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.