Notes on a pregnancy

'Unconventional' was the name of the game when it came to my first-ever pregnancy. I was aware that my biological clock was ticking but had never really paid much heed to it because the time had never seemed right.

When I say this now I realise that the circumstances were not to blame, I was!

I was just not psychologically ready even a few years ago. Call it hedonism or lack of taking my life seriously, thinking about being a mother was never really on my mind. 

Things came to pass in a very bizarre manner. Due to severe migraine headaches I had started playing fast and loose with my oral contraceptives...in other words, we had stopped taking any protection whatsoever. This also happened in the period after my boyfriend's heart attack! By the time 6-7 months had elapsed, we had started joking about the both of us being infertile. At one point after turning 35, I noticed a sharp drop in my menstruation and met my gynaecologist about it. She told me that this was due to aging and was irreversible. She also suggested that if I wanted to have a child now would be the time to sit up and start planning seriously before my plumbing refused to comply. This conversation in August 2020, truly speaking, got the cogs in my brain turning, about having a biological offspring.

Meanwhile, the Covid 19 pandemic was raging through the world, killing people, crippling economies and adversely affecting everything from mental health to socialization as we knew it. In the midst of this very inopportune time, after the first wave had just receded, I realised I had missed my 'otherwise-like-clockwork' periods in the month of November 2020. 

Well, I think of myself as a pragmatic person who does not put much stock into destiny and synchronicity. However, to this day I remain stunned, by how the psychological orientation of considering motherhood somehow caused me to conceive within just 3 months... and this after almost a year's worth of unmindful infertility. Unbelievable!

On the first of December 2020 I saw the two pink lines on the home pregnancy tests. To be honest, I didn't feel elated or particularly joyous. I was aware of the situation I was in. I was 36, unmarried and my boyfriend was neck deep in a legal battle with his ex about the custody of their 10 year old. It wasn't looking great for this little bundle of cells and I was determined not to get attached or even to hope at all at this stage.

The news of my pregnancy was met with mixed feelings even by my partner. I doubt he knew what to feel. This was way too new, awkward and huge for us to handle and the next day seated at the gynaecologist's chamber I found myself asking her more about safe abortion methods and timelines to remove a foetus rather than giddy happy mom-to-be questions.  

Both of us went back home and spoke to our respective parents. His family was shocked and didn't think this was the right time to go ahead especially because of the pre-existing custody issues surrounding his son. My mother was surprisingly supportive and spoke about it in terms of 'if not now then when'. This was the first time I felt a glimmer of hope and allowed myself to consider the possibility that this could be a reality. 

Within that week I walked into the clinic next door to have a USG scan as directed by the doctor. It was a rude shock to discover that the sonography was transvaginal and somewhat intrusive rather than the serene over the belly sequences they portray in movies. The technician performing the scan spoke kindly to me and explained that the sac of black fluid I could see on the screen was my amniotic fluid-filled uterus and the tiny grey dot in that lake of black was my single intrauterine gestation. I was made to hear the heartbeat which I recall being decidedly odd.....so loud and fast for a 6 week-old bundle of cells. I poked around my mind, searching for those gratifying feelings of joy and warmth at the first encounter with what was to become my baby. There was just queasiness and a weird feeling at having been through my first scan. 

We decided to wait out the first trimester before talking to anyone about this pregnancy, apart from our parents. I recall those winter months fondly as I often forgot that I was carrying. The only nod to my pregnancy was the fact that I signed up with the babycenter website and started receiving weekly updates about the size and growth of the foetus. These weekly emails about the olive, lemon or grape in my tummy would also tell me that I was supposed to feel intense nausea, some dizziness, aversion to certain foods and an overall sense of being ill-at-ease. On the contrary I felt great! My hunger pangs began and I ate ravenously. 

Cravings-wise I did treat myself well. Never before had I had such a crazy sweet tooth. I wanted ice-cream, desserts in all possible forms and even Indian syrupy sweets. I stopped at nothing. It must be said that the winter months saw a decline in Covid cases and thus some cautious socialization ensued, albeit with masks and sanitisers in place. We met our friends almost every Saturday at the club and played games to while away the evenings. I also hung out with my college-buddy separately too. 'Eating out' and 'eating my heart out' both were happening in full swing for me and the weight gain had begun slowly but steadily. 

The other very noticeable change that happened, was with respect to my facial skin. My face erupted in fat, juicy pimples that were painful to the touch and quite ugly. Each 4-5 days as one pimple shrivelled away two new ones took it's place. There was nothing much I could do save use a medicated face wash and just hope and pray for them to run their bitter hormonal course. Cutting to the middle of the second trimester...I am glad to report that they did disappear completely. 

I kept up with my gynaec visits and numerous scans and tests. My partner was present with me for almost all of them. I recall the feeling of wanting to see the baby at scans like meeting an acquaintance whom I was vaguely fond of. The whole concept of 'this growing thing is inside me' still continued to feel very bizarre and I saw the scans more as a mental meet-and- greet than maternal-feeling filled tear-jerkers. 

 The other change that I noted in myself was the weepiness. This came as a shocker to someone who has prided herself on having a good handle on her emotions. I found myself tearing up when someone said or did something kind (or perceivedly unkind) to me, anyone around me or even on screen. It got to an embarrassing stage before I understood that this was not my doing but my hormones were responsible. Since then, I have not really changed back into who I used to be. Maybe this change is permanent! Shudder!

By the end of January, the first trimester was officially over so we cautiously began telling people our unconventional good news. I met friends in various cafés and restaurants and broke the news to them. My best friend from school was the happiest of them all. She quickly became a champion for my pregnancy, having been through hers just 3.5  years ago. Important information and delicious home-cooked food poured out of her in streams and I tried my best to absorb it all. Other friends were also very happy for me and seemed supportive. My partner and I jointly broke the news on one club evening to our couple friend. They were very happy for us too. The tricky part was telling my partner's brother who lives abroad. That took a few more weeks of procrastination but the result was great! More support and love came our way. 

February rolled around and I started making whale and manatee jokes about myself. On a more serious note, as would-be parents we wanted to know more about the legal aspect of having a child out of wedlock in modern India. So one fine spring evening we biked it to the High Court area and met a lawyer who explained to us that relationships can be illegitimate but children are not. Legally, unless a father denies paternity, a child born outside wedlock has the same rights as one born after marriage. Much reassured, we rode back home.

 My 36th birthday felt quite special as it was the last one where I was not someone's mommy. The staggered celebrations continued well into March. I specifically remember being on the rooftop of Ozora, on my birthday evening with my partner, amidst loud music (not to our taste) and having lots of fun about how small his building looked in the distance. We then got stuff packed for home to recover the non-refundable cover charges, feeling quite chuffed with ourselves. 

Work-wise my months were absolutely full. From January 2021 I had taken on the role of Night Duty Supervisor which meant sacrificing 7-11pm of my weeknights to escalating suicidal cases. Not the right job for a mom-to-be? I found it stimulating and it paid well. Made absolute pals out of the counsellors who called to discuss cases. That apart, my client load had also increased with private clients and those from 1to1 vying for time. I also began doing webinars for multiple companies which paid more than sessions and were very well received. The anxiety of spending too much for the delivery and not being able to work for 3 months overtook my mind and I put myself to work like a slave-driver. 

Life had settled into a rhythm of splitting my week between 2B and 5B. There were tremendous tensions throughout April, ever since we told my partner's son that he was going to become a big brother soon. The boy absolutely flipped over with joy and tearfully refused to go back to his mother every week thereafter. The harrowing Mondays became a part of our timeline till early May when he absolutely refused to go and stayed back at my partner's place. After that the legal processes began in earnest and as far as I forsee, they will go on till the child stops being a minor.

 

Another milestone day I remember was from mid-May when I had to get a glucose tolerance test done from a clinic at Salt Lake. My gynaecologist was nice enough to suggest this other clinic as the one close to my house was infested with Covid positive cases. So in preparation for this daunting test, we dissolved 100 gms of glucose powder in a litre of water and packed milky oats for my partner's breakfast because hey, he was allowed to eat while I was supposed to starve! We set off for Salt Lake early on a Saturday morning. The clinic was easy to locate and what I remember vividly is that inside it had  wooden sofas from which the cushions had been removed for sanitisation reasons. This is where we spent the next 4 uncomfortable hours of our lives as I had to give samples of blood and urine every hour on an empty stomach barring the glucose water of course. In the midst of all this I even had a scan done. By the end of 2.5 hours I started to feel dizzy and weak. The number of patients had reduced considerably by then and throwing decorum and caution to the wind, I lay down on that hard, unforgiving wooden bench with my head on his lap to rest. It felt so calming and so right. Like the world was passing us by and we wee sitting there in absolute peace. The tests, eventually, got done and we came back home after having some snacks. 

My anxiety peaked sometime in June. I had multiple meltdowns mostly to do with being unprepared for the baby and the lockdown making everything very difficult to procure. Talking to my mother or my partner barely helped because they kept pooh-poohing my fears as baseless and made vague reassurances about getting everything ready when the time came. Needless to say, these did nothing to allay my raging worries. Tears happened, helplessness was felt and my unvaccinated status was rued to a great extent. Eventually I confided in my partner's mum about not having anything ready for the baby. What began on my part as a tactic to switch her attention from the grandchild's holiday homework, ended in her buying me a 53 piece newborn baby set. It was the first tangible reminder that there was going to be another little person who would be here in my space and he/she would use these tiny, cute, useful things. Quietened me down considerably. 

The highlight of my life at home surely were my cats Simba and Fluffy. Simba was of course my son, my baby boy, who had this rhythm of very vocally announcing his arrival into the house, demanding and consuming his food and then lying down beside me on the bed with the air conditioner on for cuddles and long naps. His equation with his daughter was sometimes loving licks and sometimes disturbingly violent and incestuous fights. It felt great to have them both around to channelise that 'immense reservoir of love-for-felines' that I kept assuring Simba, would remain unchanged with the addition of a human baby in my life!

Another afternoon in June my bestie sent me loads and loads of goodies in lieu of the baby shower I could not physically have. The baby book made me tear up...it was so cute! Her handmade bread, cake and pot pie were savoured and relished for days. 

This blog post about my pregnancy cannot be completed without a mention of season 13 of MasterChef Australia 2021. Every Monday to Friday I tuned in religiously after 9:30pm to watch the latest episode. I had a favourite for the title, I was invested in contestants and judges and discussed the same with friends who were watching too. In a way, when I found my brain too fraught to deal with TV series, this was the exact show that hit the spot for me! 

Very unexpectedly, my paternal aunt sent me an array of food in the form of a socially distanced shaad. Never before had I sat down to a meal thus laid out, so it was very exciting and I felt very special. I didn't eat the fish she sent of course but the rest of it was yummy and I thanked her profusely. 

1st of July brought my sister home from Paris. It was initially nice to have her around and we did see a few movies together, as is our custom. She came to my last scan, before the delivery, with me. There were also a lot of tensions because she remains as thoughtless and unempathetic about other people's needs as ever and constantly kept focusing on her 30th birthday shopping and celebrations. I started feeling fraught again and quite highly strung as each demand fulfilled brought on another three new tasks to do for our gluten-free Parisienne. She did cause me sadness and stress that I did not need in the run up to my delivery but I tried to bounce out of the negative mindset and focus on tasks I had to get done before the surgery.

One other additional stressor was our gynaecologist who sprung an extra boost in her fees at us just at the last moment leaving me feeling angry and helpless. We fumed and fretted and considered other gynaecologists and hospitals. In our last meeting before D- Day with her, she agreed on an amount but again with just 48 hours before delivery she mentioned that we might have to pay her more, separately. At this point I found my stress levels shooting through the roof so I passed the case on to my partner. Fortunately, on the call with him, she just negotiated revoking the discount she had discussed and we decided to give in and go ahead.

The last weekend before my Monday surgery saw me nervous and restless. I was getting blood, Covid, ECG Echo tests done on the Saturday morning, taking steroid shots as advised by my doctor to prepare the baby's lungs, packing my hospital bag for a 4 day stay and generally oscillating between a terrifying fear of being sliced open and excitement about the newcomer. It was a lot. Strangely enough, the nerves made me talk more, think faster and somehow want to interact with the friends and well-wishers who called and messaged to wish me luck. 

Sunday afternoon baby daddy came over for some errands and to accompany me for what I kept dubbing as ' the last supper'. We finished our main tasks, had a lovely Chinese takeaway meal and slept for a good hour or so. My tension-fevered brain calmed down for that time. I actually rested and felt much better for it. Woke up and made some tea. Finalised travel and admission plans for the next day which was D Day and then he left! 

This was room 1450 of the 4th floor of AMRI Mukundapur hospital on the morning of 12th July 2021. I got admitted, changed into hospital gowns and clicked this picture. 

And this was the culmination of my nine months and 9 days of pregnancy! :)