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.

Day 2 @ Hospital: Won't talk to you ever again!

Scene 1: The Mood


Interior. Hospital labour room. 7 p.m.

Super pregnant Mamasoon is experiencing contractions which come at every 4 minutes. The intensity is strong enough to cause pain but not unmanageable.

A bunch of doctors and nurses are examining the reports. Papasoon is trying to eavesdrop on their conversation.

DOCTOR

Temperature?

NURSE

98 thereabouts.

PAPASOON
(really unsettled)

sorry to interrupt there but I think it is Ninety Eight Point Three.

DOCTOR

Er..yeah! thanks for that!

Everyone in the room gives Papasoon the 'look' but they bear him somehow, probably because of having seen all kinds. 

 

PAPASOON

Yeah! and the contractions are also coming at 4.26 minutes. Look at the graph.

 

By now everyone is kind of sick of Papasoon, and the awkwardness is obvious to everyone except Papasoon.

 

MAMASOON
(with all the strength she could muster)

Papa!  Stop that. Let them work.

PAPASOON
(After a second of silence, shocked and angry)

I am only pointing out what is right. God forbid they decide something without really understanding the data... (he goes on for a while)

MAMASOON
(start sobbing)

I will never talk to you again in life. Ever.

CUT...

Scene 2: The Mood SWING

Interior. Hospital labour room. 1 a.m.

Intense labour is going on. The room is full of screams. Papasoon is helping Mamasoon push. They are in this together. She has neck pain and yet, she has to push. She is trying hard. Papasoon is supporting her neck with every contraction. The contractions are coming like clockwork, ever increasing in intensity.

Mamasoon

(In a moment of silence between two contractions)

Shit! I thought I will never talk to you again! 

---X--- END ---X---

Day 2 @ hospital: The journey uphill

0600 We wake to a fresh morning, with ample of sunlight and positive feel. First thing I see is that she is already awake, fiddling with her phone, probably chatting with folks about to go to sleep in India. I jump up from the couch and take a look at the readings - child's heartbeat, check. Her heartbeat - check. Temperature - check. Everything is normal. Now, I can go freshen up.  Everything looks just as it was yesterday. No elements of Bollywood/ Hollywood labour rooms yet showing! Our breakfast is brought to us in the room - juice, toast, veggies. Healthy, filling, fresh and delicious. 1000 The doctors and nurses have told us how our day should ideally look like. They said he could arrive today. Or not. I sit thinking. My wife looks pretty normal. She doesn't look like she will go into labour today but if the doctors are correct, she would go into labour real fast. That would mean that her pain would begin soon, and reach severe level in a very short period. Scared but keeping okay! Monitoring the hell out of numbers on the display - they seem to be going pretty steady. 1200 Nothing yet! She says she is feeling some movement in her belly but they are similar to what she has been feeling over a month. I am beginning to get just a little bit nervous. It is probably the moment just before it. Planning to go out for lunch to a nearby Whole Foods.  1600 The contractions are beginning to accelerate and she is feeling it. They are painful but bearable. The doctors are rapidly monitoring. Two nurses are now fully dedicated to us. She has been put off any food or water. Upon feeling thirsty, she is only allowed to suck on crushed ice. They need to monitor the water levels. So, they are measuring every drop of liquid going in and coming out.

1800

The contractions have become even more severe and I don't want to leave her in there all alone. I should eat and be strong for the night because this could be a long night. The nurse has assured that she will keep her company till I return. I head out for dinner - get a sandwich packed for now, and one for the night and head right back.

 by 1900

The contractions had really gone to a level that she could not bear. The situation in the room was a little tense. The nurses seem to be doing okay but it was very tense for me. I won't let my eyes go off the displays for even a second. 

There were a few times when the baby's heartbeat display went to 0. I was shit scared for a few moments but adjusting the microphones brought it all back to where it was. However, there was this one time when I had gone out of the room. The baby's heartbeat actually dropped significantly. I was told later that it was because one of the contractions had squeezed the baby's head but this does happen a few times on babies' journey outwards. 

by 2030

The contractions were sever by now. She was writhing in pain, and screaming. I was feeling completely helpless. All I could do was hold her hand, and watch the monitors. It grew to such levels that we decided to go for a dose of epidural. It is a form of anesthesia, and it is a wonder drug. It works in magical mysterious ways (to me!). A special doctors administers it by inserting a needle into your spine and putting you on a special anesthetic drip. The person being given the anesthesia is given a button to boost a dosage if needed. The result is pretty awesome. Your body waist down goes numb but still allows you to use your muscle.

With the epidural, she could make sense of what was going on, and we even had conversation. She was still feeling some pain but nothing compared to what was going on before it. I have never seen her in so much pain. It was really comforting for me that they do have epidural. 

by 2200

No sign of the one to arrive yet! The pain was unbearable. The contractions powerful as earthquake! She was doing great - keeping sane and pushing hard. The nurses were helpful, considerate and caring. In one moment of silence, the older nurse said to me, "Told ya! It comes like a freight train. There is no stopping it once you get it going." I saw this freight train come and knock us out. 

They were coming at every four minutes. Like hell. Ruthless. Time bound. Even more intense. 

End of Day 1: For the record

Pretty much just a little medical speak so I remember what I see

Set up

1. On my wife's belly, they have tied a cloth belt with button holes to hold sensitive microphones. These help us monitor our baby's heartbeat (they do it way faster than we do! Prolly double!)
2. These microphones, or some other sensor in the belt also monitors the little contractions in the uterus. They are at least right now, so tiny that even the lady herself doesn't feel it. 
3. There is another display that monitors her own heartbeat. 
4. Oh, and a lot of this data is being shown graphically - a constantly moving graph and it is also being printed constantly.
5. They also has her thumb in a little clip - I really don't know what that is for.

Medicine stuff

1. It is so crazy geeky - this whole thing that they now understand. They have set up two drips on my wife. One is to constantly feed her some saline water/ glucose water/ electrolyte - to keep her hydrated. They say it will be continued all through the time she is here.
2. Another thing they have started is a hormone drip - they are sending it into her body at such a feeble rate - like about a drop or so, per hour! 
3. They have some other arrangement that they are not using at the moment, and I am okay not knowing what it is. 

I can't believe they have studied the human body so well that they know that they can put in a drop of something per hour, and that will make the uterus get into labour. This is like chemical wizardry! Impressed! 

Well, Good luck to me, my lady, and the one about to arrive! 

Still Day 1 @ hospital: Break on through to the other side

For reasons understandable and touchy-feely in nature, I am not going to use any stupid wisecracks here. I mean, I will try. :) We arrived at the hospital pretty happy and in high spirits. It helped that we had already seen the hospital, taken parenting classes that basically teach the dads that they will get shouted at or probably slapped on the day of the delivery - ha! the D-day! They kept us waiting for a short while, and I learnt a new word - Triage! Can you believe it that I did not know that word till now and just looked it up in my phone, and that I would never forget it now? So, in hospitalspeak, I was asked to wait in "Triage".

Then something extraordinary happened. A nurse came looking for me and my wife and said, "Follow me." It hit me hard. This walk we were about to take would end in a whole new human being, god willing. My wife followed the nurse and I followed my wife. I felt like a camera - an outsider trying to record everything while also trying to be aloof, trying not to let feelings overcome the moment.

It has been a while since we entered the room. All the machines, a nicely made bed, a couch, shower bunk, a few pieces of furniture are details of this moment. This is a special moment. I am taking a mental note to never forget how it feels right now. There are uncertainties - very real ones! There is only one thing that is certain. Our lives are going to change by unfathomable degrees.

I am going through the last nine months in my mind. I am trying to remember the journey we made. It all culminates in this room, in this moment. We are here. A baby is going to happen to us. This moment is full of uncertainties bar one - that life is never going to be the same! Even if the next two days go just as smooth as we want them to! God forbid if they don't! 

I am my wife are speaking with each other. Gently! She has just asked me to put a song on my laptop. 

Day 1 @ hospital: Life is like a box of chocolates

I had been looking forward to this day. For a long time. It arrived and it was nothing like I had imagined. I had pictured myself sitting quietly listening to A.R. Rehman's songs and sipping tea while having romantic thoughts of coming home with a brand new family member.

But...

Forrest Gump, the movie		cheatandextra, a YouTube user
...says that life is like a box of chocolate. You never know what you gonna get.		...says that chocolates are like a box of life. You never get what you gonna know.

The two above are great philosophies to debate, and I could have easily spend the first half of Day 1 sipping tea, debating them.

It so happened that I happened to see something so awful that I and my current hormones (see nesting instincts) revolted. As I sat ready to sip tea to slip into oblivion, I saw something brown and round on the far end of the carpet in my living room.

www.singaporecarpetcleaning.blogspot.com

Imagine spending a life time working on a painting, day after day, and finishing. what satisfaction, right! Now imagine sitting with a cup of tea to take a heart warming look at the work of your lifetime, and noticing your dog ate the bottom right corner. Yes! Now you get it.

I had by now spent the better part of my youth cleaning this damn carpet, and I expected return. I was just not in a position to tolerate some round brown thing spoiling my masterpiece.
So, a crusade began. It went on for about four hours. I went for the master stroke - repainting my masterpiece, my work of life. I started from the doormat outside the apartment, and worked my way diligently like an artist through the living room, merging into the contours of my kitchen sink. On light feet, with expert strokes, like wind, I gushed ever so swiftly into the bedroom and became one with the carpet. I laid on it, submitted myself and let the subconscious take over. I was driven. I let my mind wander, and my hand follow through to the possible nooks and corners that might have remained untouched yet by the light of knowledge and the power of my vacuum pump.

I was not ready to stop till the universe changed, and it changed. My wife threatened me that if I did not stop the madness, she would empty the dustbin in the living room right away. Sadly, I had to give in. I stopped. By then, it was 4 pm and we were expected at the hospital by 5pm.

We left for the nice ride to the hospital which is 10 minutes away from our apartment building, and on our way, we listened to songs that we had planned. Here is a sample:

(...to be continued)

The Hospital Suitcase

I know. I didn't believe it either. Then, I googled it, and found a whole new world exists around suitcases.

The amount of research and writing that has been done on how to, what to, when to pack these suitcases beats NASA to shame. Right Away in the introduction section of the dissertation.

There is also tonnes of advice available on where to store the suitcase once you have packed it. They have considered all sorts of things - what if there is an earthquake right when your wife gets into labour, or what if felons invade your home right on D-day.

None of these so called research buggers have written a single sentence on how to handle the suitcase conversation with your wife. She of course wants it perfect. You obviously want it perfect. The problem is your perfect is not her perfect.

Here is my advice: LADASS and hope you LADASSed
Listen And Do As She Says and hope you Listened And Did As She Said.

No! Don't protest! Shutup! Right Now! No! Done! 

Nesting Intincts: Papasoons of the world, listen up!

Says Wikipedia that:

Nesting Instinct

 "Nesting instinct refers to an instinct or urge in pregnant animals to prepare a home for the upcoming newborn(s). It is found in a variety of animals (both mammals and birds) including humans."^[1][2] 

It goes on to say that:
"In human females, the nesting instinct often occurs around the fifth month of pregnancy,^[1][9] but can occur as late as the eighth, or not at all.^{[citation needed]} It may be strongest just before the onset of labor.^[1][10][11]
It is commonly characterized by a strong urge to clean and organize one's home and is one reason why couples who are expecting a baby often reorganize, arrange, and clean the house and surroundings."


I am neither female, nor five months pregnant. Yet, I, a human male, am going through the dreaded Nesting Instinct.

A speck of dust on the carpet of my living room is like a blot of ink on the bedroom sheets. 

A blog of ink on the bedroom sheets is like Curry Masala srinkled all over my house walls.

And just the thought of sprinkled Curry Masala... is like... is like.... is like hyper-ventilation.

I am a soldier these days. My weapons are advanced like a vacuum cleaner and primitive like a broom. But what matters is the spirit. Cleanliness is next to godliness, is what I believe in these days. I have the urge to keep it shining, and polished, and clean, and free of virus, bacteria, fungus, and dust. I do not discriminate anymore. All sorts, forms, scale of muck is equally abhorred. I am on to the journey of the beyond. I have purchased extra supplies of cleaning liquid, just in case. I have backache, from bending over. I believe my future is at stake, and in the line of duty, I shall wash, clean, dry, wipe, rub, polish and even, dry-clean if the situation so demands.

I am but a papasoon, a mere dad, who is to be. 

Simplicty Versus Complexity: The bile juice story - Part 2

I will keep drafting this on my phone, and see how the day turns out. Will post when the day is over.

Braun Clock GIF by Dieter Rams, Dietrich Lubs

1. A week has gone by, not eating fat, and not eating everything that mommy forbid.
2. We are ready to go collect the test results.
3. I do not have GPS. It's going to take me some time to find the doctors's place. She is not in her usual clinic today.
4. We have packed a hospital suitcase - two pair of clothes, lunch, toilette, make-up (tell ya, very important), and sweet goody bags for the nurses and docs.
5. If the bile level is still high, we will go straight to delivery room, and hopefully, will come back three. If it is not so high, we will listen to our doctor with patient attention and do as directed.
6. I am nervous.
7. We bump into our doctor in the hallway. Our faces turn into giant question marks. She is slightly shocked, and says, "I will see you in a while. Don't worry, your numbers came down drastically. Your son ain't gonna come today."
   
8. Then, we meet the doctor properly. We are happy, and after about 20 seconds, we are thinking of mummy and her advice as the doc says, "I haven't seen bile down this fast."
9. Then, the doc say, "However, we will still induce labour in a week's time. Your son is ready to see you."
10. Time set, Place set, and we will see our son next week.
11. Praying hard!

And oh yes! As we came out of the doc's office, we saw a huge mall across the street. Here we go shopping for all the nice baby clothes!

A deep breath!

Simplicty Versus Complexity: The bile juice story - Part 1

Virat Roop, the ancient infographic

In the Hindu scriptures, when Arjun the warrior prince on the battle ground sees that his opponents were once relatives, teachers, elders and family, he buckles and his will gives way. In that moment, his charioteer, the lord himself tells him of the absolute truth, and shows him an infographic called the Virat Roop. This infographic told him the ultimate truth, and prompted him to choose to do his duty. 

Several hundred thousand years later, I try to guess-summarize what the conversation might have been like. 

"O Lord! This is silly. Why kill dudes I love?"

"Look at the infographic!"

"What? Here?"

"Yeah! It's kinda scaled up. You will have to tilt your neck."

"This is cool but if you don't give me the executive summary, they gonna start firing at us in thirty seconds."

"Okay! Here goes: "YOU COULD CHOOSE THIS SIDE OF COMPLEXITY OR THAT SIDE OF SIMPLICITY"

"What does that mean?"

"It means - if you really crave heaven, go through the drill."

In my mind, the fable signifies just one thing. Simple is heaven. To have a simple life is heavenly. To kill complication is to attain Nirvana. Moksha is when you don't have to fill up forms for anything. 

Life, however, doesn't go that way. Pregnancy? Definitely not so.

I don't know if I wrote about it earlier but my wife had been taking some pills to counter an auto-immunity condition. This required that we do a liver test every six months. In the recent tests, we figured out that her bile acid levels are higher than normal. So high that it may be bad for the baby in her. So, we may actually have to induce labour right next week. Six days from today! 

What my wife does in these situations is what any right minded lady would do. She calls her mother. 

"Mummy, doctor says liver is not so well. What to do?"

"Stop eating rice, and any kind of oil, butter, or any fat immediately. Have Cranberry juice daily. I am emailing you a list of what foods you should start avoiding. And hey! Docs know shit! Get a test again before they shove your son out."

"Okay mummy, I love you."

Fingers Crossed!

United Hearts

Source: www.i-am-pregnant.com

It's August! Already!

We are about a month away from seeing our boy!

Tonnes of stuff happened in the months gone by. Mostly happy stuff other than the times when she has to get up from the bed. Those are very unhappy times. Small little natural things have become exercises in themselves. Our parent friends sometimes say that it's only a beginning, and there is a lot more to come. We sigh!

However, there are many other things going on that doctors are putting us through. All for our good, of course, but it is a lot of things. The parenting classes, the several hundred types of insurance and other "I am not your responsibility" forms etc. However, of all of them, one experience is worth mentioning and sharing, and that thing is called "Stress Test"

by: Julietta Haynes

So here is the mechanics of it all. About a month before the due date, the uterus starts preparing for the moment of truth - the pushing on 0th birthday of your baby. The doctors need to test the stress in the belly because of all these things going on in there. So, they tie a belt around the belly of mom-to-be and measure stuff for a long time.

How it actually happens is pretty interesting too, almost divine and spiritual in some ways. We were taken to a room that was divided into several chambers using curtains. In each of these little chambers was an entire assembly of a computer and several things attached to it. Each chamber had at least one mom-to-be being monitored.

Source: www.hdwallpapers.in

They put a sensitive microphone to the bellies and listen for the heartbeats that come through a speaker. What you listen to in this room is the sound of heartbeats from over 15 different tiny hearts beating within the bellies of the mothers.

I might be getting a little bit ahead of myself but it was overwhelming to listen to several little hearts, all going at once, battling their way out to this big bad world of ours. It was insane, and it was a very spiritual moment for me.

Before I start crying, Love and World Peace!

Babymoon

Pretty Woman Location

On a very busy Friday, she had several meetings. I had several meetings too. We were more or less in the vicinity, and had planned to have lunch together. Such settings are dangerous. They defy all rules about planning, and executing. We were halfway through the lunch when I popped out a question. Actually, an innocent remark - This is perfect weather for a trip to LA.

"If we had a car, we could have gone."
"Had we planned. we could have left this morning."
"I need to do laundry."
"I have a few interviews lined up."

etc. etc. but we decided to leave. That day itself.

Now, we manged to rent the last car at the last minute at the nearest car rental shop. A nice Fiat 500, two seater, more or less.

... and we left by 11pm, and hit LA by 6am.

It helps to have friends in LA. We stayed for a couple of days actually, met superman too, and came back taking the breathtakingly beautiful CA1.

Here are a few pictures, for all the thousands of words that I have not written. Babymoon officially done!

Pic says it all

The Waxed Ladies

Beautiful CA1 Seals

The Drive back home

And it's a ....(drumrolls, trumpets)...

...BOY!

Yes! It can be that sudden. There can be drum rolls and trumpets but not always! Life..sigh!

So, Mommy and I tidied up for our trek to the Ultrasound Shop. I wore a clean pair of jeans, for a change. The air was clean, traffic light, mood high and heartbeat running. Every passing second was bringing me closer to knowing whether it's a boy or a girl. It was my nervous moment. Not that it mattered what the result was, but all my intuition and theories were put to test. Also, several romantic conversations with her and noisy parties with friends came to my mind in a flash - all the stupid fight over why girls or boys are better than boys or girls.

Pink or Blue! (... yeah! I know it's a cliche!)

 At the hospital, we were made to wait a while, and then, led through the hallway, to the room where it would be revealed. A room with a giant truth machine! The technician arrived, put some jelly on her belly, and began probing.

She kept speaking as she monitored.. legs alright.. hands alright... eyes are okay... the head looks like a human head... all seems to be okay.... yeah, you see that thing.. so he is a boy... the toes are alright, fingers are five, kidney. liver, stomach ....

It was over before I even knew it. Now I knew it's a boy!

The walk home was pretty interesting. Strange thoughts bubbled up as I saw little girls dressed in pink and wearing pony tails and giggling, and little boys dressed in blue and jumping pushing and shoving. (this is the most stereotypical post I have written, but that's how it felt that day!)

I know now!

Hurricane's gonna be back!

She is going to be around in a day or so. My excitement is paramount. Great food awaits me. Great conversations are going to follow. Great walks in the parks, and of course, great fights are going to continue just as they used to be. It has been a month and it was easy till this last week. Now, it is terrible to wait!

The thing that I am most excited about is the extra kilograms she is coming back with. Her mom, I have heard, had been after her life with a plate of food in right hand and a glass of juice in left. The shape has changed, the size has changed and there have been reports of conversations from inside the belly.

I cannot be more excited than this. Ever I think. Friends who have been through this before tell me that it is just the beginning.

Wait till she comes back!

Mama on the rocks...er...roads!

It is amazing what human beings together are capable of achieving! Discovery of fire. Wheel. Agriculture. Yes?

I am beginning to believe more and more that the contribution of women was far greater in these discoveries than that of men. So, human beings together, Yes, they can achieve but Men alone? God save them!

A lot of my very logical friends (men mostly but some women as well) will start questioning me and will try to prove it wrong. My answer to them would be - what do you write in a blog if you saw an elephant lift a tree? You would write - Elephanst seem to be strong creatures. That's what I am doing. I see women around me perform herculean tasks and I can't help but write that they seem to contribute far more than men can.

Often most of my abrupt observations stem from observing the only woman I have such close access to - My wife. My very pregnant wife. Instead of getting into the argument, and writing a thesis, let me present the mind blowing evidence of my case in point. I can easily declare that it is stronger than the evidence available for existence of UFOs, or after-life, or global warming.

1. She is four months pregnant.

2. She is travelling remote villages in the state of Bihar in India almost about a 100 kilometers everyday.

3. She is meeting village folks, talking to women and children and beating the heat and rather adventurous routines.

4. She is four months pregnant.

She called me a couple of days back and told me that she misses me. I miss them both too, and I am amazed by what she is capable of. Women, Salute!

Mommy: Buckled up, kicking ass

1. Having children is a natural process in the human lifecycle.
2. Having children shouldn't make you quite the course of life you chose.

Armed with these principles, wife left to complete a project. This is going to be an adventurous. She says it is going to be a twosome adventure. Now, wait! Before you jump to conclusions, let me state that she did not jump into it right away. We waited for the 14 week trimester (read here for details) to get over before she left so that everything become stable. That is called being sane. She did not give up and that is called being determined. Now, she is somewhere deep in India, has excellent hosts keeping her well-fed and cared for, and she moves around in a car with a dedicated driver and crate of bottled water and a pack of various lunches.

She told me that she thinks that her uterus is negotiating very hard with other organs especially her stomach and slowly inching forth into stomach territory. This means that her stomach has smaller kingdom and thus, smaller treasury. So, she needs to eat again and again in smaller quantities. Frequent nutritious wholesome balanced are the words we hear a lot these days. The top statement: she is out there doing her job and taking her care very well. The twosome are doing just fine.

The story of student papasoon is somewhat different from what even he imagined it to be. Not an unhappy one. It is different from what it could have been. The student papasoon had always been - live life as you please, eat only when you feel totally hungry and then gorge on food like crazied, health concers are for lesser mortals and music should be loud and constantly played.

It is surprising that the story has turned out to be different. It looks that of a young man having fun, keeping check on health, eating healthy, and not always listening to loud music. Here is how my day was today when they are not here:


7:30 - wake up
8:00 - walk to class with ample time in hand
9:30 - grab a coffee in class break
11:00 - plan the day and get to do the pre-reading for the class at 2:00
1:30 - grab a salad and eat with patience
2:00 - go to class
4: 00 - class over
4:00 - write a blog entry
5:00 - write a job application
6:00 - go to another class
7:00 - class over
7:15 - sit in a meeting with project team
9:30 - meeting over
9:40 - grab some food
10:00 - hit the gym
11:00 shower and out
11:30 - go home
Midnight - ZZZZZ

This is different from what it is when they are around:


7:30 - Wake up but keep cuddling up
7:55 - Realize you are horribly late
7:56 - Kiss wife and cuddle up for another minute
7:57 - Brush your teeth and decide to miss shitting
8:10 - Argue with wife who insists you need to have a banana and milk before leaving
8:12 - kiss and hug wife and leave with banana in bag and milk in a coffee holder
8:14- rush out of house hoping to catch a bus
8:30 - reach class 20 minutes late
8:30 - enter class confidently hoping that your panting tells them you tried very hard
09:30 - coffee and croissant
11:00 - plan the day and sit to do the pre reading for class at 2:00

11:15 - miss wife and call her
11:30 - resolve to sit down to do the pre-reading for the class at 2:00
11:35 - remember that she has run out of coins for laundry
11:36 - call her to let her know and end up talking for 15 minutes about how funny it was meeting her father
11:45 - resolve to do the pre reading
12:00 - realize that you now need to scan not digest the reading
12:00 - start reading but soon remember the banana in the bag
12:30 - start resisting the banana while doing the reading
12:35 - take out the banana and feel great
12:36 - continue reading
1:00 - wife calls reminding to have lunch and insists that you have it now cause health is important
1:01 - argument about long term and short term goal and relative importance of reading and lunch
1:15: decide to have lunch anyway
1:30: walk to cafe and order and eat
1:45 - decide no point studying now
1:46 - call wife and talk to her about how life would be ten years later
2:00 - go to class

2:30 - receive a text message telling you how your baby inside her is kicking
2:30 - start trying to figure out moments to check text message
2:45 - check the message
2: 50 - realize you were day dreaming and hide your face to avoid getting cold called
4: 00 - class over; you rush home, calling her to prepare some team
4:00 - have a good time sipping tea with wife and planning on where your kid will go to college
5:30 - leave for another class
6:00 - go to another class
6:45 - receive text asking if you want to have pasta for dinner
7:00 - check text; answer; class over
7:00 - project meeting begins, you try hard to focus
9:30 - meeting over; rush home
9:40 - have a hearty full meal; it is not pasta as you thought; it is a full meal complete with dessert
10:15 - dinner over; husband wife feeling awesome
10:30 - call folks back in India
11:30 - hit the bed
Midnight - ZZZZZ

Needless to say I am missing them and I have taken tonnes of creative freedom with this post! :)

Will life change? Totally?

Over the past few years, Life moved me through various stages:

Confused fearless awesome undergraduate studenthood 

↓

First time on job rookie
↓

Supposedly responsible executive
↓

Early thirties seeking meaning in life

During all the above stages, I classified my friends and well-wishers into categories that were convenient as per the stage of my life I was in: Those who suck and those who don't, those who are funny and those who are sentimental, and those who just drink and puke. 

As I hit the Early 30 "What is the meaning of life" stage, I started thinking about becoming a parent. This was the one time when I found it totally easy to classify my friends. They reacted in such differentiated manner that it was almost automatic selection into categories. Those who were in Dude, Rookie, Executive or Early 30 stages came in two types: First, to whom the word "kids" was "oh my god, they are awful" and second, to whom it was "oh my god, they are cute". I wisely agreed not to listen to them. Remember, I am already in the meaning-seeking stage of life.

Now, there was a category of friends/ mentors/ acquaintances I actually paid attention to. They were usually in their Late 30s or early 40s. Many of them had wives, some had divorced, other were planning to go rafting but most of them had had kids. Now, they also came in two distinct categories based on their interpretation of what happened when they had kids:

1.

Everything will change

2.
Nothing will change

Right eyebrow action

When asked how it was to have kids. The first category parents raise an eyebrow; usually the right one is raised (my right as I face them i.e.) farther up than the left one. They shake their heads several times before speaking. Then, they fix their eyes into a distant horizon remembering either the great time they used to have before the so called bundles of joys came bumping wailing crying and pottying into their lives. They were the Friday Party hunks and babes. They used to be the self-proclaimed ace of the base (whatever that means, sure sounds like wrooommm... speedy you know). Don't get me wrong, they love their children but their stand on life after kids is that no matter what you do, your life will totally change. You will have to discontinue tonnes of stuff that you do randomly and you will have to adjust to the newer version of yourself. They imply that it will mean cutting down on a lot of personal happinesses.

Balanced eyebrows action

When the second category answers this question, they generally close their eyes and hold that smile for an extra uncomfortably long second and then, only half open their eyes. They allow a peaceful sublime grin to spread wide open on their faces. Their eyebrows are also raised but in a smooth fashion and both of them go to the same height. They declare confidently that nothing changed in their lives. They report that they lived life on their terms before they had kids and they live it pretty much the same after they had them. They say they never HAD to do anything, or HAD to change anything except a few nappies sometimes which they did not mind at all. They say that earlier they found a lot of meaning in sticking it to the man on a Friday night in a pub, and now they are reading up on current affairs and pedagogy. Their premise is that change would happen - whether or not you have kids. A 45 year old person with no kids would probably not hit the bar every Friday. So, they are quite sure that they continued to do what they wanted to and kids were never a problem.

As I listen to both sets of my friends, I sit frozen. My eyebrows are each a ton of iron - can't choose between raising one or both. All I can do is swallow and hate the drama added to the situation by the movement of my Adam's apple. I am nervous. I have lived life pretty much as a free soul, although I am not a party goer. I am not really concerned so much about the symptoms as I am about the cause. What I mean by that is I don't mind changing the priorities and preferences of my life with age, times, stages, experiences and roles. What I dread is doing what I do not want to do. Somehow I feel that nothing will change, and life will be far more enjoyable and far more meaningful. 

Is this yet another stage settling in?

A little bit of blood goes a long way

This post ain't as much about sweet stuff as it is about scary stuff. There are these demons with several heads. They are known as Syndromes and the simplest to name and remember is called Down Syndrome. These are demons that could attack a baby even when he or she is on his or her way out. Here on, I will use He/His/ Him to refer to a baby that could very well turn out to be a girl. No apology!

This is the age of Big Data and Rocket Science, and for fuck's sake, Nuclear Weapons and whatnot. It is kind of hard to believe that Down Syndrome is battled against using probability and statistics. It is like sending a bunch of glasses-wearing, calculator-wielding geeks to fight against monsters with three heads and fifteen legs.

They told me that this Ultrasound, the one at the end of 14 weeks is a really cool one. They will show your baby in high resolution, you will see him move around, and have as much fun as you want for a pretty decently long period of time. The doctor in the meantime will measure his head and limbs and take a deep look at how the different organs look like, and very important, the general observation of the shape of his head. They will then match this observation with the parent's ethnicity and country of origin and the blood type. They will then go to a dungeon and churn numbers and in about half an hour, they will come back with something that is the best they can do but something that frustrated the hell out of me. They will tell you the probability ... mark my words.. probability of your baby's being stung by one of those demons including Down's syndrome. Now, for the uninitiated probability sounds like -- there is 10% chance that your baby may have this characteristic or something similar. Basically, they are saying that if you had a 100 babies, about 10 of them may have shaken their hand with the wrong guy.

It creeped me out totally. It frustrated me to no end. It made my tears swell up. It is unacceptable to me.

Luckily, after we went through this, the sweet kid-faced nurse came to us and introduced us to a man sitting in a nearby cubicle. She said, "This is John (not real name) and he is doing something that will arm us with molecules and medicines instead of probability and statistics to fight these demons."

Here is the science of it: Some awesome loveable geek has figured out that mom's blood has traces of DNA from the baby's cells. Now this is totally awesome because so far, the world knew that mom's blood and baby's blood never mix up and hence, the layman would think DNA as well doesn't mix up. Now, we know that it does. So, the geeks have figured out a way to extract that DNA from a small sample of mommy blood, and absolutely go to town on hardcore genetics and say things with certainty and not probability. This is so awesome. Imagine the applications of this in the life of parents who get false negatives (ignore if false negatives is too complex!)

So, wife duly gave her blood. 25000 women like her are giving a syringe full of their blood so that their sisters in future can enjoy their pregnancy in peace. Amen!

May the venture succeed!

The Him-Her Blur

When you start making a baby, you come across several questions that need to be answered. One type of those questions are about "When in which stage should I reveal it to who". I have written about it earlier in my blog. I have spoken with several Europeans, Indians, Africans, and Americans and majority of cultures and countries have this 3 month watch period. Ob-gyns differ in their opinion about whether the first 3 months are critical. One of them said to me long back, "It is about as risky and safe as during the rest of the pregnancy." The logicians say, "Well, the first three months you learn the behaviour to keep yourself and your baby safe. Then, you learn and thus, you will, as with other skills, become more at ease with handling your pregnancy." Before I forget, I came to know of yet another strange phenomenon. Yes! I came to know that the first trimester is not counted as three months - it is a strange thing but the first trimester actually is 14 weeks.

My story begins after the critical 3 months or 14 weeks are over.

This is the time when you are no longer battling the urge to talk about your baby. You have been told that it is now OK to talk. You are talking. You are talking to everyone who would listen. Naturally, when people listen to the news the first time they are very sweet to you. Only one of my friends put his hand on my shoulder and in a very grim voice said, "I can understand, man." I don't know who is being honest - him or them!

The big problem that I face during these conversations is the gender of the baby. I have no clue what to call him...er... her...the baby. English language screws me over again and again. "The child", "My child" and "the baby" either don't always make for the best sentences, and used repeatedly will get eyebrows raised. I mean, they invented pronouns so that we don't have to do "My child" again and again.

Every time I wanna talk about how I felt when I saw _ _ _ kicking in the ultrasound, I struggle between him and her. When my wife is ignoring her health and not eating for a long time, I go, "Hey, the baby wants something to eat, why don't we give _ _ _ some grapes (him/her) and so on.

The problem get aggravated when you are speaking with a group of people and you have just made a joke, and as men often do, you are laughing heartily at your joke and hoping everyone else will follow. In this moment, when you are worrying about your skills as a joke-teller or social conversation maker, a woman in the group would get annoyed. She would go grim-faced, squint her eyes and squirt back, "Don't mind dear! Men are so hard-coded to want a boy. Did you notice how you said you will clean HIS potty? Well, your baby could be a girl child. Grow up!" This leaves you oscillating between being stupid enough to want to protest and explain your point of view, and being pragmatic enough to eat shit and let go. I put these kinds on my "to be killed later" list.

Nonetheless, HE is on HIS way and I would love it equally if HE turns out to be a SHE, or SHE turns out to be a HE. I refuse to give up pronouns, have no will to write English 2.0, and I know saying "My child" is not cool.

In protest,
Papa Soon!

A week is a long time.

When she is pregnant, she is never really asleep. She has a continuous task. She keeps making the baby. It has been just about three weeks since my last post and so much water has passed under the bridge. For a starter, the baby has doubled in size. So, a small lemon has now grown into a peach - from 1.5 inches to 3 inches. Think of it this way. If you were 6 feet on the new year eve, by the 15th of January you would be the size of a baby elephant. Now that is called growth! Presidents! Economists! Pay Heed!

So much has happened in the past few week that this post is more a diary and sharing exercise than anything else. Let me recall what all happened around pregnancy and around issues around pregnancy and stuff around those issues that are issues around pregnancy. We will begin with the most exciting things first! 

We.. ahem.. SAW .. the baby for the first time. I was excited. My reaction was purely physical - tremors in body, heartbeat rate up, and a muffled shriek of joy. Soon, the technician in me kicked in, and started fiddling with the ultrasound controls, which wasn't met with appreciation by the Doctor. I could see two tiny hands, something around legs, and the right hand of the baby was going up and down in a swimming-dancing combined mix. I declared that the baby is a dance lover. We kept watching the baby. My wife did nothing for a while. She was mesmerized, and then, she did what she did. She cried. This is that moment when I struggle hard. 

We had a lot of samples taken for further tests and stuff. Tonnes of infections to rule out are being listed out. She is taking it all in her stride or they are taking it all in their stride. Life is good and God is in heaven. We were excited that only a couple of days later, we would have the high resolution ultrasound. The remaining part of the day was declared a holiday, a nice lunch was had in an amazing restaurant, and she and I kept dancing just as our baby did when being pictured.

I am already so emotional that I have to wait before writing further. Signing off, dancing! 

The cravings...Life at 4am

We heard all about it. We can imagine how Michael Jackson danced, or how it must have been to attend Woodstock. However, seeing and only seeing is believing. I welcome you to a peek into the world of cravings - deep deep cravings.

It was a rather cold night, and thermostat was set at 21 degrees Centigrade. Two people lay sleeping covered in a blanket on a comfortable queen size futon mattress. Deep in their sleep, engrossed in their individual dreams, they planned to peacefully let the night go by. Except that there was a third one. A little flame of life, working hard all through the night on .. ummm.. cell division. With each added cell emerged a new personality and with it, a new desire, a new expression and well, a new craving. Most cravings of this advanced life form are expressed through Mommy. She gets up, possessed and simply ASKS.

So, around 4 am, there grew new pang and it was expressed. It went something like this.

"hmmm....."

Snore. Snore. Snore.

"hmmm....hmmmm"

Snore. Snore. Snore.

"heeeey... listen.. hmmmmm"

Sleepy voice says "Yeah.. u okay?"

"Hmmmm"

"What happened?"

"I feel like having matar pulao with potato, dalchini, and chatni."

"Right now?"

"Yes."

The picture below to what she wanted to eat at 4 am on a peaceful night. You try and understand.
Photo from www.padhuskitchen.com