Your Arrival

It was a sunny day with sun shining at its best. It was hot outside but I was cold wondering if I will be alive tomorrow to witness the heat. I was shivering with fear, yet calm, thinking I had you beside me. It was June 13^th, 2005, 4 p.m. I was walking, in fact crawling as if I was carrying the baggage of the whole earth. I didn’t have anybody to assure me. Just me and myself. We reached the hospital around 6 pm. No, I was completely fine. It was just that I was expecting my first baby. But, I was not excited. I was only afraid, concerned about me, only myself.

I was admitted in the hospital for the first time. I wanted to have my favorite dish for dinner, chola poori; one last time before I go for the test of my life.  I was relaxed now having done with my dinner. People must have retired to bed after a tiring day yet the maternity ward was awake and full of activities. Activities? Ok, whatever. I was sitting there watching the women with wonder as to why they were shouting so much. Obviously, I didn’t experience any pain and was a mere spectator.

I was not allowed to sleep and was visiting the labor ward every hour. It took me a while to understand what was happening around me. I was still normal. No pain. Men were not allowed in; so was talking to him constantly over phone as if we just started dating. The screeches, the pain, the tummies, the babies didn’t affect me at all. I was only curious about what next with me.

June 14^th, 2005, 4 a.m. And doctors and nurses started panicking after my regular check-up. I could see the worry in their faces yet was not informed anything. This time I could not return to my allotted bed and had to stay back in the labor ward. Suddenly I could hear his voice door side and understood something was wrong with me. Time passed. It was 7 a.m. when I was finally allowed to leave the ward and meet him. He seemed worried. When enquired I was informed that I had to go through a surgery as the baby’s heart beat had stopped.

An emergency had cropped up. I was not for it. I wanted to have a normal delivery as I wanted to pursue my career. Somewhere it had settled in me that I may not be able to work should I opt for a C-section. I was least bothered about the baby but was concerned only about my well-being. As a 23 year old I was just being my age without knowing the meaning of being a mother. I refused for the surgery; cried it out to him that I am not ready. He was perplexed to take whose side: me or the doctor, or the baby or me?  The doctor was trying hard to convince me the pros of surgery and the cons of not going for it. I was ready to let go of the child rather than my belief. Perhaps I was being a true Sagittarian there.

By now the whole world around me knew of my confusion. I guess the mobile subscribers had a field day as the next one hour went on calls. Friends and well-wishers tried their best choice of words to bring out the motherly emotions in me. Crying, cajoling, convincing, threatening, and finally scolding did the trick. I had to trust the medical infrastructure and the doctor’s competence to give a go ahead for the Herculean task of operating on me. In half hour (or so, I don’t remember) it was over and ‘the thing’ was out of me. Sigh. Relief, but was it so? No! My next ordeal had just begun.