The First Cry

They say when a woman becomes mother, her womanhood attains completion. Not sure about the correctness of this statement, but the woman in me has sure become a mother and she sure feels more beautiful now.

How unpredictable life is – last year this time, having a baby in near future was nowhere in our plan. But (somehow) the plan soon changed.  After doing a short analysis of our readiness, I and my husband decided to welcome a new family member!

And soon by god’s grace the most precious news arrived us. The new soul had made room in our life already.

We chose a nearby hospital with a good obstetrician, after checking out reviews. A more disciplined lifestyle including balanced diet, proper sleep, distance from stress and so on, followed next. I bought a good book on pregnancy that I referred to right till the end. I tried to refrain from old wives’ tales and to strictly follow my doctor throughout.

I continued going to office till the eighth month, though I had made up my mind well in advance that I may have to discontinue work due to medical non fitness at any stage of pregnancy. But fortunately all went well and I worked till the date I wanted.

Baby was due in August last week. And as July started, so did my anxiety. The date though more than a month far, was approaching at a fast pace. The thought that eight months have passed already gave me jitters. There also was a sense of achievement that I have successfully nurtured a baby in my womb for quite a period!  July passed somehow – it felt like years though. Now the D day could be any day, as I had read that the baby may arrive any day plus or minus few days of the estimated delivery date.

August being the most awaited time of our life, started with high degree of anxiety, impatience and energy. The image of my baby in my mind got firmer each day. The thought that soon I will have my angel in my hands was in itself a divinity.

I unfortunately picked up dengue in the first week of August and it was lowering my platelets count each day. With no other major symptoms showing up yet, the only thing bothering was the rapidly reducing platelets count. This was accompanied by a low fever that still was bearable. A major concern was that the baby shouldn’t catch the infection.

Doctor called me for a couple of blood tests. On analysing the report it was decided not to wait any further (it was my 38th week of pregnancy, already). Yes, that was the day!

The shear news that i would be operated within an hour, gave the unprepared me chills. It was so quick that i and my husband could hardly get time to inform relatives about it. I was quickly shifted to the ward where all the crude things started happening. A set of nurses came and changed my dress to a loose fitting dressing gown. A catheter was inserted as i could not move out for next couple of days. Few more gross things happened that would be inappropriate to be mentioned here.

Within minutes my doctor came to examine me and my baby. Next, a wheelchair was brought and i was transferred to the OT. i was asked to lie down on the operation table. A batch of doctors was already present there. My doctor was explaining them my and baby’s current status. The anesthesiologist asked me to stay calm as he could clearly figure out my nervousness. I was scared like a chicken. All the sweet dreams of holding the baby for the first time had taken a back seat. All i wanted at that time was to survive that surgery. A couple of IVs were pricked, one being platelet transfusion. I was next given anesthesia in my backbone. Seconds later i couldn’t feel my lower body. I was then blindfolded. I could hear everything happening around and could feel some vibrations on the table. I had surrendered myself to the godly doctors present there. My ears were literally dying to hear that ‘first cry’!

I was dizzy and all ears at the same time. Minutes passed like that. Finally after about half an hour i heard a feeble shriek. But it was so low and short that it got me thinking if this was the one i was waiting for. Then there was silence. Doctors were on with their work though. I could feel some activities still on. A nurse in a corner said - ‘2:43:06’. Was that the birth time of my baby?

Finally i bumbled with the blindfold still on - “How is my baby?”. My doc replied - “Your baby is absolutely fine. Nurse is cleaning him”. I felt like crying. Entire nine months of carrying flashed back. All pains gone. My eyes were pining for baby’s sight.

Few minutes later another doc present there brought him near me and my baby was looking at me with his eyes wide open!  I kissed his soft feet and they took him to the NICU for examination. They shifted me to my ward. After a long wait of around eight hours we finally got him back. He was asleep all cozy in hospital muslin.

I felt like jumping and grabbing my baby but the pain of stitch held me back. Still I managed to cuddle him. The feeling can't be expressed what it was !

An eternal connection was made as he latched for feed. That moment and now are not much different. Just that his toes have grown a bit - I handle his poo better for sure  - I sleep a little less now - he loves me a little more!

When Last

When last

You hung on to a singing bird

When last

The smell of rain captured you

 When last

You felt deep the flowing breeze

When last

A rainbow captivated you

When last

You fingered through a touch-me-not

When last

A row of ants distracted you

When last
You sniffed through pages of a book
When last
A child’s innocence brought smile to you

When last

You admired a blooming bud

When last
The dew drops enthralled you

When last

You gazed at a shooting star

When last

The sunset becharmed you

When last

You drew deep the air of dawn

When last

A heartbeat enraptured you

When last

You zoomed out of daily chores

When last

You stopped by nature not far, but around you

402-A

Pretha lived in an apartment 402-A in East Bangalore. She was a housewife with two little kids. Her husband Raj was a serviceman with a very busy schedule at work. He loved them but could hardly buy any time for his family which he was rueful for.

It was a weekend night when she alongwith her kids was waiting for him to come back from his overtime work. She had prepared his favourite dish for dinner. It was quarter past ten as her phone rang. She rushed to get it expecting his call. But the number flashing was an unknown one. When she recieved the call, the voice on the other side said that her husband has met with an accident on the highway and is in a hospital.

Hearing this she went numb for a while. She somehow managed to rush to the hospital counter and asked for his ward number. The receptionist searched through his database and reported that there was no patient with his name. She insisted that the phone call gave her this address only. But the person on the counter refused again.

She quickly visited her phone call history but failed to find the number that had called her. She had probably deleted the number by mistake. Her anxiety augmented. She didn't know what to do or whom to ask for help.

An elderly man observing her restlessness suggested her to try calling her husband’s phone just in case he answers. This was much of a common sense thing but under the haze of worry she had not thought of this option.

She quickly reached out to her phone and dialed his number. The bell rang. But no one answered. Tears mixed with her sweat of worry trickled down her cheek. She only wished in her subconscious mind that it were just a bad dream.

Just when she had almost given up her hope on the situation, her phone rang. No, it was not him. She lost her consciousness and fell there. The old man took the phone and received the call. It was her neighbor Rita who in an anxious voice, without hearing this old man, said, ‘Pretha where are you? Your kids were running out of the apartment and your door was ajar. Why can’t you be careful with your kids and home? Please come back from wherever you are as they are crying and looking out for you.’

This man replied that she has come to the hospital looking for her husband who has met with an accident. She promptly replied, ‘her Husband who died two years back, has met with an accident!!’, and she took a deep breath, having understood what just happened. But the man still seemed perplexed.

Then she explained him the tragedy about Pretha. “True that her husband died in a road accident. But it had happened two years back. And Pretha is since then under a deep trauma, from which she has yet not recovered. She keeps waiting for him everyday and at times when her adrenaline rush is really low, she ends up hallucinating about him in different ways like this one”.

Rita came to the hospital and took her back home. Pretha’s kids came running and jumped into her arms. Pretha realized that what just happened was just another sour outcome of her misery. She loved her husband badly and could still not recover from the pain of his loss.

She used to engage herself with her kids. She was under medication to battle her depression.   But at times when her soul failed to fight strong, the medicines would also fail. Life went on with her relatives and friends visiting her now and then.

One day when her kids came back from school, they saw a herd of people including the relatives standing in their house. In a corner was their mother’s dead body lying. Their granny held them and took to the other room where they learnt that earlier that day their mom had hung herself from the ceiling fan. This was indeed a shock of their life.

They were taken to their grandparents who took their charge and started looking after them from then. The kids by now had learnt that their life was not as gifted as their friends. But they had to learn to live and to fight all odds, to succeed in life.

402-A was gradually declared a haunted house as the people around often complained that they heard human voices coming from the locked house. And that they heard sounds – of Rita singing - her husband laughing – the (already disconnected) landline phone ringing – and so on.