Zombie Yoga

***

GBM finished two weeks of life on this planet yesterday. Thanks to her, I've managed to shed all my pregnancy weight gain plus some more. I'm considering launching an exercise video series Shilpa Shetty style pretty soon. The video will be called Zombie Yoga.

After a week of GBM's arrival, M declared that people who have two kids are either psycho or have extremely poor memory. Oh don't get us wrong, we're both amply proud of GBM's many milestones (including the 'mango-yellow' poop she produces without fail after every feed much to the delight of the pediatrician), but really...how did people ever manage to have a dozen kids and all back then? Did they stay awake for 12 years?

To be fair to GBM, she's actually quite a reasonable baby. She doesn't mind lying in the crib by herself in rapt contemplation of the ceiling and surrounding walls. She doesn't care if all of us leave the room and she's left alone. She also seems to remember all the songs I used to sing to her when she was inside me. My mum puts her to sleep now by crooning 'Found a Peanut'. We used to play the 'Senorita' song from Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara and Gita Govindam by MS Subbulakshmi to her earlier and she gets this hilarious recognition in her eyes when these two songs are played now. Yeah, yeah, we're now annoyingly gushy parents who think she's a reincarnation of Mozart.

Her other achievement that I'm glowy about is the variety of faces she makes. After she has fed enough, she pulls this face that looks like a drunk rowdy who has downed a huge amount of biryani and is now going to sleep. If I try to feed her more, she gets an expression of absolute disgust. Sometimes, she falls asleep while feeding and then wakes up in a terrific frenzy to make up for lost time. In these instances, she shakes her head vigorously and acts like she's some mental boxer in a do-or-die round. She also smiles a lot...which I'm grateful for.

As long as GBM is fed (and she sometimes feeds for 1.5 hours straight making me feel like Putana) and changed on demand, she doesn't throw a fuss. The only problem is that she is a night owl and chooses to make her demands only when I'm beginning to feel like a run-over mangy cat. Surprisingly, despite the loss of sleep, I haven't had any headaches...in the pre-baby years, even a loud noise that disturbed my 8-hour beauty sleep would give me a raging headache the next day. I suspect I've become a mother.

M was saying that 17 years from now, the two of us would go on a road trip to celebrate the fact that we were done being parents and GBM was off to University. I was beginning to enjoy the fantasy when I realized that I'm now nearly 26 and my mum is still losing her sleep over me by trying to put GBM to sleep. Jeez.

The Birth Story

***

I thought I should put this down before I forget it...which seems incredible, considering the intensity of the entire experience.

On the 13th of November, M and I were on an evening walk. I suddenly felt a pulling pain on my abdomen and wondered if I was finally beginning to have a real contraction. So far, I'd felt my uterus tighten off and on, but I'd never really experienced any kind of pain. I told M and we decided to wait for a couple more hours before setting things into motion.

Once I got back home, the pain sort of subsided and I was back to just feeling my uterus tighten off and on. I thought it was probably just Braxton Hicks but we decided to check with my gynec anyway. Dr RG barely listened to my description over phone- she simply asked me to go to the hospital and check it out instead of debating on whether or not I was in true labour. This was a relief because I was wondering if it was all happening in my imagination and I didn't want to spend the night second guessing.

Once we reached the hospital, I was attached to a non-stress machine (which measures the strength of your contractions and the baby's heartbeat) to find out if I was indeed in labour. And it turned out that I was in the pre-labour stage! My contractions were small but happening in regular intervals. My cervix had dilated by 1 cm. Dr RG decided not to send me home. Funnily, I wasn't feeling any pain at all and I was telling M that this was a false alarm and I'd probably be discharged the next day. Through the night, I had more non-stress tests. Apparently, my gynec had suspected that the umbilical cord could be around the baby's neck and she wanted to ensure that the fetus was doing fine inside. I had no idea about this and was bugged that I'd to be woken up frequently and attached to the damned machine. I had to lie on my back during these sessions and this was very painful. I assumed that the back pain was because of the weight of the uterus pressing against my spine. I didn't realize that it was because I was in labour!

In the morning, Dr RG examined me again (and let me tell you, these internal examinations are not joy rides) and announced that I'd dilated to 2.5 cms and that the baby had descended further! I was quite happy that I'd made it to 2.5 cms without too much pain...maybe I'd make it to 10 cms and not even realize it, haaannnnn? Dr RG asked me to take a bath and get ready for a long day. I took a nice, hot shower and wore kajal and everything so I could look pretty for the baby. The hospital procedures were started. I was shaved (yeah...and I don't mean my head), given an enema (what fun) and an IV access line was fixed on my left hand. It still hadn't sunk in that I was going to have the baby and I was giggling with M and making enema-related jokes.

Through the day, I had more non-stress tests and my back was really killing me. The contractions were apparently getting stronger but I couldn't feel them at all if I was sitting up or walking around. By afternoon, I'd dilated to 3.5 cms. Whoa. What a nice, cooperative baby.

And then, I got my first taste of parenthood. The baby decided it didn't want to play ball any more. My cervix stopped dilating and I was stuck in 3.5 cms till evening. But my pains started increasing. And dear god, how do I begin to describe it? It felt like a woefully overweight elephant was trampling on my spine with determination. I kept having more and more non-stress tests and the nurses insisted that I lie on my back (later I found out that the top of the bed could have been raised to give me a sitting position- this would have spared me a world of pain.) The Lamaze breathing techniques which I'd learned during my prenatal classes really came to my rescue here. The patterned breathing gave me something to focus on and I managed to synchronize it with the intensity of my pains. M was watching the intensity of the contractions on the NST machine and trying hard not to cry. We were in a semi-private room because the private ones were not available and across the curtain, there was a woman with a preemie baby. The previous night, I'd thought the baby's wails were cute. But when it started howling during my contractions, I remember telling M that I wanted to bash that baby up. We even managed to giggle. So much for my maternal instincts.

Dr RG decided that since labour was not progressing, I should be induced. Now my contractions were already very strong and this was a long shot. I'd been in labour for over 15 hours and this was my last hope of having a normal delivery. Labour was induced and the lone trampling elephant grew into a hundred. I really did think I was going to die of the pain. The contractions were so powerful that they went over the highest bar in the NST several times. My face had apparently flushed so much that I looked black! By now, I realized that I was going to have a C-section and I was mighty pissed that I was going through all this pain with no baby in sight. I was determined not to cry because that would just lead to a breakdown. So I steeled myself and did my breathing along with the NST machine, trying not to look at M's face.

Finally, the doctor gave up. I'd been in labour for 26 hours and I wasn't progressing. She ruptured my waterbag as a final try but that didn't help either. The baby was too big to get out of me. Once she decided on a C-section, things began to move quickly. A catheter was attached to my urethra, a few busybody nurses came out of nowhere, ripped my clothes off me and put me in a hospital suit that was ten times my size and shifted me to a stretcher. By now, I was past caring what I looked like and I had no sense of embarrassment at what was happening. I just wanted the baby OUT! I remember removing my earrings and yanking out my nose-ring in the middle of a contraction- it's a wonder I didn't end up tearing my nostril!

As I was being carried to the operation theatre, I'd to sign a consent form for the spinal anesthesia and M kept telling me to be brave. I was wondering why he was saying that because I was finally relieved I was going to get an anesthesia to end this godawful pain. I couldn't talk though because I was having contractions on the stretcher and didn't want to fall off it!

At the OT, there was a team of masked doctors and I couldn't really make out their faces much. I wasn't wearing my contact lenses or glasses and in any case, I was simply too exhausted to notice. I was sitting near naked in a room full of strangers and I didn't give a damn. I don't think I'll ever feel a pint of shame in my life after this! I was still leaking amniotic fluid from the waterbag burst and I'd to sit with my back bent while a spinal was administered. The anesthetist was a senior doctor whose face I didn't see but whose voice I will never forget. He was extremely calm and told me exactly what would happen as he was giving me the spinal injections. Finally, finally....the pain stopped. I felt my body go numb and the doctors shifted me to the operating table. An oxygen mask was fixed on my head and Dr RG asked me to close my eyes. The anesthetist simply said, "Breathe for your baby!" and this stuck in my head powerfully. I focused on taking long, deep breaths, imagining the baby who was soon going to come. The pain was gone. I was all right. It was all going to end soon.

After about half an hour or so, I felt something slide out of me. And the entire OT was filled with the first cry of my child. It was wild, lusty, and so powerful, I began laughing inside my oxygen mask. They brought her to me, a certified, healthy baby. A girl. With my face and my husband's long proportions. I couldn't hold her right then because I was still on the operation table. She was taken to be shown to the rest of the family. And I lay there, stitched up and fatigued beyond words. But knowing that the this was the beginning of the rest of my life.

It wasn't an easy delivery. But I'm glad I lived through it. Now I know what I can endure. I know my own strength. Thanks to my daughter.

The daughter is here...

***

Born on November 14th at 11.15 PM.

*Wide grin*

Taking Stock

***

Despite my whining, this year has been pretty great, actually. M and I went to Goa in January and had a super time. It was the kind of holiday that's impossible to imagine with my parents (bless them). My parents have this great fear that whichever hotel we stay in will run out of water. So they usually wake up at some ungodly hour and start filling all the buckets in the bathroom while trying to hold a conversation above the din.

I'd wake up and find two beings wearing monkey caps performing this bucket-filling activity with supreme efficiency. My protests that I wanted to sleep for longer would be met with an instruction to get ready and walk in the mist. During this mist-walk, it was mandatory to deep breathe and observe flowers, according to my mother. My father's only focus would be on how far ahead I'm walking because you never know when kidnappers would be in a mood to kidnap.

After this walk, my father, who has always been a Man with a Plan, would have booked a bus or boat or bullock cart at 6 AM or thereabouts to take us to all the destinations that are on the tourist map a few centuries earlier. So we'd wake up the poor room service boys, goad them into giving us breakfast, and then rush towards the mode of transport, always with an aim to be the first ones to have reached the spot. We'd then wait impatiently as the rest of the lazybones tourists arrived, commenting on People's Inefficiency, Lack of Punctuality, and Inability to Plan. After seeing everything that's there to be seen and clicking a few million pictures (for all of which my father would have given instructions on how to hold the camera), we'd have an early dinner and go to bed. Because the next day, we'd have to get up early and fill buckets.

I've had several holidays of this kind and it even inspired an Interval episode in CM. Here's the first page of it:

Since both M and I have similar ideas on vacation, we were content to lie on the beach and do absolutely nothing for most part of the holiday. It was certainly a waste of time and we didn't see everything that was there to be seen in Goa, happily. (There's no escaping DNA, though. I almost popped a vein when the cab meant to take us to the railway station was ten minutes late. M was amused by just how red my face could turn.)

In March, I went down to Chennai for the launch of Mayil Will Not Be Quiet. I had a vague suspicion that I was pregnant, but didn't bother checking because I had too much to think about already. This was my first proper book launch and I was a bundle of nerves. Thankfully, N and I didn't goof up and we did a decent job of it. N, A, and I met up for lunch and N was saying we should do a trip sometime in May. I remember saying haha-I-could-be-pregnant-but. 'A' kindly said I didn't have any pregnant glow and to shut up. But ah well, it turned out that I was right.

After that, most of the year has been about doctor visits, advice from all quarters, parents and in-laws flying in and out, and M and I coming to terms with the fact that we were now firmly and irrevocably lodged in Uncle-Aunty category. As a married couple, we've also worked much better together this year and learned to laugh more and get pissed less.

Career-wise, I managed to expand my freelance network a bit. I have no illusions of being a Super-Mom and I'm happy to take things easy and work within my own comfort zone. Thankfully, the people I work with are cooperative, so I've had no trouble finding well-paying, regular assignments. I've also been writing a column on Creative Thinking in IE. Nothing earth-shattering, but well, it's a good addition to that 'My Pregnant Year' CV!

As far as publishing goes, I've two more picture books with Tulika coming up. A short story of mine has been accepted by Puffin for their upcoming anthology of magic stories. Aana and Chena has gone into reprint. Mayil continues to receive good press coverage. In all, I'm pleased with my writing work this year.

What else? There's a baby coming soon. And then there's the next year to think about.

Not too shabby for GB, what?

What the Baby Did

***

And no, the baby isn't here yet. My due date is November 19 though I'm full-term and everything and the baby can come any minute blah blah.

I've been neglecting this blog for a while. Every time I think I should write something or even reply to the comments that people have taken the effort to leave here, I feel like a particularly dopey tortoise. I really, simply, just want the baby OUT. Gahh. I want to eat a nice, unhealthy, bacteria-filled roadside shawarma without a care in the world. I want to sleep on my stomach. I want to watch violent TV. I want to...you know...BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH.

Okay, I'm not suffering from some depression or something. I'm actually remarkably cheery these days. I've manically cleaned up my cupboard to accommodate the baby stuff. I've caught up with my reading. I even went and watched 7aam Arrivu in a faraway theatre with my medical files (you know, in case my water broke and we had to rush to the hospital or something....I'm filmy like that). The movie was terrible but I had a great time. I was the only buffoon laughing throughout the film in the entire theatre.

Enough about me. Here's something about the baby!

What the baby likes me to eat:

1. Guava
2. Yogurt
3. Fish (okay, that's just me...but never mind)

The baby gets mad if I don't eat lunch by 1 pm. It starts off by wiggling and then stubbornly kicking me till I put something into my mouth. After that, the baby gives a few happy kicks and falls asleep. I'm supposed to eat dinner by 8 pm too. Breakfast- not later than 9 am. The baby thinks it's my mother.

The baby falls asleep if I sing 'Found a Peanut' (my favourite nursery rhyme when I was a kid) and rub my stomach.

The baby stays quiet if M places his hand on my stomach. But kicks if he places his head on it. It thinks my mother's hand and mine are the same.

The baby likes the Senorita song from Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara.

The baby likes to kick as I keep count when I'm doing my prenatal exercises.

The baby gets excited by its own heartbeat. Every time the doctor brings the doppler near me, the baby jumps around.

I think these are accomplishments enough for so small a being. That's all for now. Hopefully, by the time I post next, the baby will be out and kicking me in person.