Baby Loss Awareness Week

I read about Matilda Mae two years ago. Ever since, when people talk about babies, her face pops into my head. She is everything you'd imagine a baby to be. Gurgling, chubby, smiling. Full of life. Plump arms outstretched to embrace the world.

Not. Dead.

Baby Loss Awareness Week breaks my heart.

I read about the infants who should be here. Each one is etched into the hearts of those who knew them, but so few people get the chance to. It's unfair. It's cruel. I can't understand it.

I first encountered child mortality in a poem. And I thought - it isn't just the baby that dies. Hope does, too.

Over time, this cloud has circled closer to me, bearing down on people I care about. Friends have mourned, and fought to keep their marriages intact. They have battled depression, and moved on as best as they could. And through it all, despite the pain, no one talks about it.

Common wisdom says, "It will only make it worse."

Will it? Will it really make it worse to let it all out? Or does it just make it worse for those around the bereaved who don't know how they can help?

I don't know what to say. I can't begin to imagine the pain. But I do know this: a baby comes alive to its parents the minute they see two lines on a stick. Two months, six months, nine months after conception; one week, three weeks, three months after it's born. Some babies may not live among us for long. But we weave dreams of an entire lifetime for them the minute we know they exist. They can never be forgotten. Each was a person, full to the brim with possibilities and potential.

Light a candle for the Wave of Light this Wednesday. And remember the babies who should be among us, in more than just our memories.

Outside the Box

R,

Well, this is it. I leave tonight. We were laughing over our friends’ reactions to the news about my solo Europe trip, and you said, “To be fair, we were equally thrown when we first heard about P & S getting married but living in different cities.”

I sputtered an indignant, “Bu-wuh-nu-no! That’s completely different! This is for four weeks,” but, of course, you're right.

We say we’ve moved past the racial and religious prejudices of our parents’ generation, but we’re just as judgmental about things that don’t fit cookie-cutter molds of expected behavior. 

Over the last couple of years, there’ve been more instances of people pushing the boundaries and daring to do what they felt was right from them. P & S deciding their careers were in a great place and neither should compromise and move until they’d an equivalent offer in the city where the other person was.  J & D deciding to immigrate to Oz after a vacation there because they fell in love with the place – and willing to go there without a job to make it work. O saying she wanted to quit her job of seven years and do nothing for a while. 

 These, and others, are accounts which we hear and are tempted to raise a skeptical eyebrow at. We mouth the p.c. lines about how liberating it sounds, and how we’re so happy they’re happy, all the while thinking, “Wow, better you than me.”

We’re a patronizing lot. What does anyone standing outside know about where people are coming from, or what will happen in their lives? Yes, T & K were in a ‘long distance marriage,’ and she cheated on him; and E had to come back from the US penniless after four years looking for a job to no avail. But not all lives follow the same patterns, and everyone has a right to take the path that they think is right for them at the time. 

With not a little shame, I’ve resolved to try harder not to accept unconventional choices condescendingly, and to respect the fact that the people making these choices deserve the same respect that I’m due when I make my decisions.

-A.

Me Time

R,

Our generation prides itself on being super-duper progressive and open minded. Commenting about caste is enough to set off most Indian Elders’ gaskets, but we’re a lot harder to shock (I always anticipated our kids having to work really hard at it). Apparently, we’ve found the one thing that’ll do the trick.

When we talk about my plans for the summer, there’s dead silence from our friends, followed by hearty well wishes, interspersed with some bafflement. Why would I want to be away from you for so many weeks? They know my plan is to travel through Europe, but really, is everything okay with the two of us? 

Of course, last year when you went on a ‘boys’ trip’ to Africa, we didn’t hear any objections. If I had to paraphrase common wisdom, it’d probably go something like this: Boys will be boys, but as for girls… well, shouldn’t they just be girls? If I’d been single, I imagine this trip would have been perceived as free spirited and adventurous. Given I’m married, however, it becomes *ominous tones* Free-Spirited, not to mention Adventurous. 

There’s no doubt in my mind that I’d rather do this trip with you than alone. However, I saved up money for the last few years so I could eventually take time off and do my own thing. Not everyone has that luxury – you still have your 9 to 5 job and you can’t drop it to come traipsing through Europe with me. Should that mean I don’t go, or wait till you can come along, or settle for an eight day trip instead of the month long itinerary I had in mind? 

Honestly, we’re both givers in this relationship. It takes us a ridiculous amount of time to settle on anything because we’re busy trying to please the other person. I’d figure out a compromise on this trip if I had any hint at all that you wanted me to. You, on the other hand, don’t want me to compromise on anything; which is a feeling I fully reciprocate. I love how this barely needed a discussion, because it’s just not a big deal. I especially love how our parents see it the same way. They’re a lot cooler than we give them credit for, sometimes.

Putting this in perspective, it’s a month away when we’ve a lifetime together. It’s the same reason I don’t take you to my book club meetings and you go and play squash on your own. Yes, we’re one unit, and we choose to be together - but that doesn’t mean we stop being individuals. 

Happily,

A.

Ever After

R,

Nothing makes me feel older than having divorced friends. It always strikes me how it seems to just creep up on you. Here are two people, getting into a marriage with the best of intentions, and all the optimism in the world. They’re affectionate and respect each other, both of which tend to be qualities which last a fair bit longer than romantic love or lust alone would. There are months of happy updates on travels and domestic harmony. Then, all of a sudden, there’s a radio silence, before the announcement.

Disagreements about money, babies, cities, professions, families, whether they really found the right person after all. It’s impossible to tell from the outside whether those are good reasons, or issues they could have resolved. Hearing about a divorce always makes me sad (and, I’ll admit, a tiny bit worried, because many of these couples seemed like great ones), but in a way, I’m so proud of our generation for having the courage to say they value themselves enough to get themselves out of an unhealthy situation. 

It seems far more mature than the alternative that Indians before this generation chose. My parents make such a great couple, but it occurred to me that that could have been a matter of chance. After all, when K was talking to my mum the other day, she asked, “What if the in-laws are terrible people who say I shouldn't work, and criticize my cooking, and my husband doesn't stand up for me at all?”, and my mother said, “Well, that’s unfortunate, but you’d try to discuss it and work it out.” 

Which certainly makes sense, but K persisted. “What if it still didn't work and I was worried for my physical safety?” 

“You’d still try to find a way to make it work,” said mum.

I’d like to think she was saying that because it’s theoretical, but we both know family friends who’ve stuck out tough situations without complaint for decades. It could just as easily have been my mum who ended up with someone who wasn't as perfect for her as my dad is. I’m not saying all these tough situations involved guerrilla in-laws or physical abuse. But who defines what an unhealthy living situation is? A simple thing like having a husband who took me for granted could drive me up the wall. I like the fact that our generation has the guts for both husbands and wives to discuss what they feel they’re due. I like the fact that we’re no longer silent. In 99 cases out of a 100, the marriage is happier for the discussion than it would've been without it.

Maybe a few generations down, we’ll have more live-in relationships and fewer marriages, or easy-come-easy-go attitudes towards marriage and divorce. Right now, though, despite the fact that I’ve more divorced friends at 26 than my parents have in their sixties, I think the state of marriage in India is getting to the best place it’ll ever be.

A.

Me & you, but mostly me

R,

When we moved to Canada last summer, I was like a kid let loose in a candy store. There were festivals and fun events everywhere I looked! I didn’t have a job yet, which meant I’d all the free time in the world to check out plays and food markets. I used to play a game when I made the inevitable small talk with strangers (Canadians are so polite!) – how many sentences could I get out before bringing up the fact that I was married? 

“So, what do you do?”

“Nothing yet, I moved here last week.”

“Oh, fun! Why Canada?”

… One sentence was all I usually got before having to say, “Well, my husband’s job transferred him, so we moved here.”

I don’t mind saying I’m married, obviously, or I wouldn’t have tattooed a ring on my finger. I’m just not used to marriage being the thing that defines me. 

I had a pact with a colleague, back when we were trading witticisms about wedding photos taking over Facebook (it was like a plague!). We solemnly agreed to never inflict couple-love photos as our profile pictures, or put up lovey dovey status messages, or basically act like the world revolved around coupledom.

I stuck to that vow, because said status messages make me puke a little, and want to tell the perpetrators to get offline pronto. And because I’ve about four hundred unnecessarily tech-savvy relatives on Facebook, who are progressive enough to get how the world wide web works, but not yet modern enough to think a husband and wife should display affection on a public forum. (“She ‘likes’ everything he posts! Chee, no shame!” Direct quote.)

I also find myself rolling my eyes when strangers instantly bring up their spouse/partner and then pepper the conversation with references to them in every sentence – that was mandatory at 14, still cute at 18, but really needing you to grow-up-and-find-yourself-please at 25. So I think what I hated about my new-to-Canada intro was the fact that I could be mistaken for one of those people.

When I make small talk with strangers now, I have a glib “I’m the x-y-z at ABC company,” to the “What do you do?” question. That’s clearly my new identity elevator pitch, but it’s no closer to defining me than the line I used before. It’s an even toss-up whether I’d rather be defined by you or by my job. Nearly three years into our marriage, I may even feel affectionate enough to make one my profile picture (I noticed afore mentioned colleague has liberally sprinkled her feed with wedding photos, and I shudder to think of the year ahead). 

- A.

Honesty is the best policy… probably

R,

You’re very vocal about your dissatisfaction with ‘Something Borrowed’ being on TV every alternate weekend (personally, I think you should just be grateful we're not subjected to yet another Keeping up with the Kardashians marathon). I have nothing to say in defense of the movie, or even the book. The 5.9 on IMDB seems about right. There’s this other book by the same author, Emily Giffin, which I was reading. It’s called ‘Love the One You’re With,’ and it’s about a woman who bumps into her ex, accidentally, and then on purpose.

She was clearly asking for trouble, but let’s forget about her, and think about people whose fates don't lie in the hands of an author. Emily Post would probably advise the well-bred to steer clear of situations where they could run into former paramours, and I quite agree. However, what does etiquette demand if your paths do happen to cross? Are you meant to react at all? Treat the ex the way you’d expect your partner to, if the situation were reversed?

I know some people who say they won’t tell their future spouses about past relationships. I see their point. I’ve seen arranged marriages, where you can tell that the prospective bride/groom is great, but just won’t get why their spouse bothered seeing someone in the past, or why they’d bring it up. It’s not the done thing in India to talk about uncomfortable things, after all. It’s definitely a moral gray area though – if you didn’t do anything you’re ashamed of, why feel the need to hide it? Consider the microscopic mind space the former flame takes up in your average day, versus the mega explosion it could trigger if the topic’s brought up, and the reasoning's self evident.

I’m an advocate of selective omission. I define this as telling people what they’re capable of processing (there’s no need to tell my grandmother about what my friend got up to at the club, for instance). With India’s varying moral scales, that’s just self-preservation, assuming you want to retain your sanity. 

My only concern with the arranged-marriage-selective-disclosure scenario is that it could set the precedent until you’ve completely reinvented yourself for your spouse. A lifetime is a long time to be someone else convincingly. I can’t imagine the fireworks that would fly if news of a former flame slipped out after two years of marriage, instead of on the second date pre-marriage.

As you know by now, and probably regret at times, there are absolutely no omissions when it comes to me and you. With the amount of sleep talking I do, you’ll probably learn all my deep, dark secrets anyway.

- A.