Weeks 37-39: Catching up on everything

I'm so overdue on this post. I intended to write it ages ago, then put it off thinking I'd write it after my 37+3 check-up, after the sugar/thyroid check following that appointment, after my 38 week check-up. I guess you could say I've been giving in to thoughts on jinxing and superstition.... plus, I'm just plain great at procrastination!

Reaching week 37 meant I no longer need to worry about 'preterm' labour. My doctor's told me at every appointment since week 36 that I could go into labour any time since I'm carrying a 'smaller' baby. I don't mind hearing it and willing her to be wrong (as long as the kick counts are normal, I'm happy to have baby cook in there for as long as possible). I'm still working for a few clients, cooking, and handling basic household chores, so there's enough to distract me from obsessing about this stuff. In fact, I usually indulge in obsessive worst-case prophesying only the morning of an appointment, and right after. That's also why I invariably treat myself a little every Saturday evening, after my weekly checkup :) 

At 37+3, I was meant to have my first internal exam. I wasn't looking forward to it much, because A couldn't be there, so my father (who'd come into town that morning) would be. Awks. However, after feeling my belly, the doctor said that while the baby's head was down, it wasn't engaged yet, so she'd rather wait. I'd put on 300 grams in a week, which was better than the week before... but she wanted to check for thyroid and sugar again, just in case. She also reiterated that she'd be willing to wait up to 42 weeks for me to go into labour naturally, but that she thought it would be a whole lot sooner. And she said the baby would be small, which was sad because at this point I was finally looking pregnant, rather than just a bit tubby. To my surprise, my dad didn't seem worried at all, and even said that I'd been a small baby, but had done well on the outside.

We attended a session on ergonomics, pain relief, and third trimester do's & don'ts after that. Dad was very interested, especially after I cross-questioned his preconceived notions a bit ("Pain relief takes away from the beauty and glory of natural birthing don't you think?" "I think that's a myth perpetrated by women from a generation who didn't have options. I'm not saying I'll necessarily take them, but how can you, who can't even feel the pain, decide how much glory I should endure?"). He got very enthu about how much medicine had changed and what thorough professionals the doctors at the clinic were. He learned a lot, apparently, and kept telling my parents and in-laws nifty little tips he'd picked up. His enthusiasm is so cute. And he loved the cheese sandwiches served there too!

My mum's staying on in Hyderabad until the baby arrives, and after. I realized I have a hard time relinquishing control of my kitchen, or indeed my house, but I'm learning. I usually try to at least prep for her, or cook a dish or two. I know she probably finds it weird because I don't lift a finger at home... their home, I mean. Direct quote: "I didn't know you could cook so well!" I've no idea how I got to the age of 28 without cooking my parents a single thing. As much as I'm possessive over my own kitchen, I'm equally uncomfortable in anyone else's. Go figure. Anyway, she's been a little paranoid about how much I still do around the house, as well as in terms of yoga/exercise. She won't let me go out alone. Crossing the road is out of the question. Drives me a little batty, but I suppose I can live with it for a few weeks. As I keep telling her, even with this amount of exercise + a vigilant diet, for some reason my sugar levels lately have been coming back just normal/slightly high. Not for a normal person, but for a pregnant person.

I still don't waddle, hurray! But my face is chubby, my belly button becomes an outie whenever I eat a lot or exercise, and I have a linea negra so prominent that Anil Kapoor would blush. Those were the three other pregnancy symptoms I was hoping to avoid... but I guess they don't really impact me at all, especially since the tests confirmed I don't have any issues with my thyroid (so my face's chubbiness is all me). My skin is also way dry, despite moisturizing, AND drinking close to 4 liters every day. I officially gave up on it. It should come back to normal soon enough. As for my belly, after rising like a souffle, it's now dropped a bit with the baby. This is causing me to wake up and worry about whether it's still in there and kicking... kind of a second trimester recap.

A & my mom both came to my 38 week appointment, but the doctor was prepping for surgery. This meant we had to meet her in the sterile rooms upstairs, and my mum couldn't come in because of a recent foot surgery which means she can't wear any footwear except her special ones. So A & I were alone for our first internal - thank god. The doctor got in there with more ease than I thought she would. I don't know what my pain threshold is, but I do know injections and internal exams don't bother me. There was a bit of intense pressure as she tried to see how far she could push me, but that was the worst of it. No bleeding after or anything. And she said the mouth was open, I was ready for labour, but that the discharge looked 'clean' so she wasn't worried about Group B Strep or anything else. I was super relieved at the 'clean' comment, because she's been asking about increased/smelly discharge for a while now, and I keep telling her it's all normal - I would hate to think I missed reporting something! And then, because my sugar level on the last test was high, she needed me to get a glucometer and give her 4 blood sugar readings a day for three days.

That's where I am now. 38+6, and poking myself daily. Well, my mom's poking me. She has experience and is so much better at it than I would be, so thank God she's here. She did say though that she's barely able to think about how much it must hurt me, so she's convinced now that being in the labour room would worry her + stress me out too much :) That's good, because I was feeling guilty about not even considering having anyone except A there. Technically, he's terrified too, but he says he wants to be there for me anyway.  I of course have my typical Rani of Jhansi face on, and barely notice needle pokes or the crampy back ache that's just starting to happen. It really is mostly ignorable so far.

My readings sometimes come back normal, sometimes low, sometimes high. I know that I couldn't eat healthier if I tried. I mostly eat like I have diabetes anyway, even when I'm not pregnant. And for the last few months, I've eaten better than anyone I know + done more than anyone I know who's this far along. So it's scary to think that if my levels are STILL sometimes high, then it's literally out of my control. And it doesn't keep me from beating myself up any. Could that be causing it? I don't know.

That said, we made it so far. 8 days to go till my due date by LMP, 11 if we go with the date that I know is more accurate, and 14 to the due date that I most want (yes, I have a lot of patience, and am really not too uncomfortable at all). I check WhenToExpect.com and SpaceFem.com daily for changing odds of when I'll go into labour... and then I choose not to believe them either, because I really really want a Valentine's alone with A, and the baby to come on our engagement anniversary! (It was conceived the week of our wedding anniversary).

I'm really hoping that seeing my sugar readings report day after won't influence my doctor to change the delivery plan or say I need to have the baby sooner. I have an amniotic fluid scan on Saturday as well, so that could make a difference too. Fingers crossed and prayers firmly in place. I just want a natural healthy everything for my baby, as I've had all my life. Either way, I've stopped procrastinating on a few things. 

The family heirloom cradle will be delivered today, which is very exciting. I'm also starting to pack my hospital bag, and should be done by day after. The bit I'm most excited about is the gift basket I'm making for A. It has chocolate champagne bottles, chocolate cigars, and diapers with funny notes on them! My mum's worried he'll see them, but as I keep telling her - I once hid a 1kg cake and a giant whiteboard from him for 1.5 days. He isn't the kind that notices additions to the house :)

I'm also working on birth announcement templates and things like that today (yes, I'm very organized when I want to be). And tomorrow, the thing I've been putting off forever - nighty shopping, argh! I feel too young for nighties, especially those open front ones. Also, tomorrow's when I download my movies/books/TV series stuff onto my tablet, and hand off the baby's clothes to be washed. 

Then I should be all set, no matter what.

Week 29: Pre-Launch Party for Baby A

A launched his website this week! The response has been overwhelming, especially considering it's still a pre-launch at this stage, that'll be fully ready in a fortnight. We also had a pre-launch party for Baby #2, as I refer to ours, since A's company's clearly the first born. My family threw us the South Indian version of the baby shower. This doesn't resemble any other shower, so here are some highlights of the valaikappu & seemantham function:

- Since we were combining some religious rituals (seemantham, homam) with the social shower (valaikappu), it had to be held in month six or eight. The social function alone is held in months five or seven. We held mine at the start of the eighth month, and I blessed my doctor for all the exercise she's been making me do, because all the sitting cross-legged on the floor & jumping up would have done me in otherwise. It's a workout like you wouldn't believe.

- The 'auspicious' time for the ritual was deemed to be before 6am. That is, we had to get started at around 5.15am. And, with breaks, we'd end at around 11.30am. Also, there were to be 4 outfit changes in that time; 3 of which I didn't know how to get on. In my defense, very few people do. These are special, long, nine-yards sarees that married women get to wear for religious functions in their own households, so the opportunities to wear them are somewhat limited. 

Since I had to rely on someone else to get my sari on, I had to wake up at... wait for it... 3am, and bathe. Then, apart from the sari, someone had to do my hair up the way it was at our wedding - a long plait down my back, with jewels and flowers all woven in. 

- The valaikappu, or social function, is a women's thing, where my mum kicked off the proceedings. She put three bangles, or kappus, on each hand - one made of a neem stick, one made of gold, and one made of silver. The gold & silver ones will be melted and made into jewellery for the baby once it's born. After this, several relatives took turns putting multicoloured glass bangles on my hands, until there were 43 glass bangles in all. These are technically not supposed to come off till the delivery, but there's no way I can manage that. I do have a nice DIY project planned for the nursery with them though, so it's not like they'll go to waste. 

- After breakfast and an outfit change, we had a homam, a ceremonial ritual where A & I had to do whatever the priest told us to - chiefly repeat a lot of prayers. A actually did most of what was required. After a while, I was even told to go sit on a chair leaving him alone in front of the prayer space. Interesting to note that even in pregnancy, patriarchy doesn't waver, and it's still the male who's responsible for the baby's wellbeing. The most memorable part of the homam was being led to a chair, and having A dunk a bucket full of water over my head. The Ice Bucket Challenge, Iyer style. Bangalore's about 16 degrees, so even with a bit of warm water mixed in, this is probably the reason I've been sniffling and sore-throaty since. A was super apologetic, poor thing.

- I had about ten minutes to change out of the wet sari and everything else, into yet another nine yards sari. About ten people worked on me, while I tried not to get my drippy hair on the silk sari. I assume this is a way to stave off any modesty you may have about showing your body to strangers pre-labour. Oddly enough, I didn't really care, as any strange bulges can happily be attributed to the baby. More chanting and so on followed, again mostly led by A. Then we had everyone shower akshatham and blessings on us - that's over fifty people throwing rice our way. And in yet another weird tradition unique to Tams, A was asked to squeeze milk into my nostril. The priest kept checking, "Did it go in? No, really?" We both quickly assured him it had.

- Everyone who came gifted us money, sweets, and fruits. The sweets trigger my diabetes alarm, though the fruits are much appreciated; especially as I'm going through three a day in an attempt to keep up my fiber (did I mention I had a hemorrhoid erupt when I woke up at 3am? I'm surprised I made it through the day). And arr, I have even more gold now. I did ask my parents to invest in bond certificates or something else instead, but they refused to listen and bought me a bracelet as well. Plus my maternal uncle gifted me a beautiful set of long gold earrings that look exactly like the fake jewellery I wear more frequently. 

- Although everything wrapped up by noon, there was another outfit change, some rituals from A's side of the family, a couple more hours of socializing, photo taking, and at least trying to help my parents as they took care of all the work that had to be done. And then it took an hour to undo my hair and pack all the clothes and jewellery up. Suffice to say everyone was in bed by 4pm in an attempt to recover!! 

I should have been more shattered, but was riding on adrenaline. And, honestly, though over fifty people showed up, I really did know and like everyone there - unlike at the wedding where faces started to blur into each other as over seven hundred people came. Knowing everyone and getting to talk to each of them made the whole day feel quite personal and relevant. A & I were in our best 'we're-a-team' mode and kept pulling faces to make each other laugh, apart from trading jokes and running interference if the other person looked like they needed rescuing. At the end of it all, seated in front of the priest and all, we shared a fist bump. I'm glad the videographer recorded that bit :D

Week 28: Hello, Baby!

I think I'm tired, but I just can't seem to (a) get to sleep, (b) stay asleep, (c) wake up, or (d) get out of bed. It's like a very weird episode of Rip Van Winkle here.

I can't help thinking that if I just pushed myself, I'd get out of bed despite the exhaustion. I put that hypothesis to test with a morning show of Interstellar - the early show was the only one which had tickets available on a special 4D screen. I managed the movie, but I draaaagged myself through the rest of the day. So ok, this staying in bed for an hour longer in the mornings (probably) isn't just me being lazy/self-indulgent then.

There was a bit more 4D in my week - our first ever non-2D scan! It was a freebie I snagged off an internet ad, in addition to getting 20% off on the scan. Remarketing is awesome. This was our 28 week growth scan, and our first one at the hospital where I'll deliver. It's the best scan I've ever done, and made me really glad we chose this hospital. First of all, they actually started the scan on time, instead of making me wait for an hour - that's a first. Second, they have a big flatscreen TV on which images are beamed, so that you & your partner see exactly what the doctor's seeing. And third, 4D! A & I chorused our amazement as Chubster 'smiled', waved, and rubbed its eyes.

The sonographer kept saying how cute & chubby the baby was (although it weighed the requisite 1.16kg), and that it seemed to love the camera. No idea where it got either of those traits from, certainly not either of us! We got some lovely snapshots to take home as well as a video CD - another first. God, I love The Birthplace. If you're in Hyderabad, I highly recommend it, pricey as it is.

I sent the pics to my parents and A's parents in the next five minutes. Mine were excited ('Ooh, it looks like a boy! It looks like YOU!' Not sure if there's an insult in there somewhere, but I'll take it!) while A's just didn't respond. Later that night, he called them, and they berated him for sharing them, since it could be bad luck. I'd had a busy evening catching up on work, but since they brought it up, I messaged my parents and announced my intention to send it to close relatives - and they emphatically vetoed the idea too.

How is this their reaction to seeing their grandchildren for the first time?? Indian superstitions are all well and good, but they inject an unnecessary amount of fear and just suck the joy out of everything. Neither of us takes our parents' reactions personally when it comes to this stuff, but man, you'd think they'd think twice before speaking. We certainly do. We tiptoe around their belief systems all the time, worried about offending them. It's a damn shame that no Indian parent returns the courtesy, or even considers doing so. 

The weird thing is they ignore the fears they SHOULD have. Such as the fact that eating 'for two' will result in an unhealthy pregnancy. Or that 'walking slowly' doesn't amount to exercise. While I haven't been eating more than I should be, I've been guilty of not eating my sprouts daily, or replacing my walk-for-exercise with my walk-to-work. So I'm currently freaking out about the blood sugar tests I need to take this week. While baby & I are both well within the accepted weight range, I put on more weight last month than I typically do - and the weight seems to have stayed on me, rather than making the baby fatter. So I need to take a LOT more protein to try to bulk it up, rather than myself. And meanwhile, there are the dreaded tests. Fingers crossed.

Weeks 26 & 27: FINALLY saying goodbye to the second trimester!

You know when you get married, or rather, right before you get married, everyone tells you the first year will be the hardest? Similarly with the first trimester. Everyone's chock-full of horror stories about the nausea and the exhaustion and the hormones and... 

I'm going to be the voice for the exceptions, and tell you that in my case, the first year of marriage was an absolute honeymoon-period-daze of awesomeness. The second year, that's when the gloves came off. Similarly, my first trimester was fiiiine. Which made the second trimester all the more surprising. Everyone assured me it would be all energy bursts and unicorn kisses. Yeah, right.

In the first half of this trimester, there was a doomsday-ish fear. In the first trimester, as long as I was still falling asleep by 9pm, I knew something else probably controlled my body. In the second, I was back to my usual self, my stomach was flat (well, flattish, let's be honest), and there was no sign of life from within. How do you know there's still a baby in there?? Answer: you don't, until the nerve wracking 20-week TIFFA scan when each of the baby's organs are measured for any problems. Longest 6 weeks of my life, especially as we'd just started telling people about the baby, and I kept worrying we'd jinx it.

I divide the second trimester into BT & AT - Before TIFFA & After TIFFA. The former period was Dazed Denial. The latter was Crazy Town. I recently found myself Googling 'divorces in the second trimester,' amongst other things. Not because I wanted one, but because I was convinced my husband would. I tear up even more than usual. And eeeeverything's grounds for a fight! Nor is it only me that's emotional. A's equally stressed about the baby, especially since he can't feel it kicking away. So he's just as quick to snap. And have I mentioned that we shifted countries and changed careers and are still setting up a new home? Both of us are in the right, and in the wrong, with pretty much anything we're ranting about. The whole Oprah act of dissecting the argument empathetically so we can forgive each other gets super emotionally draining super fast. And frankly, we just don't have the time for it. So it's a good thing we're chilled out people who like each other very much.

I can't begin to imagine the pressure on a relationship that hasn't had the time to form solid roots. Not to mention a relationship with other people thrown in, like in-laws, or other relatives. I've been watching my pregnancy forums & boards, and I've noticed more break-up stories, complaints, and hormonal attacks than ever before. So yes, the second trimester may not have you physically puking, but emotionally, it's a whole other story, at least for a couple of weeks. Which isn't to say that it doesn't have its moments. The baby kicking is all kinds of awesome. And if you experienced nausea etc in the first trimester, I'm told it finally lets up now, much to everyone's joy. But for me, following on the heels of an uneventful first trimester, the second one was a slap that proved I wasn't completely immune to hormonal changes.

The good news is that it ends. Moving into our third trimester, we're starting to invest our energy in the practical stuff. Over the last two weeks, A & I took four prenatal classes together. We find the same things helpful and outrageous (one doctor actually said, "They deliver breech babies naturally in the West because they don't care if the baby dies there. You couldn't pay me to deliver my baby in the US!"). We both acknowledge that despite this baby being very much planned and even more wanted, we'd really like some more time together, just the two of us. But we also know that that's what we'll always want. We're talking to each other, and, more importantly, listening to each other again. I think it's safe to say the second trimester suckiness has passed. I'm excited to see what the third brings!

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.

Week 21: Growing An Indian Baby

It's festival time in India! Though we're not celebrating this year as A's grandmother passed away recently, it still means holidays from work, and time to visit with the (extended) family. It's a sad time to have to watch my sugar intake, there are so many delicious sweets and fried things on offer. And... sigh, the festival of lights is coming up, not to mention my birthday. A birthday without cake? I suppose I'll just have to console myself with a slice of cheese. It's a good thing I'm easily pleased.

It's been a rollercoaster week, with the Hyderabad vs. Bangalore debate rearing its head again (it takes a lot of zen-like calmness to start up a company - or to be married to someone who is!). We had the debate, resolved it after much talk, went house hunting, found one, and even signed the lease. In. A. Week. The nice thing is, in between all this uncertainty, that we went right back to the lane where we used to live three years ago... and while there were no empty houses in our old building, there was a beautiful 1,650sft 3-bedroom apartment in the flat right next to it. Our old maid offered to come around, our old neighbours are still exactly where they were before, even the auto drivers on the street recognize us! (As I was telling A, this is quite an achievement given he was meant to be using corporate transport, rather than autos).

We had a very happy run on that road, even though we only lived there for a year, right after we were married. So I'm looking forward to some sort of stability as we move back there over the next couple of weeks. It doesn't look like we'll be there any sooner, because our parents need to pick a 'good date to move in', by which time the house needs to have a stove so I can boil some milk first thing, again, for good luck.

Quite honestly, I find all the start-up and pregnancy related changes come more naturally than the changes involved with being back in India. We've gotten used to being an individual unit, unbound by traditions, and familiarity with a ritual is a different ball game from actually following it, with an audience of our families.

For instance, there was a lunar eclipse on the last day of my 21st week. This brought on superstitions galore. From 2:30 till 8pm, I was to stay at home, and, preferably, lie still, as looking at the eclipse (not that that's even humanly possible with the naked eye) could result in a baby with a deformity. I was also not to touch my face, belly etc, since this could result in birthmarks, cleft lips, and the like. At 7:30pm, I was to have a bath before eating/drinking anything.

For those who aren't familiar with Indian mythology - all these precautions are in place because eclipses are believed to be caused by the evil influence of Rahu-Ketu. Rahu was a demon who stole the nectar of immortality from the Gods. However, as he started drinking it, Surya & Chandra (the sun and the moon) noticed him, and informed one of the super-Gods, Vishnu, who quickly flung a weapon at Rahu, severing his head from his body before the nectar could go past his throat. The severed head, now immortal, angrily swallowed the sun. The decapitated body, called Ketu, swallowed the moon. They continue to do so at regular intervals, causing eclipses. The sun & moon always manage to escape through the holes in Rahu's head & Ketu's body, but in the brief intervals of darkness, Rahu & Ketu's inauspicious forces are at large. Cue ominous music.

There's more to the story, and it's all fascinating, but, more importantly, how do I feel about all this? It's complicated. On the one hand, it's easy for me to indulge people who believe this stuff on one afternoon. On the other hand, I can't help thinking how insensitive beliefs like these are. An eclipse is in no way responsible for forming your baby, and to suggest that a woman born with a so-called less than perfect infant could have taken precautions to avoid 'defects' is ridiculously rude, apart from being credulous. 

Not drinking or eating for 5 hours, on the other hand, could very well lead to dizziness, at the very least. That is how lunar eclipses can harm pregnant women in India. And Rahu & Ketu aren't the ones responsible, either.

...But I'm a chicken, and I stayed in, although I used the time to write, rather than sleep. However, this was just another reminder that I need to figure out boundaries before our baby's born. It's all very well giving in myself when I don't have to be anyone's role model, but I don't want to raise another generation that pleases everyone else just because it's easier to do so.

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 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 :)

Buckle Up

R,

I've to give our parents/families/friends some serious props. In the last year or so, whenever we've said, "We've some news!" they've been expecting to hear what an average married couple may consider news. And instead, we've told them that.... I've quit my job.  I'm going to try writing a book. We've announced that I'm travelling for two months... solo.

And as of last week, we told them that we're moving back to India; that you're quitting your cushy day job (that makes two of us now!) to start your own business. You could audibly hear the sputters, and I understand why people may be confused, but I believe, from the bottom of my heart, that this is the best thing for you.

I've told you this before, but I'll say it again. You believe in me to the extent where I've no choice but to believe in myself. I hope you realize I'm similarly confident about your abilities. I'm excited to watch this leg play out. It's going to be a fun ride!

And in a couple of months, after we've finished travelling around Canada (because we can't just start a new job without a vacation!), we'll call them, and say, again, "We've some news."

They'll probably think we've decided to move to Nepal or something, at the rate at which we've been going. Little do they know... being predictable is the new being unpredictable :)

- A.

Angrez chale gaye...

R,

Pro travel tip - fly on a Tuesday night and you'll have a near-empty flight. I'd three free seats to my right (with an aisle), and one free to my left. Oho. So great. I sat down comfortably and watched ten movies back to back, only occasionally interrupted by a screaming baby. Every flight has at least one, even the ones that leave on a Tuesday night.

Here's the weird thing - I didn't hear a single Indian parent on the flight talk to their kid in any language other than English. How did that happen? I get that the kid lives in Canada/Britain since it was a Toronto-London flight, but can English really be the language you talk to them and your spouse in ALL the time? It's kind of depressing, and all kinds of limiting. English doesn't have plum descriptions like 'tu baingain hai ki anda hai re' or 'podaaaanga' or 'plum,' for that matter. How can you ever fully express yourself?

It just feels like you'd instinctively respond in your mother tongue when surprised/angry... like in that Birbal story where the priest who speaks 14 languages with the fluency of a native screams out in Telugu when woken suddenly in the night with thorns (it may have been a Tenali Raman story, and it may have been some other language, but the point's the same)... but nope, even when a kid threw his spoon of food at his mum, she just said, "We don't do that, sweetie." 

!!!

Whaaaaat?

She didn't say it with the distinctive twang of someone who'd grown up abroad either. Is it just more socially acceptable to talk English in public, especially when you're outside India? Should that even matter one way or the other? 

I worry that could be us - not because we don't speak our mother tongues without caring who's listening, but because we have different native languages. Maybe I'll talk to our kid in Tamil, and you can talk to him in Kannada, and we'll both toss in some Hindi and some Telugu and a bucketload of English. It may confuse the poor thing (especially given my Telugu sucks), but I think it'd be preferable to only speaking English.

A.

Parents Know Best?

R,

P posted pictures of her baby girl on our family’s mailing list, she’s so cute!  She looks just like P, except for her eyes, which are her father’s. P’s parents will probably remember the fit they threw about the marriage every time they look into those baby blues. I wonder if it would have been easier for them to accept it if she’d married an Indian. Somehow, I doubt it. He’d have had to be a Brahmin too. A Tamil Brahmin at that. With the right gothram. Further…

Sometimes, parents want to control everything. I understand that it comes from the best possible place – they want to do everything in their power to give you what they consider the best possible chance of happiness. No option is comparable to the one they envisioned. It’s no different from their wanting a certain career for you, which they think will ensure a steady, good life. It has to be confusing for our parents, who find themselves in times that are very different from the ones they grew up in.

I’m not saying I’d be this mature and understanding if I actually had to argue with them. Luckily, both our parents are usually open to discussion, and willing to laugh at themselves – I can only hope that flexibility and patience is something they've passed on to us. It makes it very easy to respect them and give them a fair hearing in return.

I've noticed that Indian parents in India are usually more adaptable than those living abroad. The latter seem to feel the responsibility for Indian civilization as a whole lies on their shoulders. Maybe they think they’ll be judged more harshly because they’re no longer Indian residents. 

Look at L - Indian society meetings every weekend, strict curfews, tight restriction of pocket money, she’s never lived away from home. In spite of this (because of it?) she managed to sneak out, experiment, and have at least four serious boyfriends, any of whom would have horrified her parents. I don’t think they will ever hear about these boys, she’d be too terrified to bring it up, even if one were Tam Brahm and she wanted to marry him. 

When push comes to shove, I wonder if she’ll marry whoever they tell her to? Time will tell.

-A.

Oh, Baby.

R,

Indian society is most amusing. As you know, we frown down on people interacting with strangers of the opposite sex before marriage - all that only happens in movies! However, we've no qualms demanding babies from virtual strangers the day after their wedding, and every day thereafter, till they've coughed up the requisite dual offspring. At this point, we start asking when they’re marrying their children off.

What perverse kicks do sundry neighbors get at being able to convey the news, “They’re trying!”? I suspect they feel it’s their dharmic duty to be able to advise the young couple misguided enough to admit, “Well, we can’t really afford kids right now,” or “We’re focusing on our careers.” It goes without saying that no Indian couple has ever dared to even dream the words, “We just don’t want kids.”

I seem to recall one of my relatives telling me the Gita or one of those other holy grails states you can only be reborn if you choose your offspring’s spouse, and expand the race caste-appropriately. And people wonder why India’s over populated.

I understand there’s probably comfort in predictability. When couples don’t produce said children magically, three, four, even five years into a marriage, random shopkeepers start to take note and enquire. I’m equally curious – haven’t these ‘helpful’ people ever come across the all too common reasons couples sometimes haven’t had kids, even (gasp) five long years into their marriage?

“I've had miscarriages.” “I’m infertile.” “He’s impotent.”How do they plan to help then?

As evidenced by our social media feeds (thanks a lot, Zuckerberg), our friends are having babies, and I’m thrilled for them. The downside is that other friends are trying to have babies, and that doesn't always make for happy conversations. I've heard heartbreaking stories (without asking!), and I can’t imagine the salt-in-the-wound it must be when they’re asked why they haven’t produced a baby yet. It makes me want to punch sensitivity into some people.

Remember when heartbreak used to be your favorite boy band breaking up? Life was so simple before babies – and our babies haven’t even been conceived yet.

=A.

The Descendants

R,

Saying we’re married feels very grown up, but the reality is, we lie in bed till 10am on weekends, eat lazily, bathe when we want, and act more like convivial  roommates than responsible adults. There are days when I feel like a student; but if your dad’s retiring, then that makes us pretty old ourselves.

It’s very easy to be in love when it’s just the two of us, and we’re fairly low-maintenance people to begin with. Add elements like a child and parents who need our support, and it all becomes very complicated very fast. I’m jumping ten steps ahead of myself over here, given that we’re not expecting a baby; two out of four parents are working; and all four are in good health with a reasonable amount of savings, touch wood.

Just because they don’t need us right now doesn't mean they never will. Even if they never need us, we may want to be closer just so they can watch their grandkids grow up. It’s a Hallmark-y idea, I love the idea of three generations getting to know each other. I enjoyed living with my dad’s father, and spending summers with my mum’s parents. It definitely made me a different person than I would have been with a nuclear family. It seems unfair to deny our parents & kids a similar experience just because it’s not required of us.

Two adjoining houses, or one big one? Which city will be have to live in for both sets of parents to be comfortable, and for us to have decent job prospects/local schools? Those are just the big questions. Much as we like each other’s families, it will be a radical change in our lifestyle. I think we may have to do some actual growing up at some point in the next three to five years.

-A.