I’m adding this blog post to my blog because I am so astounded by this amazing lady who has a baby and yet does all this great stuff while I’m just moaning about my life!! Hats off to you, you just inspired me to get a life ….
March 1, 2012
I’m taking a walk outside my house. (Thank goodness I can finally find the strength to go take a walk) It’s spring and there’s a lovely warmth in the air, the sun doesn’t sting yet and there are flowers blooming all around my society. I’ve just finished the light exercises advised by my doctor and I sit there on a raised part of the ground, watching the squirrels scamper on the buildings…. I remember my sister’s amazement at squirrels climbing cement walls… I guess that’s adaptation for you.
Nature makes me happy. Hope my little one turns out to be a nature lover. She probably will, because her father’s a nature-guy, too. I place a hand on my belly, “See that little furry thing scampering about with its tail in the air? That’s a squirrel. Oh, and this is a tree… And see those pink things growing there? Those are flowers…aren’t they pretty? Oh, darling you’re gonna love it here…”
March 5, 2012
I miss my office. I miss going to work everyday. I hate having to sit at home with nothing to do….Don’t wanna watch movies… don’t wanna read books… miss my office friends, miss our conversations…. Hate having to be like a housewife…. The worst part about being a housewife is that if you want a conversation, the only people available around you are those who will just talk about how irregular the maid is or what’s going on in tulsi/parvati/ichcha/tapasya’s disgusting fictional lives, how clean their cupboards are or how much zeera, adrak and lehsun to put in a particular dish………..aaaaaaahhhhh………..!!!! Give me a break!!!
Ladies, I know it’s wonderful to keep cleaning your cupboards every minute and cook the tastiest dish in town but really, do you ever come across a name in history or general knowledge that says “This person had the cleanest house” or “this person cooked the best food”???? No? I thought so.
(No offense to housewives. I’m one myself, now. The above rant is just a presentation of my thoughts at that point of time.)
March 10, 2012
This isn’t going to be so bad…. Children are nice….mine won’t be like that bawling kid across the block… my neighbour’s anniversary celebration was ruined by her tantrum-throwing kid…nope, mine won’t be that way…. My husband’s cousin says the first 2 years are terrible…nope, mine will be an angel….
Kids are nice, kids are nice, kids are nice……………… They are nice, right? Right????? Anybody there????
March 12, 2012
I’m watching a movie called Waitress. I can so empathise with this woman, the heroine. She has an unplanned baby. Of course, the reason she doesn’t want it is that she hates her husband and wants to run away from him…quite the opposite in my case, huh?
“Not everyone wants to be a mother, Dawn,” Jenna tells her friend, “That don’t make you a bad person.”
“I respect this baby’s right to thrive…I do not do anything to put it in danger…” BUT. She doesn’t love her child. She doesn’t want it. “Dear damn baby.” That’s how she addresses it when her husband finds her hidden running away money.
Dear damn baby. That’s quite a phrase, isn’t it? Damn baby.
What the hell’s wrong with me??? Why can’t I love my baby? It’s been months! Get over it already, girl!
Jenna gives birth to a baby girl whom she falls in love with the moment she holds her in her arms…the baby gives her courage to set her life right and mum-and-kid live happily ever after.
Will I fall in love with my baby when I hold her/him? Will I? Will I………. ?
March 15, 2012
Sonia Naik is the best gynaecologist I’ve ever met. She’s my savior.
“I’m not able to eat anything, you know,” I complain to her as she carries out her routine checks. “Just tomato soup the whole time, sometimes bread and butter… I haven’t had a single roti in 5 days. Nor rice. No vegetables. Or dal. Maybe a little home-cooked aloo ki tikki sometimes.”
“That’s fine. You’re getting enough nutrition. Don’t have to worry.”
That’s not really what I wanna tell her. I’m on the verge of tears, actually.
“You know all this stuff about great glorified motherhood? I think it’s crap.”
I have her attention now.
“I don’t know…I don’t feel anything for my baby. I just feel angry all the time. You know, like I wanna get a punching bag and keep at it the whole day. I don’t feel happy about anything. WHY WHY WHY don’t I love my baby? What’s wrong with me… I feel like crying all the time…”
“That’s just because you’re not well,” she says gently. You’re having nausea, fatigue and all these problems, they’re making you weak and irritable. Once this passes, you’ll be fine and you’ll love your baby.” She smiles.
“I hope so,” I sigh.
“In the meantime, you can just fight with your husband and make him your punching bag!” she suggests with a twinkle.
I grin. Poor Sajjad!
MORAL OF THE POST: You see these pendulum swings? From showing squirrels to my baby to wanting a punching bag? They’re called hormones. That’s what makes us women change from green to red in the twinkling of an eye. If there’s any man reading this, hope you were paying attention.
(All rights belong to the nursery rhyme creator; my twisting of the second line is in no way intended to be a violation)
All my blogger friends, most of them pregnant women from other countries sharing their experiences, either know the sex of their unborn child, or are excited because they will get to know soon. Well, in India, this is banned—sex determination, I mean. Know why? Because the family of the unborn child will most likely want to finish it off in the womb if it’s a female. Welcome to our great land.
Alright, so not everyone is like that. Educated city people will not kill the baby, mostly. But they will heave a sigh of despair and people will give them consoling wishes instead of congratulations on the birth. Even the ones who consider themselves ‘progressive’ will spout stuff like “Oh, these days girls are as good as boys and they are also earning and supporting their parents…etc…etc…” which does not really sound like a congratulatory statement, does it?
All cultures value the love of parents above everything else. It’s supposed to be unconditional. So then why do I meet so many parents who want a son because he’ll provide for them in old age, or he’ll be a source of security and a daughter will be a liability because you have to start stacking up the dowry for their wedding right from the time they’re born? (I could get started on dowry and how hateful it is and why MEN need to stand up and speak against it, but this post would become a research thesis then and you probably won’t take the time to read it.)
So what I’m saying is, if parental love is indeed unconditional, why would you prefer to have a child who brings you more benefits (supposedly)? That sounds a lot like a transaction to me.
Anyway, to come back to the point, even before I became pregnant, I’ve been getting “blessings” from a whole bunch of elders to bear a son. Really, now. What about your own self, madam? Do you feel sad that your parents gave birth to you and not to a boy? I’m sure you spend your days filled with self-loathing, cursing the day you were born. Shame.
Okay, so I’m getting side-tracked. Back to my story: Farhan, my husband’s cousin, is living with us right now, and he’s such a godsend ‘cause I have someone to talk to while Sajjad is at work. So, I have these very strict instructions for Farhan:
“Listen, bro, I’m gonna buy a chart paper and a permanent marker, and if I give birth to a baby girl, this is what I want you to write on it and stick outside my hospital room: IF YOU ARE COMING TO CONSOLE US INSTEAD OF CONGRATULATING, PLEASE TURN BACK RIGHT NOW. WE ARE CELEBRATING.”
I’m a religious person, and though I didn’t wanna bring religion into this blog, I can’t help but mention this: When Moses asked the Lord what he does when he’s happiest, God replied: “I create daughters.” I’m so looking forward to having a daughter. But then again, I’d be equally happy if it’s a son. So long as she/he’s healthy, happy and sweet-tempered.
I’m not going to choose. God will choose for me. Because you cannot—and should not—be picky about gifts. Especially when they’re coming from heaven………