A Mom Story Of Her Pregnancy Journey & What Happened After

“And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.” Wrote Paulo Cohelo. A mom’s story on how things worked out for her!
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The Beginning 

“And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.” Wrote  Paulo Cohelo; and I believe in this a hundred per cent, not only because I wanted you with all my soul. 

On the morning of February 15, when my period was officially 45 days late, I did my second pregnancy test. The first being at day 38 and it was negative. I was hoping and praying that I was pregnant and not suffering from some version of PCOS that would delay my plans of conception. The 2nd test was positive. I was pregnant and so surprised, confused and elated all at the same time because I didn’t expect myself to get pregnant so soon.

With my history of PCOS, the doctor said it could take me a while to conceive and that I should keep my options for IVF open.  Thankfully, none of that happened. But I must give credit where it's due because I believe it’s all the yoga and pranayama that I was practising during my yoga teachers training class, that somehow helped me, have you.

From being a sesame sized seed in my belly to growing to the size of a large pumpkin, my pregnancy has been nothing but a cakewalk. The worst of my troubles while pregnant were the garlic intolerance and acidity– really not a big deal. The doctor was worried a little about my weight gain – a good 18 kilos at full term, despite all the workout I did. But it was all under control otherwise.

Globetrotting since you were in my tummy, we travelled to Dubai, Singapore, London and did a small road trip to Scotland with Papa.

To celebrate your arrival, we had an elaborate baby shower where so many of your friends and family showered you with blessings, love and affection (and hordes of gifts). We had a small incident with the barbeque at the baby shower that led to the fire alarm being activated and literally water flooding our home. But as old school, as it may sound – I believe all the negative energy or nazar was washed away with that sprinkler water.

The Birth

So, funny how you’re expected to know what contractions feel like and at what intensity to rush to the hospital. I for once was clueless, so was your Nani since she didn’t have me or either of your Maasi's via natural birth. I had to rely on the wisdom of your Dadi, who was also mildly panicking when I was in pre-labour.

Well, you can’t blame her since no one could warn me that the contractions can accelerate like at midnight. We all rushed to the hospital to get admitted. It was rather comical, cause I was definitely not in full-blown labour, which my doctor, Dr Nagarwala very graciously pointed out. Her words post a pretty horrific internal exam were “ you're in pre-labour when it’s actual labour you won’t be able to speak, let alone smile” and that wiped the smile right out of my face. 

I was put on labour accelerants and I faintly remember holding your Daddy’s hand and squeezing the life out of the stress ball we had carried. A few minutes later, an army of doctors rushed in – the paediatrician, his assistant, an array of nurses and the hospitals resident doctor. And then the doctor asked me to start pushing with each contraction, which I couldn’t really feel because of the epidural but was visible to the doctors, so they guided me through the process. You were finally crowning.

I had forgotten that your Dad was in the room with me until the moment Dr Nagarwala asked him to come to see your hairy head – of course, he almost fainted. In his defence, he hadn’t eaten since 5 PM and his blood sugar possibly dipped (Haha) 

In the end, we had to opt for a vacuum delivery, because you had pooped and were in distress. You were born my princess, all of  3.3kgs, purple with the cord wrapped around your tiny neck, an ugly cyst on head and a strong pair of lungs. 

The Arrival

The first thing we heard when you were born was ‘what’s that on her head?’ and to that, the good doctor replied “I’ve never seen something like this before”. Clearly something was up. But with the sedative kicking in and the immediate latching post-birth, I was distracted and passing out.

The next morning, our saviour and paediatrician, Dr Balesekar walked in. He gave you your first round of shots and checked on the coin-sized cyst on your head. He asked us to get an ultrasound report and set up a meeting with a pediatric surgeon because malignant or benign it was a growth that wasn’t normal, we had to get it out.

The ultrasound declared it to be an epidermoid cyst/scalp lesion – which the surgeon said was fairly common in young children, but this was a first he’d seen in a newborn, none the less we could operate. And we’d have to operate under general anaesthesia. I felt a fear I hadn’t ever before, it almost felt like God was toying with me. Giving us something so pure and then testing us somehow. (It was only later that we discovered, post-surgery, that the cyst was a rare form of a tumour. The doctors were truly God sent)

For your Daddy and me, it was love at first sight when we saw you, held you, smelt your new baby smell. If perfection had a form, to us it was you, even with that ugly cyst on your head. A blessing and joy like none other. It wasn’t just our hearts you stole but the whole entire family turned into a puddle when they met you. 

If there’s one thing I’ve realised, it is that there are two aspects to motherhood.

The first – You feel this unconditional love, affection, fear for their wellbeing and a strong instinctive protectiveness towards this tiny human you’ve birthed.

The second – no one prepares you for life after childbirth. You’re told that childbirth is the worst of it, but honestly, it isn’t. It is the part you’re unprepared for when you’re back home. It’s the waking up every 3 hours to feed the baby, the pain of the stitches that have yet to heal, the new body that you’re in, how breastfeeding is challenging and how the mother carries the bulk of the parenting responsibility. It’s easy to get overwhelmed, especially with a cocktail of hormones coursing through your body.

At this stage, I was grateful to my family for being there for me, for supporting and just being around as much as everyone could. I was stressed out about your impending surgery and my low milk supply. I somehow reached obsessive levels about breastfeeding you and required a lot of coaxing to give you formula – which you needed. Thank your Pu Ma (Dadi) for that. You’ve had the best nanny too, only because your daddy (or me) wouldn’t settle for any less. 

But all in all, all the surprises and all the pain, is worth it. It’s worth it because it’s what has given me – you. The most precious thing in the whole wide world. You’re the reward for all the good karma I must’ve done. My heart and soul!

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