I can, for creating a healthy routine for you.
First time, I realised I had so much room inside my heart to love someone to this extent.
After that day, I had 45 days of tough times, emotional breakdowns and severe insomnia. You were a very very difficult baby. You were not anything that those motherhood books had mentioned. You cried through out the night and most part of the day. I used to hold you close to me and whisper it would be OK soon. Those were the days I had felt very vulnerable and incapable. My muddled brain was tired of seeing a wide awake and always crying baby.
I slept for 8 hours in total for the first 45 days. Doctor had instructed me to improve your weight by a month. And you refused feed. I was given a dozen of advices, which made the task even more difficult. Deciding on which to follow and which to ignore was exhausting.
I never knew the solution to wipe off your discomfort. But I held you too close, with your hands tightly holding my shirt. So close, that “you” merged with “me”. You drenched my shirt with your tears and cried yourself to sleep. I stayed awake, overwhelmed about not being good enough to carry the responsibility of motherhood.
Amidst the insanity, your eyes that acknowledged my presence and tiny hands that held my shirt every time, pulled me out of nothingness. It gave me strength to try different solutions.
Like other babies, you were very challenging when it came to food. You refused food. You threw up multiple times. I used to do numerous experiments with the taste of the food before feeding you a full proper meal.
Every day was challenging and equally exciting. Looking back, I’m amazed at the level of composure and tenacity you have brought into my soul. You got me new friends too.
The day when you crawled to kitchen, tugged my pant and cried “amma aaaaa” I saw the soulful, emotional and most precious thread that bonded us. The fact that, you chose to come to me during hunger gave me an overpowering sense of protectiveness and contentment. That was the day, I became aware of the birth of mother in me.
Now, You walk. You run. You giggle. You babble. You operate all electronic devices. You spill things. You roll on the floor crying. You spit food everywhere. You mess up the carpet. You put your hands in the toilet basin. Splash water all around while bathing.
You eat by yourself making it messy. You drink water by yourself spilling and gargling. You refuse to learn to use sipper.
You refuse to sit on the toilet seat. You bite when your hungry and sleepy. You cry till you find a proper position for you sleep. You sleep to my horrible singing.
You motivate me to move forward positively, overcoming the sense of melanchony that surrounds, at times. With every dawn you turn to be an amazing and exciting kid.
I am certainly blessed, to have you my baby. You taught me perseverance, creativity, high self esteem and much more. I really look forward to be an awesome mother, whom you will be really proud of.
With immense reverence, I owe my euphoria and all the experiences that comes with the journey, to you.
Image source: shutterstock
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Freelance writer for hire. I am an engineer who loves to tell stories. I write and paint them too. read more...
Women's Web is an open platform that publishes a diversity of views, individual posts do not necessarily represent the platform's views and opinions at all times.
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As parents, we put a piece of our hearts out into this world and into the custody of the teachers at school and tuition and can only hope and pray that they treat them well.
Trigger Warning: This speaks of physical and emotional violence by teachers, caste based abuse, and contains some graphic details, and may be triggering for survivors.
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