8 years later

Read this blog a few times over the last 8 years.

Wanted to publish a few posts kept in draft when my son was born but lost the password, changed the associated phone number, lost all ways to recover the password as well. Then, somehow found a way! 

Published the drafts, first thing!

And then realised there was no way I could have written this parenthood journey by recalling it. We forget too much. My second one was born two years ago. When I try to remember how my firstborn was at this age, nothing concrete comes up. And I am surprised and amused and thrilled by the photographs I see. Google photos does a god job of it. 

Attempted to restart the logging of my journey as a father. For starters, I am now challenged everyday by my elder one. And loved unconditionally. He reads, bikes and hangs on the monkey ladder. The younger one? Well, he is a real piece of work too! A real protestor :-)

Let us see how the journaling goes :-)

Backbone arrived

 

Baby arrived 3 weeks before the due date.

Grandparents arrived 2 weeks before the due date.

=  1 week on our own = cry 

... but now her parents have arrived. They arrived and SFO airport's computer system failed = they waited inside and I waited outside the airport for 4 hours. 

Grandma comes. Sees the baby. Jet lag goes away. Massage starts with the traditional Dabur Lal Tel. 

We GO TO BLOODY SLEEPPP ... ZZZZZZZ! 

Age 1 day to Age 4 days

Feeding takes 3
source: wikimedia commons

He aged 400% in 4 days :-) 

How we feeling? Honestly? Screwed! Really really screwed.

Mainly Because:

• Babies need to feed every 2 hours 
• Our baby hasn't taken the breast. So we run a 24X 7 dairy farm at home.
• 20 minutes to pump 20 ml
• 45 minutes to drink 20 ml
• I, the father, feed him. I have a little bottle that hangs upside down from my shirt. A capillary thin pipe runs from the bottle and ends between my fingertip and my thumb. And the baby sucks on my thumb! For 45 minutes.
• Amidst everything, I will never ever forget how amazing his lips and the light suck feels on my fingers. Angel! Heaven! Innocent! So strong! Trying to live! Aah! 
• 10 minutes to clean
• Back to pumping

On top of that:

• Post-partum depression is a real things, folks! 

On top of that

• We have become really forgetful. Babies' diapers and feeds need to be counted as it gives a picture of its health. We maintain it on a whiteboard and forget to note everything. And irritated with ourselves! 
• A social worker is going to visit us to ensure we are not the kind of people who use drugs or can harm their own child. Good thing. Sane thing. Must check. But somewhere it hurts! 

Stairs and parents of a newborn

Books on Stairs
Source: snappygoat.com

 We drove home. That was the easy part, in hindsight!

The tough part was the staircase. Second Floor. 4 flights of about 8 steps each. 6 inches per step.

She had suffered a few tears and walking was hell. Climbing was unimaginable. Impossible to lift the food 6 inches.

... and then, I remembered I was a student with real thick books - think macroeconomics!

So, I got two of them from our flat. 

She then climbed the books.. then the next step ... then the books.. then the next steps and so on! 

Took us a really really long time to reach upstairs....

.... where a friend waited with a diya (Earthen lamp) to welcome the "3" of us home. 

We entered to a full surprise. Friends had decorated the house in full baby bloom! 

Grateful all is well.

Home Coming

 

Worried Newbie source: freepik

If I had the option, I would have never left the hospital. 

Nervous. How will we manage at all? We cannot feed the baby? We are scared of washing its bum. We are not even sure about how tight the diaper should be. And we are students. We are literally broke. 

Several different people at the hospital did several different things. Paperwork. Removing that papery-plasticy bracelet that identifies us as patients and parents. 

And then, the attendant carries the baby in a carseat we had brought along to the pavement where I was supposed to bring the car - a station wagon Volkswagen Jetta - heated seats. I came to the pavement. Saw the little thing in the car seat .. and the car seat kept on the pavement with her and the attendance standing .. I was so angry... Said something sarcastic ... then, apologised ... the hospital attendant said - been there before. first time dad! 

Then a trip the ISKON temple and home! 

Day 3 @ hospital: 9 months, 8 pounds, 3 ounces, a few tears

Salvador Dalí's Persistence of Memory

It's all hazy!

Comes to me in snippets.

A long very long tormenting period of freight trains rushing through every 4th minute.

Numbers hold me ... they calm me down... I look at the machines ... heartbeat, some other stuff. I look very often.

Memory 1

To say really the least, pushing is the hardest thing I've seen anyone do. And I saw the nurse turn into a coach. The sweet little lady nurse put a sort of a pipe on the bed and looped a bedsheet on it, gave an end to her and said - pull the bedsheet and Push. And in about five minutes, the nurse turned into a very strict basketball coach who shouted ... top of her lungs ... Push, lady ,push, you don't wanna do this the whole night. Do it. Now. Go for it! ... 

Memory 2

She said - Arrrrghhhhhh! I will never ever speak to you again in my life. You @#$#@$ 

Memory 3

Our doctor arrives sometime early morning. Wife is now losing all the strength. Labour has gone on far too long. Numb! Doctor says - they will try vacuum delivery, and if I am okay. AM I OKAY? Of course, I am going to do anything and everything that you even suggest. So, she sets it up. 

Try 1:... a toilet plunger kinda thing tries to grab the baby's head and pull out.. and a sound PUFF! Fail!

Try 2: ... that stuff again .. and again a PUFF! Fail

Try 3:... doc says if this doesn't work, we will go for surgery. No Puff! I go feet side and see a head full of hair arriving into the world. Lump in throat. Pain in the top of the nose. Tears probably. 

It is 7:32 Pacific time. Indiawise, 8 am something.

Memory 4:

They have stabilised the baby. It is still connected to the mother. Ah.. she is a mother now! And as per our birthing plan, I am the one supposed to hold the baby first, and cut the umbilical cord. I wear gloves. I take surgical scissors. And I cut. I tremble a little. But I cut. No one's crying. Not even the baby! 

Memory 5:

Head looks conical. Weird. Worried a tad but happy everyone's still alive. Ask the nurse. She says something that I cannot hear. Takes the baby to a basin like pot and pats the head a few times. It's back ot normal. A human head! She gives it back to me, saying with her eyes - "God save the world from first time fathers."

Memory 6:

Baby on mom's chest! Everyone's crying. Baby is not. Baby's purring. I want to stay right there. Hold the moment in the time. Just be there! 

Memory 7: 

Warm red glow of the overhead heater on baby's little bed. Breakfast is cold. She asks for something warm. We are moved from the delivery room to post-delivery room. The urgency is gone - in us, in the hospital staff. A new nurse - straight from Woodstock with her tattoos and very cool attitude and age and experience asks us to - "take it easy, darlings!"

Memory 8:

We try to catch some sleep. Baby makes a sound as light as a deep breath and there is havoc in my heart. We check again. Heartbeat okay! Breath? Yes! Finger on the nostril .. yeah working. Why is it not taking the breast? It's been so many hours without any food. "relax! they don't need food immediately. ensure baby takes the breast. life will be a lot easier."

note: our baby never took the breast. we ran a dairy farm for a year and a half. 

Memory 9:

Someone advises - why don't you put the baby in the nursery and get some sleep?

I and She (silently; independently): What if baby gets exchanged? Are we so cruel that we will send our baby to a nursery so we can sleep? Are we already bad parents? 

... but lack of sleep is a powerful thing. Baby to nurser! We to bed! Best sleep ever! Ever! EVER!

Day 3 @ hospital: The 4 minute rhythm

It is 12 a.m. Day 3 at hospital! Tense. Nervous.... and busy!

Contractions - they are beginning to behave like a freight train - that's what the nurse says! Once they start, there is nothing you can about it. Epidural has been administered. Have no fanciful expectations. The pain is reduced but not killed completely. So, I have her screaming in pain. 

There are a lot of machines and a lot of displays. They show real time heart rate of the mom and the baby, a graph track the contractions, and the drips go on like time - orderly, unstoppable.

The universe is dancing to a rhythm that started with a slow base speed but soon gained tempo. It has come to a moderate rhythm - one that is surely going to be sustained for several hours. The hospital room bloats up every 4 minutes as the contractions peak and stays severely stretched for about a minute. There is a moment of calm and then, another peak hits. She has sprained her neck - too many liquids being pushed intravenously probably has something to do with it. So, I have to push her head upwards to help her push with every contraction. Time is passing in units of 4 minutes - cyclical! Like a long hard ritual to please a very moody and angry and dissatisfied God who is not easy to please. We wait for the water to break, literally. 

The nurse looks under the sheets and comes up with a number - 8, 9, 11 and so one. This is called dialation - a woman's body opening up to give birth. It is almost science fiction. The bigger the number, the farther ahead into the journey you are. Not that you could go back, but the farther you are, the lesser you need to cover. This dilation stuff is the talk of the town when pregnant women meet. It is kinda the milestones markers on the road to motherhood.


There is a lot going on. I am phasing in and phasing out. I steal a few moments and pray. Hard.