Week 19: Home Alone(ish)

This has been a quiet week. A's in Bangalore, and I've stayed back in Hyderabad. Getting on a night train four times in three weeks just seemed like too much... especially with the anomaly scan coming up. We haven't had a scan since week 13, so I'm (irrationally) anxious not to jinx it. He went and visited my parents and reassured me that all's well with my mum - or as well as can be. Fingers crossed.

I've been staying with the in-laws, who really do pamper me. I roll out of bed and am greeted with nuts and milk. Three huge meals follow, interspersed with lots of lovely treats. They spoil their grandchild more than I would - chocolate and sweets galore are passed on through me! The baby loves it, of course. It shoots around my stomach like a character out of Pacman afterwards. Ah, sugar highs. Always amusing.

In some ways, their home's really familiar. We moved a lot of our furniture there when we shifted to Toronto, so we now get to use 'our' dining table, or sleep in 'our' bed, albeit in a different house. 

Every time I sit in their hall, I smile at a very unusual center table. A & I bought it when I wanted us to have floor-level seating in our living room, and it's the single most expensive piece of furniture I've ever invested in. It's not even particularly practical (well, unless you're playing poker), but my God, it looked gorgeous in our house. Needless to say, the in-laws use it as a coffee table and sit on sensible couches, but it reminds me of the first ever house A & I set up.

For the last couple of days, the in-laws have both stayed home from work so that I 'don't get bored.' This is really sweet of them. I've been feeling a bit guilty because I've been on a writing spree where the world kind of shuts down around me. Hurrah for the mythical second trimester burst of energy, it finally seems to have set in!

... Mind you, it usually only arrives midway through the day. I've been waking up rather reluctantly. I go to bed at 10 and wait optimistically. I'm usually awake at 1, 3, 5, and 6. When the alarm goes off at 7:30, I want to throttle it. I don't do afternoon naps, so it's a pain when I don't sleep well in the night. I think the frequent wake-ups are because I'm wary about sleeping on my back. I start off on my left side, as prescribed, and wake up every so often to check if I'm still on my side. Oh well, if I get used to this routine, I'm sure I'll find it easier to wake up and feed the baby when I have to!

I've started venturing out on walks this week. I used to walk at least 3-4km in Toronto every day, but I haven't gone out too much since I moved to Hyderabad. That's mostly because we've been staying at the in-laws' place - I don't know the area too well, there's a TON of traffic (even for India!), no pavements, and, I hear, sidey guys. I compromised by going out before the sun sets, and wearing very conservative clothes. I can't say I enjoy the walks very much, but I'm happy to be out and about. The leg cramps I occasionally woke up to have disappeared.  

Next week, we'll hit the half-way mark! I look down at my stomach and wonder if it will double by the time we're through. I can't wait :)

Is this real life?

If I were writing a novel based on my pregnancy so far, any sane editor would tell me not to have quite so much going on - it just isn't realistic.

First, I quit my job, and travelled around for four months - I was pregnant for three of them. Then, my husband quit his job because he wanted to start his own company. His grandmother died before we could tell her we were having a baby. We moved back to India, and are trying to get used to it all. My mother fell sick and had to be operated on. And lately, it seems like my in-laws are determined to have us stay with them until the baby's born - an idea that really doesn't fit in with our plans.

Yesterday, A discovered why they were pushing so hard. It turns out my mum's surgery had been more serious than they'd let on. My family and my in-laws had decided it was best not to worry us with the news - they had to remove a couple of her toes. 

They only told A yesterday, after she was well out of any danger. He tells me she's okay now. But how is losing two toes okay, really? Objectively, I know it's better than losing her entire foot. She can still walk, and she assures me that she's not in any pain. In fact, she's characteristically cheerful about it all. 

But she turned sixty this month. She still has a good thirty to forty years of healthy living in her. It's heartbreaking to think that she won't be able to run around as I'm used to seeing her doing. It's such an integral part of her personality.

For the most part, I'm okay. She is, so how could I not be? But I think of her playing 'ten little fingers' with my niece. I think of a wedding photo where my dad slid on her toe ring. I think of morning walks on the beach, and treks through bazaars doing ardent shopping. And I mourn those toes, despite never having spared them too much thought before this. 

On another note, much as I disagree with the families' decision to keep the surgery's outcome from me, I'm touched by how protective everyone is, and how eager to see that I'm taken care of. Despite it all, because of it, I'm reminded again how lucky I am.

Week 18: Limbo

This week, R and I are annoyed. We have been in limbo for too long, and not the peaceful kind we hope our baby's floating in, either. No, we've remained at my in-laws' place, not knowing which city we'll live in, not knowing which hospital we'll go with, not having a doctor to consult, not having a scan which shows us all is well. 

And all this in the most sweltering heat, where the dirt overflowing from the dustbins seems to smell ten times more potent! We miss Toronto even more than usual this week. It's a pain fighting to get anything done in India. You have to bargain with the auto driver... glare suspiciously at his meter, which is invariably faulty... and remind him not to go at full speed over various speed breakers. R has been worried about one particularly violent jostle that we experienced, and keeps asking me to tell him if I've felt the baby moving since.

We have been tense and easy to snap, mercifully not at each other. The bright side of all this, of course, is that things always seem better when it's just the two of us, laughing at whatever it was that annoyed us so greatly. The lines at the diagnostic clinic, where an old man was shoved out of the way by the most odious couple. The fact that you can't find a decent restroom even at a cafe that charges over $3 for a cup of coffee (the completely unjustified inflation of prices in India without any corresponding improvement in service levels or quality!) The bloody customer care people at any office who always want to ask their supervisor, and in turn THEIR supervisor before committing to any answer.

India does not bring out the best in us, perhaps because we know it too well. Even when we went to a premier hospital in Hyderabad to check it out, I wondered suspiciously if they'd quoted us a rather incredible fee of 2,50,000 for just the delivery, just because we'd said we recently moved back to India from Canada. If there were any pregnancy symptoms this week, they were overridden by all the symptoms of just being back in India.

To add to the tension, my mum's been in the hospital this week. She dropped me off at the train station earlier this month, and apparently got stuck in the rain for five minutes before finding a cab. As a result, her specially-made diabetic shoes frayed, and cut into her leg, and caused a bacterial infection that antibiotics didn't cure. The upshot of it was that it took a 2.5 hour surgery to clear the wound, and she's going to be in the hospital for five days. Rain water. I repeat, bloody India. I don't feel very patriotic this week.

The worst part? I can't believe it's 18 weeks, 2 weeks since the baby should theoretically be able to hear me, and I haven't started reading to it, or even spoken to it, especially. It's hearing honks and swearing, and all kinds of other nonsense. My mum hasn't had a chance to send out the revised family tree I made to include the baby, my DIY nursery projects haven't started up... it's all just wrong, and not what I'd planned at all. As I've said before, I believe any other babies we'll have will be adopted, so I've a tendency to take this stuff a bit more seriously than most.

This morning, I caught myself thinking, "But this time is supposed to be about me! The universe is supposed to kowtow to me!" Fortunately before I could get too drawn into my little cocoon of self-pity, I remembered that they say that about your wedding day, and the day you deliver your baby, and all kinds of other days besides, so I should probably just stuff the hussy fit. And I did. Perspective, perspective. Just a couple of weeks more and we'll know what's what.

I'd suspect all my moodiness was just down to pregnancy hormones if R didn't seem equally put out. We desperately need a house of our own, and our new normal. Next week, R goes to Bangalore again - after thinking it over, I decided I really didn't feel up to the journey - and will hopefully have an answer on which city we settle down in by the end of the week.  

And meanwhile, when things seem particularly depressing, we've taken to sneaking in a pakoda or a paneer puff, or whatever else reminds us that India is a very special place, where the food, at least, always tastes like heaven. 

Week 17: Maybe Baby

The underlying theme this week has been, "Is there really a baby in there?" I woke up one morning, panicking at the feel of the flat stomach under my hand (as if I ever had a flat stomach pre-pregnancy, but whatever), and started Googling to see if there were possibly others who were still not showing 17 weeks in. How could you NOT show something the size of an apple? And yes, I've felt the occasional flutter, but I'm now convinced that it's just gas. I then woke up my husband to check what he thought. He was remarkably patient for someone who was woken up at 5am.

On the bright side, later in the week, the maid asked my mother-in-law if I was pregnant, the first person to suspect it without being told! The maid in Chennai, on the other hand, asked my mum if I was home for college vacations, and a family friend asked if I was going to tuitions when I was out on a walk one morning. My friends and I recently had a good rant-fest about over-mothery mothers, after which I didn't feel that I could smoothly slip in that I was pregnant. So yes, all in all, I was thrilled to be at least questioned about a possible pregnancy.

The evening following my panic attack, I was changing into my pyjamas, and R gaped at how much bigger I was now. I suppose the hugeness is really not evident in the clever clothes I wear, but it's a bit harder to hide without the camouflage. Even then, it's my recurring worry that the doctors in India will just take a look at my scan and say there's no baby in there, and that I'm just getting fat/having leg cramps because of the copious amounts of rice and milk I've been force fed lately! I haven't been near a set of scales lately, but I estimate I weigh at least 53kgs by now (I was 49 pre-pregnancy) - the joys of never having had any morning sickness, and being more diligent about my milk intake :)

The joys of being back in India also continue - I get opinions and advice galore, most of which makes very little sense at all. Sit down more often. Don't walk so fast. You stand up too much. You're too thin. Don't wear jeans. This stuff stopped being amusing but I'm trying to channel R's patience, and also remembering not to bother with anyone's opinion other than my doctor's. 'You should eat for two,' in particular, usually makes me want to eat someone's head off - 230 extra calories a day! It's an extra sandwich, if that! Indians and their need to over-eat. And then we wonder why people don't lose their baby weight post pregnancy.

We were in Bangalore this week, so that R could get a sense of the VC scene/tech talent. When we first came to India, he wanted to spend a couple of weeks at his parents' place because then we'd definitely move to Bangalore. However, after coming here, he's not sure if Hyderabad's a better place - there are a couple of interesting leads on the incubator front, and he knows the landscape here a bit better. Plus, it's lots cheaper.

I'm usually pretty zen about uncertainty and change, but I am vaguely anxious about finding a doctor/hospital without knowing which city we'll be in. To cover our bases, I checked out a couple of hospitals in Bangalore. They charge between 80K & a little over a lakh for a normal delivery without epidurals etc - I miss my insurance more than ever. So those are the flip sides of the start-up dream so far - uncertainty and hospital prices. Subjectively, it may make me a bit emo at times, but objectively (which, thankfully, is more usually my state of mind), we can well afford it, and don't really have to make a decision right away as I can do a one-off anomaly scan at any hospital I want.

It was lovely having a place of our own in Bangalore for a week. The one real downside of not knowing where we're going to stay full time is that we're currently still at my in-laws' place. And while it's a really comfortable place, and they're super nice to me, it's weird staying with anyone other than R for very long when you're in your late twenties. Also, my friends are all on the other side of town, and trundling 20km one-way in an auto is not my idea of fun these days. Ah well. We'll have a decision one way or the other by the end of week 20.

Weeks 15 & 16: The Shift

Week 15 was our last week in Toronto, and the days following it were our first in India (in two different cities!) so it's little surprise that it's mid-way through week 17 before I found time to write about anything.

Our last week in Toronto was hard - I was running around, saying goodbye to my favourite places and people. It became ten times harder because I was so tired that I kept procrastinating on my plans, doing one or two things a day instead of the four or five I'd optimistically calendared in. No matter how many months pregnant I get, I can't seem to process that I will be slower and less capable of rushing around than I was previously. And so, even on my last morning in Toronto, I found myself rushing to the AGO and the Toronto Reference Library; shopping for farewell presents and for final burritos (Burrito Bandidos is the BOSS). 

There was a technical error on a certain airline provider's website, resulting in A & my seats not being together. I could have lived with that, but I could noooot have lived without an aisle seat with my need to visit the loo every hour or so. The woman at the Pearson airport was super helpful when she heard I was pregnant - she shifted things around so that we'd most likely be able to switch seats and sit together, and even waived our slightly excess baggage fare. Sadly, she assumed I would need my husband to be happy, when really, I'd also need the loo.

We explained to the gentleman sitting in the aisle that I'd need to get up a lot, so if he wanted to, he could switch to either window or middle. Out of a sense of chivalrousness, he insisted that he'd rather be disturbed himself, than have me getting up every time he needed the washroom. Fair enough. Sadly, he fell asleep, and stayed asleep for pretty much the entire flight. Twelve hours. I snuck past him a couple of times, because, much to my surprise, I managed to stick to my usual long-haul flight strategy. This is where I stay awake throughout the flight + the next day until I finally crash in the night. It combats jet lag, for sure, but staying awake for 36 hours plus isn't everyone's cup of tea.

I was just patting myself on the back when, without warning, I wiped out in India. I slept all afternoon, I slept all evening, and then, I slept through the night as well! If it had been just the first day, I would have understood it, but that's been the case all week. I wake up at 8am, start feeling sleepy by 2pm, sleep till 7pm, and am happy sleeping at 10pm again. I don't think this is jet lag, it's just lag. Welcome to week 16. Where's that mythical boost of energy I was promised in the second trimester?

Week 16's been fun, because it was the week when we finally told our parents, and some close relatives. At first, I wanted to take pictures of everyone's reactions and compile them into a collage for the nursery, but I soon realized that Indians' reactions aren't necessarily the most capturable on camera. Facial reactions may be subdued, but the hubbub of excitement that follows has been so genuine that it's had me beaming from ear to ear as if I just found out I was pregnant as well. (Side note: I finally got an answer to the question that's always plagued me. Will relatives always exclaim about how much weight you've lost, even if you know for a fact you've put it on, because there's an apple-sized baby inside of you? ...Yes. They will.)

Of course, being pregnant in India is very different from being pregnant in Toronto, to say the least. Everyone keeps telling me to sit down, and not to bend, and to eat fruits. Oh, and to stay at home, and maybe not wear jeans quite so often (like they even fit any more). On the bright side, everyone here seems to find it perfectly acceptable for me to sleep all day long. The other great piece of news is that kurtas have never looked better on me. I'm finally curvy enough for them to look the way the tailor probably intended. And they conveniently flow enough to hide the bump which is quite evident, at least to me, by now. 

I'm always surprised when people talk to me for hours and don't seem to notice that I've a bit of a kangaroo pouch situation on. I've eaten more rice in the last week than I probably eat in a month in Toronto, so that's also contributing. The heat + the rice are making me slightly breathless when I eat too fast. I'm not sure that's a pregnancy symptom though, I think it's just related to being South Indian!

The really exciting thing about week 16 though, is that I think I've felt the baby flutter a couple of times. Apparently he/she decided to move at the same time that we did :)