Purn!ma Prabhu-Kamath

Their "Us" Moment

2013-04-19T15:23:00.000-05:00

They were driving back from a get together at a friend's house. The pitter-patter of the raindrops on the windshield was like a rhythm to their year old toddler's continuous babbles.

Suddenly he said something funny which made her laugh.

"I am happy that I can still make you laugh." he said, smiling at her earnestly.

"Mnh-hnn" She smiled back at him, reached for his hand and entwined her fingers in his.

A moment of silence later she responded, "You can make me cry too."

"I was thinking the same. And I am sorry for such times!"

... and just like that, they had their "Us" moment which they hadn't had in a very very long time.

;)

Why I Don't Have A Pet

2013-04-12T15:42:00.000-05:00

I have already once written about my pet parrot in my blog that I deleted. I feel the need to write about it once again. One of my favourite author, Preeti Shenoy, often writes about her pet dog. Yesterday's post was one such (rather her pic with Lostris, her pet Dob), which made my mind track back to the time when I had my own pet.

I do not remember the details very correctly, but I am going to narrate as I remember it. I was around 6 - 7 years of age when this parrot entered into our lives. My maternal grandma had recently expired. (I don't recall if it was days/ weeks or months before) The environment in the house was generally subdued. One day while returning from our grocery shopping, we found a wounded parrot in the semi-parking duct space. As kids, myself and V were very excited and wanted to nurse it back to health. We pleaded our parents to let us take it home, which they gladly accepted. My mother instantly related this to my grandma's return in another form.

We kept him warm and gave it some fruit and water. The next day my father got him a cage where he could perch. We always kept the cage door open, lest he wanted to fly away. Myself and V being happy at his arrival, spent all our free time with him. We tried to teach him to talk. (He was a grown bird and we were unaware that the best time to teach them to talk is when they are babies) Despite his inability to catch up on words, we loved feeding him soaked lentils out of our palms. We loved watching him flap his wings. In fact, we just loved the idea of him being there. It also seemed like he was getting better every hour.

Every morning after waking up, I would go pet him (even before I brushed my teeth)! Every noon when I came home from school, I wanted to feed him (even before I changed into my pjs)! I was smitten by this new entrant.

It was one of the weekend days, I guess, because that day we woke up late. My mother was trying not to get me near the cage. She was adamant that I brush my teeth and get done with the breakfast. I don't know if I obeyed her. All I remember is seeing my parrot lying lifeless in the cage. His eyes shut tight. (It was just a week or so after we got him home) We cried the whole day. My father buried him in the garden at the backside of our building. I cried throughout the burial uncontrollably. V tried to console me but he was tearing up too. I didn't eat anything for several hours. Mom had to coax me into having something.

After that, even though I did ask my parents to buy me a pet, I did not mean it. I did not try to convince them or beg them because I did not have the courage to face another separation. Till date I do not think I have it in me. It is wrong and morbid to think of separation even before I get one. But that's how it is with me. When I think of a pet, all I think is "how do I deal with its loss?" With that thought, I back off.

Whenever I see someone with their pet; how much love they share, the camaraderie; I flirt with the idea of how it would be if I had one. Now that I have a kid, I realise that in a few years she might demand for a pet. I am still unsure of how to deal with that. It would be unfair for me to devoid her of a friend and beautiful companionship just because I am averse to it. I know for sure that I cannot remain aloof and show no emotion towards it.

I don't know if I'll ever be ready to allow a pet to steal my heart and then have it hurt and broken because of loss/ separation. Perhaps I still have a long time to prepare myself for it. It'd be great if I have a change of heart and turn this reluctance into surety.

Marriage is a Three-Legged Race

2013-04-08T14:48:00.000-05:00

Isn't it? Two individuals, countless dreams, varied thoughts, myriad opinions, different strategies, but one goal. Tied at the feet, two individuals have to cross the finish line without tripping over. Sounds like an easy one, but many are stumped over it. Communication, co-ordination, communication is necessary. Likewise one cannot discount understanding, trust and the will to make it happen.

Tomorrow we are completing three years of married life. (Hence, the title) Our journey for these three years have been with its highs and lows. We have had a lot of wonderful moments that will remain etched in our memories till forever. And there were not so great moments too. Nothing out of ordinary, but everything is still special.

People change, relationships evolve and our whole world metamorphoses. In fact it keeps changing, at every event, every incident - big or small. We have too. Looking back at how we started off and seeing how we are today, has many differences. Fortunately those differences are not undesirable. I'd like to believe that we are wiser, have a better understanding of ourselves and people around us. We have learnt lessons together. Lessons that were harshly taught by others and situations. We have a better understanding of our life goals.

All these happened only after we made mistakes. As individuals, we did wrong and stumbled. While the other did get angry and frustrated, amends were made and a loving helping hand was always offered to the one on the ground. We have fought about things, bickered at each other's errors. But in the end, we did look beyond the ugly. I think that matters the most. In fact, on a personal note, I think fights are refreshing. They push out all the hostilities and you can start anew.

We have a beautiful daughter and we have enjoyed every bit of her. We loved bringing her up together, and with no help from anyone. It was something we shared. We have been able to relish every part of her first year. I cannot thank Kiran enough for being there for me at all those times and for not giving up on me during that times I felt like I was an undeserving mother. He took care of situations where I was insecure and scared. When no one supported me or my decisions, he told me to believe in myself and my maternal instinct.

We sat up all night when Aarnavi was unwell. Both clueless on how to go by the night. We have taken turns holding and soothing her when she cried on endlessly for reasons that were never revealed. The whole of last year has been "We". We worked as a team. Pushing away individual wishes, ignoring individual needs, we have worked in tune. It is a good thing when you are not alone in the sacrificing bit. Aarnavi's arrival gave a whole new meaning to our relationship. Agreed we have too little time for each other now, but whenever we do, it is special.

Three years is not such a long time. But for me it was, as every minute counted. And it still does. There is a big, winding road ahead of us and a lot more to be explored in this journey. I want my marriage to work and not in a compromising way. I want it to be at the center of my world.

This is the moment that I treasure the most...

Kanyadaan

Comparisons

2013-03-28T11:59:00.001-05:00

It starts with innocent childhood milestones. Does your kid sit up? Does s/he crawl? How many teeth does s/he have? Oh, mine is a fast learner. My baby has 16 teeth. Mine walks unsupported at 8 months, what does your kid do?

Don't they sound familiar? That is because at some point each parent has compared their kid to another of the same age. Are they slow? Are they lacking skills? Is this how it is supposed to be? Probably, the parents fear if or not their kids are developing the way they should.

Even long after they are convinced that everything is fine with the kids, they do not stop comparing. Even if the parent doesn't do it, someone else is always ready to strike up a match. Yesterday, a friend pinged me for a heart to heart, where comparison was discussed.

Every child, every individual is different. I have realised that over and over again in the past year. A lot of my friends had babies almost the same time that I had mine with some weeks here and there. And no two of them had the same developmental path. To say, Aarnavi has been a classic example of baby center emails. Her milestones were bang on. Every week I used to be surprised to read emails that looked like they were custom-made for Aarnavi. Yes, in a certain manner, life was easy for me. I did not have to obsess over if this was normal or that was not normal. In no way does it mean that my child is perfect or even that the others are below par. The faster parents learn to embrace their child's every aspect, whether good or bad, the better for the child.

The reason why I start with infancy milestones is because everything starts right there. The need to compare children with one another just keeps growing and stems well into their formative years. Comparing is unfair. Comparing can hurt. And comparing can result in low self esteem / bloated ego in kids, depending on which side the kid falls. No one deserves to be compared.

I know it because I have grown up with my share of being compared to others with my part of the balance always on the sad side. I know how it feels to be constantly measured by a yardstick and not living up to the standards. I have lived at the receiving end of not being perfect compared to others. Trying to be like someone else when you cannot be is an insurmountable task. Hence, the frustration of not being able to, despite trying hard is unimaginable.

From physical attributes like height and weight, to grades in school/ college, to finer skills like cooking. I have been, and even today am, compared. Today, it doesn't matter much to me. I do what pleases me and such comments pass by without affecting me. But it was not so earlier. Every comment was a stab. Every put down felt like being stomped upon. Relatives are meant to do it. One of my aunts has never passed an opportunity to look down upon me in some way or the other. Her child has always been superior. I hated having to visit them or having them over. I always wished we could avoid them, but never could as they are close relatives. Sadly, my parents didn't react much to it. They have also at times compared me with V, which of course I hated and made me sad. I never thought of complaining for the fear of others thinking I was all sour grapes.

Comparing makes one angry and rebellious or vain and egotistic, again depending on where s/he stands. That anger and rebellion can go in two extreme ways. One it can give you the will and strength to prove everyone wrong and overcome all obstacles. For others, like me, will learn to give up, sometimes too easily. It is a major bog to ones self esteem. Imagine being reminded repeatedly of others' achievements and lack of yours. Unfortunately, this tendency to give up early and easily stays well into your life. (To give up giving up requires a lot lot more hard work). Till date I haven't been able to get rid of my habit. I won't even give it a try.

I can explain why it feels better to abandon the battle. Basically, it is a battle. You may have heard of the saying "Try but don't cry" or even "You shouldn't stop trying until you get there." There is also "Barking up the wrong tree." and "If you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing it is stupid." I believe in the latter. It is so much easier to say "No I cannot do it." than try and fail and be reminded about it, humiliated and written off forever. There is no appreciation for having tried hard despite not wanting to/ inability to do so. Making someone understand about your abilities and inabilities is not worth your time. It is best to avoid such comments and shut them out.

Each one has a different design. If one can do something well, other might just not be able to wrap it around his head. It doesn't mean one is superior and other is useless. Again, I say that comparing is unfair. It is wrong to pit one individual against another. For a child growing up constantly being compared, it causes immense stress and harsh mental effects. (I have not researched on any, but it is my experience). It stumps free and healthy growth.

Why as parents do we want to be a cause of mental abuse to kids. Why does looking down at someone else so inviting? What kind of thrill we derive out of it? I have friends who compare their kids with Aarnavi, saying she is this tall, my kid isn't, or when did she start eating solids, mine is this older than yours and still refuses to. I take the opportunity to tell them that their kid might not be ready for it, or maybe they haven't yet experienced the growth spurt and they should wait for it. I have problems with my kid too, and I discuss them when I feel the need to/ when I feel something might not be right. But instead of turning a discussion into a raving comparing debate, I try to make it more into how to deal with it session.

Comparisons creep in mind. Call it maternal instinct or basic human nature. It is there. It is important to nip it in the bud and make conscious effort not to do it. If someone else does it, telling them right in the beginning should avoid further attacks.

I do not know how what skills my child has. Whether she'll be good in studies, or she'll prefer sports over fashion. I do not know. But one thing I know for sure is I will not be comparing her with peers. I will not stunt her mental growth by telling her she is too stupid to do something. I do not think it is the way to get the best out of someone. It certainly did not work for me.

Rough Around the Edges

2013-03-21T14:55:00.000-05:00

When my husband made Aloo baingan (stir-fried eggplants with potatoes, if you must) for the first time a couple of weeks ago, I was all praises. I just couldn't stop raving about how wonderful it tasted and how lucky was I to have him in my life, every time I went in for a helping.

Yesterday, upon request, he made it again. This time, I gulped my entire portion without a single word. Even a while after dinner, I did not say anything about how it turned out to be. Only when he openly asked me about it, did I realise that I'd given no reaction whatsoever. It was good as it was previously. What was missing this time was my excitement to acknowledge the same.

I am like that. A lot many times than I want to be. I forget to acknowledge. I forget to speak up even though that is exactly what I am thinking. I do that so many times only to realise a tad too late. Like in this case, I was admiring the meal with every bite, but it never occurred to me that I should speak up. It may not seem such a big issue right here, but there are times when I should say something and I do not. It is preposterous, if you ask me.

Lately, I started to reflect on why I do this and I did come up with a possible explanation to my dearth of manners to acknowledge something. I think, I am so over stuffed with a certain emotion, that they block out all my words. There is so much to react to that I do not react at all or I react later/ lesser than expected. Rather I forget some essential things; like the formality to do or say something. I am going to quote a few examples.

Whenever any of my friends come home, I (have) never, never offered them a glass of water. Even if they come walking in the hot summer sun, I have never sat them down and offered them a drink of cool water. My friends tease me that I have no manners and do not know how to treat guests. This happens only with my friends. If it is any other person, I'll be the first one to jump up and do the needful.

I always get an earful from my mother for this. Knowing my lack of "Atithi Devo Bhava" spirit, she makes it her job to look after my friends. In fact, a close friend of mine and my mom exchange looks on how long I take to realise my blunder!

I am actually so happy to see them that I instantly launch into a charade and forget all about carrying out basic formalities. (Also in this case, I think my close friends are welcome to think of my house as theirs and help themselves to the kitchen. Of course, it doesn't always work that way!)

It was a few days before Aa's birthday that another of our close friends offered to help us in the preparations. Although they have a kid of Aa's age, they said they'd love to come over a day before and help. All I could manage to say was, it wasn't required since somebody else had already agreed. I did not thank, nor did I say I was sorry that I couldn't use their help at that time. They are very close friends and I had no intentions of hurting them or even being mean to them. But there I go, without Thanks or Sorry and just firing an explanation. I was very much humbled by their offer and my ignorance to accept that and communicate it to them hurts me even today.

Likewise I forget to congratulate, offer sympathies, be enthusiastic or wish someone. On a few occasions, I do not want to do them consciously, but these are not those. I genuinely feel happy or positive about something and I fail to execute the same in words/ reactions.

I need to work on it!

The Sushi Bit

2013-03-11T14:13:00.000-05:00

Some crazy weeks are behind us. There are a lot of things immigrants like us won't tell. The one thing that keeps hanging on our heads like a sword is the visa thing. Especially when it is nearing its expiry date. All the action begins then. Application for extension, mental preparedness to leave the country in case of rejection, selling out all the gathered stuff, dealing with the leasing issues...

Fortunately, as I write this, I realise that everything is sorted out. Well, at least for the time being. We have moved to another apartment. It was a difficult task considering I have this active toddler who wanted to supervise and screen every item that was to be packed. It's just a matter of time before we start packing again to haul ourselves back to India. :)

To celebrate a little, which we hadn't in all the time that we were involved in planning and packing, we decided to eat out leisurely. My husband has been going ga-ga over this Sushi place since last year. Knowing that sushi is raw fish, I never had the courage to try it out. However yesterday, I managed to get over my reservation.

We went to Sushi Ai

I ordered a drink called Saki-Tini, which was vodka and saki, garnished with strips of cucumber

and these were what we ordered

This was Dragon something. Although the snap doesn't look all that impressive, when it came on the table, it was covered in blue flame, looking brilliant.

and the orange one at the back was crispy rice sushi, with Tuna. The yellow one was called Mini Me. It was spicy tuna rolled over Octopus.

I apologise if that killed your appetite. I like to try out new things and octopus was on the list.

Sushi is served with soy sauce and wasabi sauce (the two to be combined). The spotlight was the wasabi sauce. It is highly pungent. There is no other taste or flavour to it. Or rather, the pungency hits so hard that you concentrate hard not to choke on it. Once you bite into a dipped sushi, it's like mini nuclear bombs go off in your mouth, climbing up the nasal cavity. It was super duper pungent.

Having said that, I have no recollection of how the Sushi itself tasted. So whether it was tuna or octopus or crispy rice, all I can gather is the small puffs of steam that left my ears.

I wanted to try some more and enjoy the experience a bit, if not for Aarnavi, who decided to be unusually fussy and irritable. Even after being fed, she was in no mood to let us eat in peace. We managed to gobble up the rest and head home. Sigh!

All in all, it was something I will never forget. Honestly, I don't know if I'll try another sushi for a long time now. ;)

I'm the "GGTTB"

2013-02-26T15:16:00.001-06:00

Now the tattoo is more than a year old. It is still gathering all kinds of reactions from people around us. Not many people at my husband's office knew about it since he mostly wears a full sleeved shirt. A few days back when he wasn't, the tattoo caught the eyes of his co workers. To say that they were flabbergasted, is saying the least.

It seems they were all amused that he would go through all that pain to get his wife's name inked on him. One of them (a non-Indian) also went ahead and asked what if we were to go through a divorce. To which my husband said that he wasn't thinking of since he loved me and, moreover we are happy together. It seems she still insisted in asking what if later in life we were bored of each other/ found someone else and wanted to split. My husband still maintained his reply albeit he threw in something extra to quench her thirst for an answer. He told her what I usually say to him playfully. He said that I have threatened to kill myself and return to haunt him forever. I guess that co worker is used to having a last word to every conversation, so she adds, "Try that. Let's see if she will go ahead with her plan."

I was not done laughing with this whole fiasco when he came in yesterday with another episode. It seems the word had spread and those who hadn't got a chance to speak their minds about the tattoo in discussion, did.

One said I was an expert manipulator. Who else can get her husband to tattoo her name onto his arm. They were not done pulling his leg yet. Other asked if it was done before or after marriage. On hearing the answer, they were sure that I was a dictator. It seems everyone laughed it off. Fortunately, they didn't just call me a conniving, evil predator. :)

Well, we both are still finding it funny at how people get goosebumps at the site of the tattoo. It probably would have been a safer bet to get a burning skull or a 3D spider. But a wife's name???!

One would think I am fuming with rage, but the truth is I love being the center of attraction even when I am not in the room. I, hereby, title myself the "Go-Get-The-Tattoo-Bitch" ;) ;) ;)

28! Is it a big number?

2013-02-13T14:55:00.000-06:00

I don't think so. I celebrated my 28th energetic year yesterday and loved every minute of it. And no matter how old I am or will be, I will always love gifts from near and dear ones. I'll let the pictures do the talking 'cause I am busy loving them. :)

On the birthday eve, I got chocolates from V and the family...

which were first claimed by

First thing on the birthday morning got flowers from the husband. I have told him it is ok if I do not get a gift from him, but flowers are a must. I think flowers enhance good moods. Their presence makes me happy. What do you think?

After a relaxed hamburger lunch at Red Robin, saw Special 26 (which of course, I loved). Aa allowed us to watch the movie in peace. :)

Evening we decided we need a cake and some friends to celebrate...

...that's what's remaining of it now!

and the friends bought me this - Perfume and photo frame! Thanks, Alam, Arti and Vishal! - I LOVED them!

Just when I thought my gift quota for this year was over, I received this from my parents today...

chocolate covered strawberries! yummmm.....

*I do not believe in shying away from your age. Shout it out loud. Let everyone know how many years you have been awesoming people around you. :)*

The Untold Horrors of Breastfeeding

2013-02-05T16:46:00.000-06:00

Again let me remind you of some disclaimers

1. Perverts - BUZZ OFF!

2. Breast feeding is a sensitive topic. Some might even consider discussions on the subject, shameless. For what it is worth, I have decided to put away the shame and hence the stigma revolving around this topic.

3. Again, the following is what I experienced. You may have a totally different tale to tell. If you are already a mother AND did not have to face whatever I had to, please do not try to sell me how wrong I am. I know what I went through. If you are a mother to be, I suggest you read and do not obsess over it. This might be an eye-opener and for your mental preparedness.

4. If you are no where near mothering, read for entertainment! Hope it'll help you in your future. What else can I say?

5. If it is some husband reading this, please continue doing so. It'll help you get a better understanding of why your wife might be ready to throw things at you every time you speak. (Or, if she is not preggy yet, you'll know where to come when she gets there)

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I was sent home with strict instructions to strictly breast feed my baby. Formula was to be used only in case the baby wasn't satisfied with the b-milk.

My knowledge about breast feeding was limited to what and how it is shown in the television ads. Let me tell you, that those ads are grossly misleading. They were for me. The pain that I experienced in the hospital during the initial trials of b feeding was supposed to wear off. The milk was supposed to come in and I was supposed to be able to enjoy the whole thing. That was the ideal picture.

Like I said, I was to b feed every time Aa was hungry and not give the formula. This meant that I had to offer b feed much more frequently than I did at the hospital. The feeds were 1.5-2 hrs apart, each session on each side lasting for 15 minutes. All that latching, de-latching, re-latching and unlatching led to some cuts on me. They did not bother in the beginning.

It was at the end of the day that I became sore, red and bruised. The suckling on a raw bruise led me to cry. I would cry throughout the feed. Not only did the bruises keep getting worse during every feed, but also my ability to bear the pain. Imagine a scraping an arm and someone gnawing at the cut at regular interval. Well, this pain was much worse. Post partum women's breasts and nipples are a very very sensitive area.

Anyone who heard of my problem were kind enough to tell me that suffering was a part of the package. This is perhaps the last thing you want to hear from a bunch of ladies who seem to have taken on pregnancy and childbirth by its horns. What would shock me was their standoff-ish attitude and inability to empathize.

Guests had started coming in to stay for Aarnavi's naming ceremony on the thirteenth day. Instead of getting any easier, it was getting more and more difficult for me. The pain would be so unbearable that I couldn't let her finish off the feed, which invited some earful from my mother and my aunt. I wondered how my tears, my clenched fist and teeth failed to communicate to them how much painful it was for me. And, I wondered how my swollen eyes would look to the guests, wondered what would they think might be the reason behind them.

At such times, even a casually spoken comment hurts a lot. Like the time my mother said, if you cry for this pain, I can't imagine if you had had to go for natural birth. All I could think of was, natural birth happens once, but here I am bearing excruciating pain every day at every two hour interval and for god knows how long! It makes you feel like you are the worst mother ever, who cannot bear a simple pain. I started blaming myself for being selfish and thinking about my pain instead of feeding my baby with all that nutrition and immunity booster filled b milk. I couldn't free myself from these on shuffle, on-loop thoughts.

All this was not without drama from my little one. She would howl every time she latched on. She would howl every time I detached her from myself because obviously she was not satisfied. I even tried to express milk manually (tried the pump later) so that at least my scars would heal and my baby would still get what she needs. That did not seem to be working either.

Things got so bad that one day while feeding, my scars on one side bled and my nipple on the other side tore. Not a cut or scrape but a tear! The doctor did prescribe application of ghee and an ointment for the dryness, soreness to go away. None provided relief.

The only person who saw the pain and spoke it out, was my husband. One day he sat next to me, held my hand and cried saying, "I cannot see you going through this." Even though my aunts and my mother might have understood, they used the reverse psychology. My mother believes in firm words instead of soothing touch. I do too. It gives courage. But not this time. This time I did not need courage. I wanted to be let to be weak and break down.

Crying was now my daily routine. I was in tears for both the reasons - for suffering the pain and for not being able to provide for my daughter. The mental torment didn't cease. In addition to that my doc was hell bent on getting the b feeding done.

Well, a major player in the confinement period is the woman who comes for massage et al. She is one knowledgeable doctor who has gathered all that not from books but by experience. Her expert diagnosis told me that my milk wasn't getting expressed in a way that it should and that is why the baby cries so much when I offer her the feed. Of course, being newbie myself, (and do not forget the mind tends to fog at such times) I believed her. And it made sense, since my baby was not getting it as easily, she was trying hard at suckling, which meant more scraping on my nipple.

My mother got another reason to obsess. She started to worry continually on why this was happening. We tried every trick to boost the milk supply. Most suggestions were related to me eating right. Some said I needed to eat rice porridge, some said mutton curry would do the trick. My cousin insisted methi kheer (sweet pudding made of Fenugreek seeds) would help. Still someone else suggested I eat jowar bhakri (flat bread made of Sorghum grain). And of course, the doctor increased the dose of Satavrex (natural galactogogue) added milk from two glasses to three a day. Again none of which worked in a way it was supposed to be. The only thing increasing was my weight and going down was my self esteem.
Seeing no results, my mom started getting tenser by the day. By now, I was totally done with b feeding. I struggled to find that special bond. It was not something I looked forward to. I hated b feeding with gusto! There I said it!

The last straw was when the masseuse commented that I did not try hard enough - I break down soon and bearing pain is not my cup of tea. According to her, I gave up too soon too easily. I was not offended by what she said because it was true. Every person has different tolerance level and perhaps mine is really low. I know I gave it my best shot. I know how much I have wished to be like one of those ladies on the television ad - feeding their baby with a contented look on their face. But no one tried to understand that I wasn't doing it on purpose. No one seemed to care that I wanted to try and failing each time was a resounding slap on my face. The guilt, the shame, the failure coupled with sleep deprivation was stressing me out. And that is perhaps why I wasn't able to give my 100%.

I hated it to an extent that I prayed my milk run dry. I was sick of the physical pain. I was no longer in a position to accept anything said against me. All my efforts to be the ideal mom seemed to take so much of my energy that I stopped enjoying the experience altogether. I thought if only I did not have to b feed! And I couldn't, for the life of me understand why my mother was getting all paranoid about "not enough b milk". The baby was getting some nutrition. Why should I feel guilty? I am not doing anything purposely. Nor was I starving her. If there was an option to b milk, why not adopt it because this fiasco was going nowhere, except put me through pain and keep the baby hungry!
The trials for successful b feeding were still on. On doctor's suggestion we bought silicon nipples to be attached over. They too proved futile. Also with the breast pump I couldn't gather enough milk, although my breast felt pretty heavy and full. This inability to completely empty my breasts gave me a sore spot on one side. It was hard to touch and I feared if it was a formation of a lump. It was backed by fever too. My mom had to experience this and she said it could be a possibility of a lump.

I saw the doctor for confirmation. She said it was not a lump but a breast abscess symptom which has happened due to blocked milk ducts. I was given oral medication to treat it. With that not only did the hardness disappear but also the milk supply to that side. With some pain taken off, I was relieved but I knew better than to let my thoughts be heard.

From that day onward, the b feeding pain went down many notches. Because of the lesser milk supply, I was not obligated to feed for long or so frequently. This gave my cuts time to heal and I had longer breaks in between pains.

By the time Aa turned 3.5 months, the b feeding had completely stopped. Although everyone else seemed to grieve about it, I was feeling happy. My torture had ended. If today I were to choose between a year more of sleepless nights or a month long b feeding, I am ready to sacrifice my sleep.

Motherhood - The Beginning

2013-01-28T14:59:00.003-06:00

Previously written Pregnancy - Finding out, Pregnancy - Middle Ground, Pregnancy - The Last Leg and The Awaited Childbirth

It took me few hours to come out of the heavily induced sleep. That day, I did not get to hold my baby at all. Anyway she was asleep for most of the day.

That night I got the shock of my life. My girl decided to turn on her lung power. The screeching was only too loud for the small room. Her cry seemed to resonate throughout the hospital. I was worried and a bit embarrassed too. My mother was with me and she called in the nurse. It was time for her night feed. It was just an hour and a half, when we experienced another wail. This time it was soiled diaper. The nurse came up again and gave a refreshers course to my mom on how to hold, handle, change and wrap the baby. The cries continued at an interval of 30 minutes to an hour, depending upon the situation. I still had all the pipes and IVs in me; hence I was only an immobile observer of this night scene.

I was getting frustrated being so tied down. I could hardly move. And in spite of the IV, I was feeling hungry. The nurses said it was impossible, but truly I could feel my stomach growling and I wanted something solid to keep it in. Not to mention the added irritation of not being able to hold my little one being unable to sit up.

On the third day, I was made to sit up and walk around. Thankfully, I did not pass out. Maybe it was my keenness to be able to be mobile again, but I didn't feel faint or didn't stagger my steps. I had a lot of heaviness where I was cut and stitched up. Though there was no pain. I walked over to my baby and took her in my arms. The moment was surreal. Till then, anytime I wanted to be near her, my mom would bring her and let me see her from close quarters.

I was, however, given strict instructions not to sit for too long and strain myself. It was also the day I would begin breast feeding. I was looking forward to it and all that famous "special bond" thing. What I encountered was excruciating pain, soreness and heaviness. All this while I was thinking, rather made to believe that breast milk starts coming in as soon as you deliver. But things seem to be different with the C section cases. It is said that the contractions trigger the milk glands and hence your body gets a clue to supply milk. In my case, I never felt a single contraction.

The nurses came in to aide in the feeding. While one was teaching me how to hold the baby so that she latches on the right way, the other one was educating me on how to massage the chest in order to effectively express milk. Although the entire thing seemed to go the wrong way, the nurses insisted that I keep doing it till the baby latches on properly. They were sure that it would get easier with every feed.

My baby had no problem latching on. It was the lack of milk supply that made her scream. It was an equal nightmare for me (and for many days to follow) that I was getting bruised each time she latched on and tried to suckle.

I was still not flexible or fast and wasn't even allowed to be. That night when my mother cleaned her up again after a potty episode, I cried. I was much too obligated and felt like a burden to my mother. There she was, doing everything for me and the baby and I was hardly even helping. I stood there and cried as I watched my mother do what she did so swiftly.

You feel bad when you can't do what you would have given anything to do. Like holding the baby, rocking her to sleep and even changing potty diapers for numerous times. It felt like I am missing on some precious moments. And from being so lean and bouncy to suddenly feeling tied down and heavy, emotions were on the loose!

The fourth day was as good as the previous ones. We both howled during the breastfeeding sessions; each one louder than the other! There was no pain, either the stitches or the cut, but a lot of heaviness. It felt like my bottom half had suddenly transformed into lead. I needed assistance to get up and down from the bed.

The whole day the baby slept and being alone, I would be worried. How can this girl sleep so soundlessly during the day when at night time she is a banshee? Isn't she hungry? I used to get scared that something has happened to her and would summon the nurses citing one reason or the other to check up on her.

As the clock struck 11 PM, she would start all over again, which is when I would wonder why she couldn't save the drama for during daytime when there was ample background noise to mask her screeches and everyone was wide awake and had the energy to deal with her!

Formula feeding was left to the nurses as they were used to feeding babies as small as she. They would always come by sleepy eyed and we would worry constantly if she was feeding correctly. My mother kept them awake by chatting about sundry details of their life.

I was supposed to be discharged on the sixth day. I was already getting bored staring the walls and being confined in such a small space. I wondered if they would let me go any sooner.

The next day, when my gyn came for the routine visit, I placed my humble request before her and she gave me a thumbs up. She said everything looked fine and I could be going home that evening. I was elated. I called up my mom and told her that I was ready to be home. She panicked as she was not expecting me until the next day. She was planning to cleaning our room, take out some old baby stuff and get the room baby friendly.

... will be continued

The Awaited Childbirth

2013-01-26T16:09:00.000-06:00

Previously written Pregnancy - Finding out, Pregnancy - Middle Ground and Pregnancy - The Last Leg

The 9th month took a toll on me. Not only did I have aches all over, I had an outbreak of pimples too. That seemed to convince everyone around me that I'd be having a baby boy. They say if you look beautiful and your skin is glowing then you have a baby girl. Well, not true!

I was done with the pregnancy thing and all I wanted was the extra weight off me. Hence, more than being scared for the C-section, I was looking forward to it. That said I was a wee bit disappointed too since I ~~have~~ had not a scar on me. Somewhere in me I didn't want the C-section to happen.

I got admitted the night before. I demanded Kiran be with me for that and chose him over my mother. That was the night we would get to spend "only the two of us". God only knows when we'll be able to do that again. Anyway, my parents left me and my husband and promised to be there at 6 AM. (My operation was scheduled at 7 AM)

The nurse took me away for a quick check of my blood pressure, weight and baby's heart beat. For the record, I weighed 68 kgs, and my blood pressure was normal. I asked her if the OT was ready for tomorrow and would I be able to take a look at it. She took me in with a firm warning not to touch anything as everything was sterilized. She gave me a nice little tour. "This is the operating table where you'll be tomorrow. These are the instruments which they are gonna use on you." I loved the display, just like a chef would, there was a variety of scissors and knifes and blades. Sorry for the lack of correct medical terms for them. And there was a shelf full of small vials which were medicines supposed to be used in case anything went wrong. I hoped they didn't have to use it during my procedure!

Before I turned in for the night, the nurse reminded me that I could not eat anything after 12 AM; not even water.

Despite the calm environment, I almost did not sleep the whole night. It was the first time that I was ever sleeping in a hospital as a patient. The bed was also creaking. And the anxiety of being face to face with my baby was overwhelming.

On the D-day, the nurse came in to wake us up and got some hot water for my bath. The nurse started to get me ready for the OT. Again, my weight, BP and baby's heartbeat was checked. Everything was within the normal range. I was to wear the hospital gown, get an enema and head to the OT soon after. That was the plan.

After the enema, I came to know that the anesthesiologist was not in yet. I was made to sit in my room. My parents came along with another family friends. It was past 7 AM by then. Everyone tried to make this small awkward talk, which made me want to throw up. Everyone was deliberately trying to take my mind off the impending operation thinking I was scared. If only they knew that I would be racing to the OT! I wanted them to keep mum but they continued. It was almost 8 AM when they decided to escort me in. It was in that moment that my mom remembered something numerological and told me to write 24 on my palm. She believes that it helps in the task getting done successfully. Don't ask me.

The moment was unreal. All those 9 months flashed before me. That journey which in theory seemed long had suddenly shrunk. I was assisted to the operating table. One nurse velcro-ed my right arm and attached a pin on my index finger and informed me that would be monitoring my BP through out. The anesthesiologist came in, introduced herself and asked me if I was scared of needles. She inserted the IV in my left wrist. I was all wired up.

Meanwhile, my gyn and her husband came in. While my gyn was getting in her scrubs, her husband started chatting with me. With the help of some nurses they made me sit up again and asked me to bend forward as much as I could manage.

"Are you scared?", he asked.

"No. I just want this to get over."

"I thought so. Your face says it all."

I jerked suddenly as the nurse applied the cold spirit on my back. Sadly for that reaction of mine, the nurse had to bear the wrath of the doctor. "You should always let the patient know what you are doing to them. Do not ever catch them unawares." He turns to me and says "Our everyday routine. Don't mind!"

He saw the number 24 written on my left palm and asked me about it. He was amused that my mom believed in it!

I was to get 2 needles in my back. He told me that the needle was small and I shouldn't feel more than like an ant bite. Truly, it didn't feel much - the first one that is. The second one was a bit rough.

The moment they pricked me, everything started to gain momentum. I could feel my legs going numb. I was covered from stomach down. The anesthesiologist inserted the urinary catherter. Another nurse held the oxygen mask above my mouth and told me to breath normally. The doctor patted my legs and asked me if I felt anything. By now, I was a little foggy. I was awake but not clear minded. I could hear the doctors making their conversation. My gyn told the pediatrician about the non-kicking incident.

I could see them passing the instrument and working on my bump. I hardly felt anything, hence I imagined their procedure. I was too scared to talk. I didn't want them cutting some other internal organ of mine due to distraction.

Within minutes, I felt pressure in my stomach. I couldn't really feel anything, but I could feel a lot of moving and shaking. I saw the nurse take away my baby. She did not cry as soon as she was out.

I asked, "Is it done?"

"Yes it is, dear."

"So?"

"So what did you want?"

"I wanted a girl and husband wanted a boy."

"Well, congratulations. You won."

Just at that moment, we all heard her first cry ever.

In a few minutes, a nurse brought my baby to me all wrapped up. She was chubby, pink and was fluttering her eyes at me. I kissed her and they took her to her dad.

You should sleep now, said the anesthesiologist. "Do you think I can, after seeing my baby?"

"Oh, of course you will. Right after this shot." And I was given the sleep inducing shot. I was quickly drifting off to sleep. For the fear of embarrassment, I was trying to pull my hand free from the doctor who was now explaining the 24 number logic to everyone present in the OT.

After that I have no recollection of how I was wheeled into my room or shifted on to the bed. I have a faint memory of my parents telling me that everything went well. When I came to again, Kiran was with me. My right foot was paining by being in the same position. I needed help in repositioning it. I did not trust my husband at that moment. I demanded him to call my mother, who had gone home to fix lunch. I was adamant to see her.

From that night, began my journey of true motherhood - sleepless nights, screaming infant, painful feeding time and lots and lots of frustration.

... will be continued.

Pregnancy - The Last Leg

2013-01-25T15:49:00.004-06:00

Previously written Pregnancy - Finding out and Pregnancy - Middle Ground

After what seemed like ages, the day finally dawned when I had my near and dear ones beside me. The baby shower was fun with nearly a hundred people attending. I know, too many people for a baby shower, but that's how it is with my FIL. The very next day we were supposed to come to Pune. As much as I felt bad leaving my in-laws place, I was excited to be at my hometown after a year and half. Who isn't?

We were to see my final gyn the next day of arrival. The visit was as expected full of do's and don'ts. This time however, I had to undergo an internal examination. Everything went well, specially the part where she told me I could eat whatever I wished to and if anything went wrong she'd be there to straighten me out. Yes, she ok-ed my cravings for roadside chats and stall chinese.

I also had a USG, where the doctor said that the baby is already head down position which is a good sign. The baby had a boost in her growth and development and my EDD jumped up to 9th January 2012.

My next visit to the doc as well as the USG wasn't until December first week. I used this time to gorge upon wonderful Pune food and mom made stuff. I did not mind getting fat, which I wasn't. People would comment on how small my bump is considering that I was already in my 8th month. I could easily pass off as non-pregnant if I wore a fairly loose fitting tee.

This month, I had to undergo the Indirect Coombs Test when I mentioned about the conflicting Rh factors. Thankfully, the results were not scary.

The 9th month was a twister. There were so many sudden changes in me. All those easy earlier months were now a fantasy.

This trip to ultrasound said that my baby had two loops of umbilical cord around the neck. It also stated that the baby is in an oblique position. Thirdly, the baby's head was bigger than what they usually encounter, which could make natural birth difficult for me, given the small size of my pelvis. But my EDD has jumped again to 5th January 2012.

As soon as I saw my gyn knit her eyebrows, I knew she had some bad news. She did say that we had a whole month to go and sometimes babies tumble and free themselves of the cord. However, she still reminded me about the baby's head and my relatively small pelvis frame. Here she hinted at a possibility of C-section delivery, which I wasn't too happy to hear.

Henceforth, I was supposed to see her on weekly basis.

The next week's appointment was a disaster. My weight had not increased and I was shouted at. I have no clue how that happened, since I was merrily gulping away anything in sight, even at the dead of the night. The baby was still oblique, and I was sent off for another ultrasound. This time the results revealed that the loops were tighter around the baby's neck and I was constricted to bed rest for the remaining of my pregnant days. I was advised to get out of the bed only for bathroom visits, so strict was it! That was such a bad news for me since my best friend's wedding reception was round the corner and I could never have missed it for anything. Not when I was in the same town.

Babies kick harder and more frequently soon after you've had something to eat. This particular night, mine was silent. Usually she'd wreck a havoc in there. I assumed she was sleeping. The next morning when I had my breakfast, again there were no kicks or motion. I still gave it some time.(Kiran was getting ready to go for his office picnic that day). When there was still no hearing from the baby after half an hour, I started to panic and called my gyn at 7 AM. She asked me to give it some time, eat some more and if I still don't feel the baby moving, I should see her. I realised that there were no baby kicks even when I was up for my midnight snack.

None of that seemed to work. Kiran cancelled his picnic plans and we raced to the hospital. He was panic stricken. Although my mother was trying to bring calm to both of us, I could see that she was distraught too.

As soon as we reached there, the doc checked for baby's heart beat. At first, all they got was my heart beats, and baby's were no where to be found. The doc ordered for another machine to be brought instantly. Still none.

Then she held my bump and gave it a firm shake. She started pushing from the four corners vigorously and I felt that familiar kick. I almost shouted "Doc, the baby kicked!" I had tears in my eyes when the kicking began all over again. I didn't mind the knock on my sides nor the thump in my ribs.

She said that the baby probably was having a long siesta and if I were to experience that again, I should rush to her immediately.

Even though I was on complete bed rest, I had to suffer aches and pains every now and the. I had sciatic nerve ache in my left side, which would shoot down my left leg. And since the baby was oblique (head resting on my right side) I had nerve pain in my right leg too. Night times were difficult, as I was not supposed to sleep on my back and I couldn't sleep on my left or the right because of the nerve pinches.

It was tough to get through the day. How much can one lie down? Not to mention the scary night times. By now, the doctor had convinced me that I had 90% chances of getting a C-section delivery. I was told that if my water broke, or if I felt any contractions, I was to head to the hospital for an emergency C-section.

I was at the end of my 9th month, when I had a last ultrasound - colour doppler test, which determines the blood flow to the fetus. There was now one loop around the baby's neck and she was still oblique. Thanks to my bed rest, she had not descended into the pelvic cavity. My EDD jumped yet again to 2nd January 2012.

This gyn visit confirmed the C section and she asked me to give her a date anytime after the 28th December, because I'd have then completed 9 months. I wanted my baby born in the new year and hence I said 1st January would be it. Since 1st fell on a Sunday, she said I might be operated post noon. Staying empty stomach till noon is not my cup of tea, and hence I shifted the date to the 2nd, early morning.

*P.S. I was able to attend my best friend's reception. I got an ok from the gyn to scurry away for a few hours.
... to be continued

Pregnancy - The Middle ground

2013-01-24T14:44:00.001-06:00

Previously written Pregnancy - Finding out

After having gone through the mad hormonal days, I expected normal days where I wouldn't be so fragile - emotionally as well as physically. What I did not see coming was a huge blow by the jet lag. When I'd previously flown from India to US, I'd gotten used to the time change within 2-3 days. However, this time around, we used to be wide awake at night and sleep through the day. Kiran was supposed to resume his office here in 7 days, which meant he did not necessarily have to battle out the lag. We would scurry into the kitchen and find something for us to eat at 2 AM. However discreet we were, my mother in law was always up. She was kind enough to fix us something to eat at that hour. The rest of the night would be spent watching NatGeo channel. We would drift off to sleep at 7 AM, wake up briefly for lunch, gulp down everything sleepily and then hit the sack again.

I had a very bad time with my jet lag which lasted a whole month long.

We scheduled an appointment with a gyn there who suggested that I get an USG done as I had flown quite a distance. This time at the ultrasound, we saw our baby. A miniature human figure, moving its hands, legs and tiny head. This week we were to have the Nuchal Test to test for any abnormalities. The doc who was performing the USG was quiet for some time. Then he began clicking his tongue, then he said something to his helper in Kannada which I obviously did not understand. I began to worry if anything was wrong with the baby. Even after asking him 2-3 times he did not say anything.

Finally when I pressed him, he said, he is waiting for the baby to change position so that he could get a good view of her nape! I breathed a sigh of relief when I understood the cause for his worry lines.

My second trimester was a happy place. My wonderful in-laws were taking good care of me. I got to enjoy the feasts and festivals of our native place which I had always missed due to one reason or the other. The baby and my weight was growing as was necessary. I also got a chance to live with my aunt (who is close by) for a few days.

On the down side, I was missing Kiran a lot. To add to it, our timing to call each other was always wrong. Either that or we didn't have enough privacy for a nice cozy chat. We had a few mis-communication problems, of which arose some misunderstandings and fights. Those were some trying days. *It is not a good idea to stay apart during pregnancy.*

In a few days, my in laws started discussing about having my baby shower. I was least interested in the beginning. But when I heard that Kiran could come earlier than expected and be there for my function, I was on cloud nine.

... will be continued tomorrow

Pregnancy - The finding out

2013-01-23T19:31:00.000-06:00

Disclaimer:

Like Namratha says, this is not for the faint hearted. Or even those who are not yet ready to be mothers - especially mentally.

This post doesn't mean to scare anyone off pregnancy or child birth. I just hope this helps and provides directions to those who might feel a bit overwhelmed or lost in the whole process.

In no way is this post, and the series of them following soon after, are meant to serve as prescription for your pregnancy related symptoms/ problems. I might include some techniques or solutions that worked for me. It doesn't mean they will help you.

Each and every thing that I have mentioned here is what I went through. It may not be up to the pregnancy-industry standard, but this exactly what happened to me.

I have mentioned bits and pieces of my pregnancy every now and then in this blog. So you may find somethings repetitive.

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The point where a pregnancy begins is a euphoric one. It was for me when I could so much as gather my thoughts and let the feeling sink in that I am now going to be a mother.

When two blue lines confirmed my pregnancy, that was all I had to remind myself that I was not one now. I had no other symptoms other than a missed period. I wasn't feeling nauseated, I wasn't puking at the sight of food, nor did I see any significant change in my weight. These are the basic things you hear of a pregnant woman. I was elated at how easy my pregnancy would turn out to be with no signs.

I must say at this point that I had a lot of misconceptions and myths about pregnancy and a pregnant All of which were busted.

As soon as I got the positive test result, we decided to go for a gynecologist visit, which is scheduled when one is 9 weeks pregnant. Accordingly, an appointment was scheduled that included an ultrasound too.

After we filled a form that seemed endlessly listing histories of any genetic disease or mutations and allergies and sundry, I was sent for the USG. I had googled up on the images of a 9 weeks old fetus. I was expecting to see a small form of a human body. The USG technician squinted at the screen and said, "You are no more than 6 weeks pregnant. There is nothing to see. Your baby is smaller than a grain of rice" I was shocked, for according to my calculations, I should have been 9 weeks already.

When we saw the doctor, and she heard my case, she said it might be due to delayed ovulation, which is pretty common and nothing to be worried about. Hence, my Estimated Due Date (EDD) which was initially January 5th, 2012, was pushed to January 17th, 2012.

Then after that we again discussed if we had any health issues or any other concerns. I did have some. My blood group is Rh negative and Kiran's is Rh positive. Now, I was told earlier by my sis-in-law that a positive-negative combination could be something that needs to be looked into. It was indeed the case. The doctor said that in some cases, the mother's blood can mix with that of the fetus', and having two different Rh factors could cause a problem. I was advised to call the doctor immediately if I bled anytime during the pregnancy. Having that in mind, every time that I would go to the bathroom, I had chills.

The gynec then inquired if I had any morning sickness. When I answered in negative, she congratulated me saying I may be one of the few ones who sail through the 9 months. We came out of the doctors office with smiling faces.

Soon after that, we were to attend a send off party for one of our close friends who were leaving for India. It was a potluck dinner and we had offered to bring in some chicken curry. That day, since morning, I'd been feeling queasy. Thus, Kiran took the responsibility of preparing the dish. It was around 6 PM when he was done with the cooking. He asked me how it smelt. And I said "It is yuck!" Literally. Kiran felt offended and I was not sure why because I was telling the absolute truth.

By now, I was also feeling a bit feverish. And I wanted that offensive stench out of my house. I could sense something had gone wrong in me. I wanted Kiran to skip the dinner and stay with me. However, the dinner couldn't be missed as they were one of our close friends.

When he stepped out, I started feeling anxious for no reason. I am pretty used to being home alone. This time, however, I was ill at ease. Not knowing how to deal with this funny feeling, I called up my mother who was in Singapore at that time to be with N, my sister in law, who was expecting her second child. The moment I heard her voice, my tears started to flow. As much as I wanted to stay strong and not cry, I found myself blubbering on the phone saying "Something is happening to me. I don't know what and no one is here with me." Hearing me collapse in such a way, my mother got emotional for not being here with me. N took over and told me in firm voice that all this is bound to happen and that I have to get myself together, walk over to the fridge and pour myself some cold orange juice. She heard me out, empathized and scolded a bit. That seemed to bring back some courage in me. Only, I hardly knew that was just a mark of a beginning of a whole new innings of suffering.

From that day on, I started feeling tired. From the moment I woke up to the time I went to bed, I was tired. It began with that consistent pain in the whole body that you experience when you have flu. As the days progressed, that exhaustion just grew and grew and grew to the extent that I couldn't get out of my bed. I lay in my bed the whole day, not eating, not showering, because I had no strength nor the courage to pull myself up on my feet for any activity. I could barely even gather enough energy to speak to my mom. I lied about the net and our phone lines being down, just to avoid confrontation with her. I did not want to worry her further.

The days I did find my feet walking toward the kitchen to fix some lunch, they retracted at the myriad combination of smells around the house. My nose could sense every damn smell all the same time - the incense stick, the deo, the curry, the garbage!

I was surviving on a cup of milk, almonds and banana. I couldn't tolerate anything else.

Every evening, correctly at 5 PM, I would start to feel uncomfortable in my stomach. That feeling would last throughout the evening. Each day Kiran came home to a pitiful me. Seeing him, I would burst into tears. I used to feel relieved that at least he was there for me. Call it my lack of senses to be thankful to him for all his help; all my tantrums were thrown at him. He had no clue either on how to manage me. He would cook for me. He took care of me like a mother would. But none of those efforts seemed enough to put my miseries away.

The discomfort kept getting worse till the point that I would have a strong urge to throw up. I would retch and retch but since I'd had nothing to eat throughout the day, I couldn't even puke! Again, my husband would be there with me, every step of the way - patting me in the back, soothing me, getting cold water for me to feel better.

It is said that for some women these symptoms last for all the nine months. It was already a month and a half of suffering with no signs of mellowing down. It was getting more and more difficult for us to cope with my hormonal changes. Moreover, there were few other reasons why we couldn't stay here. Initially we'd decided to go back home in August. However, given the current state of my health, we had to reschedule our journey to July.

I was terrified at the idea of having to live without Kiran for six months. I was looking forward to a pregnancy which would be equally participated by my husband. I wanted him to be there with me to USG and see our baby take shape. He promised me that he would definitely be by my side when I was nearing my due date.

Our tickets were booked within a few days. By now, I had started to feel better. All those overwhelming waves of nausea and tiredness started to wear off as the days went by. I was completely alright by the time we boarded our flight to India.

... will be continued tomorrow.

We, the non-sharers

2013-01-22T16:13:00.001-06:00

Disclaimer : A post meant for women, but you may read too

How many of us like to share? I don't mean a meal, or clothes and shoes. I certainly do not mean FB sharing. How many of us share our stories? By stories I mean those ones which we may not necessarily be proud of. It may be a small incident, like being shouted at by a superior at the office, or it could be a life-shattering one, like being a victim of sexual harassment and all those remaining ones that lie in between. We believe in zipping our mouths and going about our daily lives as if nothing ever has gone awry.

The problem with non-sharing is that we never realize if we have been right or wrong. We assume and accept that the fault lies within us; while showing the world that we are perfect, strong women with no dents whatsoever. Why do we consider opening up as a shameful act? Why does it feel so negative?

To take off the ambiguity of this post, let me say that I went through a lot of revelations during and after my pregnancy. They changed a little bit in me for good; for now I believe that speaking up and sharing not only eases your mind but also helps another person who is in dire need for directions.

The whole mother hood thing is a lot more than it looks. It causes permanent changes in the physical and emotional you. To cope with those changes, a woman needs a lot more comforting and boosts of confidence.

I had some tough times while going through all this. And I believed in shutting up too. I did not want to look like a loser mom when everyone else was battling it out so fiercely. And then came along a blog post from a fellow mommy that seemed to open up the Pandora's box of mommy emotions. And that is how the emails and chats of mommydom all began with my friends.

Over the course of next few days, I have decided to share my story of pregnancy and child birth. Stick to me if you are interested.

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And so I begin my first mini-a-thon of the year. This one is a theme based one "Pregnancy & Child birth".

My Circle of Mommy Friends

2013-01-18T18:31:00.001-06:00

Being a mommy to a kid is perhaps not as difficult as holding up your image as one to the world. There is so much pressure and breaking down is seriously not an option. Even though women have been there and done that, when it comes to being a third person and watching others take up the mothering duty, they get a lot judgmental... a lot more critical and always have something wrong to pick with the way you do something (to/with/for the kid).

As this is the case, we, the newly blessed mothers, have no one but our friends who are sailing in the same boat to pour our hearts to. Earlier I was skeptical and uncomfortable sharing my mommy-woe stories. But as and how my friends decided to come out of the closet and open their minds and share stories, I knew I was not the only one. And to say that it is therapeutic is the least.

It first began with timid and shy questions and when we realised that all of us are battling similar situations, we decided to stick with our routine. I have friends with whom I exchange emails, have night chats (during the night feeds for them or me), write blogs, call up and skype with. We talk, bitch, rant, laugh at our miseries, exchange information etc. The best part is no one gets judged. You can complain all you want to, and nothing changes. Nothing is right or wrong. It's just you and your mommy woes.

We may not really be complaining. We love our babies. We really do. Trust us. But there comes a time when we get tired of one way communication; we want to talk about other things than sterilizing bottles and changing diapers, we crave for some adult conversation that does not necessarily involve or revolve around our kids. It's not about getting fed up of our kid, or that we hate our full time mommydom, it's just a need for a breather. It refreshes and rejuvenates in so many ways that we look forward to going back to being a mommy to our kids.

Sacrifice? Yes, that is the word. But for some reason when you are past your kids childhood, everything that the younger mommies do is viewed wrong and "not sacrificial enough". It is crass to even think of enjoying at a cinema, let alone actually going there. If you feel like pursuing your hobby, you are likely to be asked "Oh and where is your poor kid gonna be?". If you think it is too warm for a sweater today, you will be berated for not thinking of your kid's well being. No matter what you do it will never be a good match for what they did. Well, a modest reminder that we sacrifice too. Maybe not the same things or in the same manner, but we let go of many things that we liked to do.

All in all, I love my circle of mommies who are all into it. We love being what we are and we also like to complain about myriad stages of mommydom. But in the end, we hope to turn out good mommies to kids. Face it, for our kids to have sane mommies, we have to let out some steam.

Taste Of Peru

2013-01-17T15:47:00.000-06:00

I am a big fan of shows where there are road trips, food and guys involved. Particularly that show where there is this Guy involved. If you do not know already, Diners, Drive-Ins' and Dives is a very popular show on the Food Network where Guy Fieri takes a road trip all through the 50 states of America in search for some authentic, mouth watering, lip smacking food; much like our Highway On My Plate.

Every time this show is aired, I am praying for Chicago to be in his list. My prayers were answered the day I saw

We decided to check that place out as soon as possible. Hence, we seized the opportunity when V had come over.

Taste of Peru is a quaint little cozy place. One may not easily notice this place when in the neighbourhood. It is nothing fancy or glittery. I loved that the whole set up makes you feel instantly warm and at home. It is a small place but with lots of picture collection of Peru and the owner's family and friends. You know at once that the owner prides in his roots and family. That is what appealed to me the most.

The food was incredible and nothing that I have tasted so far.

We wanted to taste exactly what Guy had had and so we ordered the "Guy Fieri's Combo". That included

Tamales

Anticuchos de Carne O Pollo

Lomo Saltado

The combo also included a drink called Inka Kola, which was a canned drink much like our pineapple sherbat. And so was included a desert, Arroz Con Leche. Sorry for no snaps, but we were too shot after that heavy dinner and my kid has started to fuss a bit. Nevertheless, the desert complemented our dinner. It wasn't too sweet or too overpowering to ruin our taste buds.

Sudado de Camerones

I ordered this one, which was not a part of the combo. It was tangy shrimp curry served with rice.

You can see the Inka Kola poured in my glass there, right?

Here is a snap of a wall full of photos that I absolutely loved and the owner standing right in the middle. There is also a map of Peru. :)

You can see a lot of nick-knacks in this snap. Another element that I am a fan of.

Another thing that I should mention here, is that the owner is very interactive. He welcomed us in, shook hands, chatted for good 5 minutes. I mean how many owners get to do that with their customers? He even called Aarnavi "Khoobsurat". Can you imagine how much this person is involved into his business and making everyone feel great? Neither did he let us go without a word. He wished each one of us a Happy New Year. Why wouldn't I wanna go there again?

It is a BYOB establishment. (BYOB = Bring Your Own Booze) If you are looking for a nice, romantic, quiet experience, seek elsewhere because here you'll find families and friends having a nice time, being loud, boisterous and cheeky. It's a lively place where you'll enjoy the experience.

... and here is my happy little one on being called "Khoobsurat"!

First Post of the Year

2013-01-07T15:12:00.000-06:00

Happy New Year to all! May this year bring peace, love and warmth of family and friends to us!

I have a good news right at the beginning of the year. My baby turned a year old! :D Isn't that fabulous? We had a nice little birthday party for her... complete with family and very close to heart friends. It was fun and heartening to have good people come and join us in this happy occasion. :)

Although I have wished I could and would update my blog frequently, I have not done so. I am very bad at keeping promises made to self. I hardly feel bad about dishonouring myself. I know I sound like a stuck record, harping on forever about how I do not do anything about not being regular here. Hence, I found myself some solution. Instead of doing a whole month long blog marathon, I will do many mini-a-thons. That means, I will commit to write a certain number of posts for a certain number of days and stick to it. Does it sound like a plan?

I may start as early as this month! :) How happy am I making this announcement! :)

Look out! This page is soon gonna be updated!

December!

2012-12-04T16:17:00.000-06:00

I have always loved the month of December. The merriment of Christmas mixed in with the chilly Pune air is, for me, a feel good factor. In years that went by, many happy moments (and thus, memories now) are associated with this month. Isn't it great to end a year with some happiness?

One of my most happiest moments lie in December. I would perhaps rate this day on a higher rank than my wedding day. Wedding is just a celebration to stamp the decision that we make. Making a decision to commit your life to one person for better or for worse is another league totally. This is where a person is right or wrong. I am glad I took a wise decision and hitch-hiked on this road called marriage to the person I loved and still do.

Well, in case you are wondering, there were no celebrations, nothing hunky dory. Guess what? The husband had even forgotten about it. When I reminded, he says "Oh yeah, isn't it?" But I am not mad at him. He remembers to change diapers, I never have to remind him to refill baby formula and doesn't forget Aa's doctor appointment. I cannot be mad at him for something so frugal when I can see the efforts he's putting into being a wonderful, perfect daddy.

I swear, it has got nothing to do with the amazing gifts he showered on me for Thanksgiving. Take a look.

:) Got an amazing deal for the Notebook and the Galaxy Tab together, and the camera too came in with a case and 8 GB card. I have been craving for an DSLR since a long time, but looking at it from the price point, I found it too expensive. KK wasn't all too in love with any DSLR, because camera for him is a camera, what more could you get? But he took a look at one of our snap clicked at a friend's house in a dark setting and he was sold to my idea. The pic was bright, colourful and looked like it was a pro shot. Hence the camera was included into this year's buying list.

The Samsung Notebook is gorgeous. I did not want anything fancy. As long I can check my emails and Facebook and blog, I am good to go. I love it!

The Tab however is for KK. And he is in love with it. In his own words "It's like being newly wed!" :)

That said, every year I have something to look forward to in this last month. This year, V is gonna be visiting us and I am super excited! His visit although a short one is gonna be fun... I know it. :)

December for me is not just stock take of the year's events and making new resolutions. It is when I feel warm and special from within, no matter how chilly it is on the outside. Cozing up to my near and dear ones, knowing that they'll be there for me, feeling safe, secure and loved, is what I look forward to. If the whole year is "exercising" then December is my "meditation". :)

Peeping Up From The Mundane

2012-11-27T17:12:00.000-06:00

"I was busy." seems like a valid reason to many questions regarding one's whereabouts, online or even in the real world. I, for one, have always believed that it is just an excuse for not doing something.

Like now, in my current situation, where I have immersed neck deep in motherhood, I still think being busy is just a term/ an excuse to not do something. And for me, it's totally got to do with my laziness. I wished a 1000 times that I would blog, or read a book or do something craftsy, or walk the treadmill. Alas, I have just kept wishing.

This brings me to a whole lot of things that I have just let go and not shared on my space here.

Thanksgiving is just over and we had some wonderful family time. It's always been the three of us here and over this holiday, we bonded and shared fun times. I realize that to make you feel good, special and happy, you don't need many friends or too many people... one right person, and you are settled for life. And this year, although with the tight budget, we bought a few things... splurged a little to make ourselves happy. Will blog about it soon.

I get feedback from readers, not just the comments, but elsewhere, saying that they read my blog. Some say they read because I make them laugh, some say they relate to it very well, some say they look forward to my next blog post and often want to know when I will be doing so. I am so touched and humbled to get such beautiful views over my blog. No doubt, I love it when I am writing, but the feedback heightens the excitement.

Also a lot of you have mentioned that it is difficult to comment on the blog and that you have not been able to do it. I truly do not know how fix that thing... so sorry for that snag. Hope it will resolve in the near future.

I am very much looking forward to the December month. Guess what it brings? Snow, memories and this year, as my god sent Christmas gift, V is gonna come visiting. Life couldn't get any better when you look forward to amazing. I know I am in for some awesome fun time.

And time flies fast don't you think? Aa is already almost 11 months old and I cannot believe it. I have been given the entire responsibility to put together her birthday. I am pleased as a pie! There was a time when I used to have my birthdays celebrated and here I am planning for my daughter's. I feel ~~older~~ wiser. ;)

Well, that's all much I can think of at this moment to update. More posts will be seen soon. :) Promise.

Freeing From Clutter

2012-10-30T20:57:00.001-05:00

As childish as it may seem, crying helps a lot! It eases the mind like anything. In fact, I realize that venting helps to start afresh. A few days ago, I found my mind cluttered with all kinds of things - hurtful comments, bad fights, wrong accusations. These things have a way of creeping into your mind and growing like a crazy weed. I was thinking in a loop . These thoughts just wouldn't go away. They played and replayed till it hurt me anew. And there was no one at the moment to hear me out. Nor was I sure if I wanted to let someone else see these personal ghosts.

I got a book and a pen and I wrote and wrote till my hand ached. The words just came out. It was like taking dictations from somebody. I did not pause for even a second to collect my thoughts. I was so brimming with these emotions that they came oozing out. I had filled up six sides and when my hand stopped receiving signals naturally, all my worries were on the paper.

When I re read them, I was amazed at how much I was holding back. The pain, the hurt, the stress slipped away and I was feeling lighter. I haven't looked back at that writing again.

Some say scribbling hard helps, some say destroying something helps, and some more say screaming helps. Dealing with it in this manner, transforms your discomfort into something tangible. They just give you a temporary outlet to your current emotions; they do not free you from them. To truly cleanse your mind, that bad stuff needs to be out of your system, transferred onto/ into something that goes away. Cry it out. Let the steam out. Let your worries dissolve in tears or words and see them off.

Try it. It might succeed in taking some miseries off your life.

Day 31 :: Living Today

2012-08-31T23:18:00.001-05:00

My teacher once said " We never live in our present. We live either in our past or we worry about the future."

How true is that statement!

Just a while ago, I was feeling despondent that my life at mom's place is over. I was reminiscing my carefree life then. My mom allowed me to sleep till late in the morning. I totally miss that perk now. In fact, I need it badly. Those ready made cool coffee, hot breakfast and endless talks with mom - I miss them.

Just then a thought passed my mind, what if I'd I had never married? then probably I'd be dreaming about a married life and a family. And that's what I have now.

I may be close to thirty but I still crave for my parents. I have learnt to walk but I do look back once in a while to see my folks are still there to hold me if I fall.

Am I selfish? Because I despite my vulnerabilities, I do not want to go back to my old life. It is pretty paradoxical there.

So there, I am ruminating about the past. In all this time travelling, I ignored the fact that i spent a wonderful day today. Now I think about it!!!

Hoping to learn and live for today.

P.S. Blogathon's done for the year. :) :( will take some time off from the blog for now. I am not disappearing. Will be just round the block. See ya soon. ;)

Day 30 :: Reason for feeling alive and tired

2012-08-30T23:40:00.000-05:00

Today was one of the days when you truly feel alive. Well nothing out of the ordinary. It was just a normal routine day, just that Aa is getting active by the day and naughty may I add?!

Now since she is used to me for the majority of the day, she screams even if I enter the kitchen to pour myself some coffee. She plays silently if I am sitting there, right next to her. If not, the banshee sounds. As a solution, I ask my mom to be online and video chat for the whole morning (which is comfortably after dinner time for her).

Aa's started to crawl and I don't blame her for wanting to explore every nook and cranny. From the day she started rolling over, I have been dreaming of seeing her crawl. And to whoever I mentioned this dream of mine would say "Just watch your words."

I feel like eating my words! It is wonderful to see her mobile but when I have to cook and clean and sundry, it makes me tear my hair. She loves the wires, chargers, cable, telephone, anything.

So today was one such day. Each time I moved away from her, she lunged towards the laptop or the cell phone or the wires or the sliding table and I had to come running to pick her and relocate the girl, only to repeat the procedure again. And again. And again. It really got to me today! Mommy was having a time of her life looking at her daughter's daughter trouble her daughter as such.

I take it back if it sounded like a complaint. I am so looking forward to another day, where Aa makes me run and turns me mad.

That's the thing about kiddos. No matter what, you fall in love with them.

P.S. Been long since I posted some good pictures of my darling. Will do it soon. ;)

Day 29 :: I'm almost there

2012-08-29T23:42:00.001-05:00

It's almost time to wrap up my Blogathon of this year. I don't want my last post to be concluding one, so this one just jumps in now.

Doing the Blogathon was a biiig decision. But I still wanted to go ahead with it. It was a self imposed challenge. It seems very easy and doable at first, and I fairly had an idea of most if the posts that I wanted to include. However, what I blindly assumed was that I'll have plenty of time to sit in peace and at ease as before. I took for granted that nothing could go wrong.

The main obstacle in this whole event was that my lappy's screen's gone kaput. Now connecting the unit to the tv and enabling wireless keyboard and mouse was not such a great task as was trying to keep Aa away from the whole set up.

We hence decided that I would do the posts while KK took Aa out for a walk. Now, I have married a Software Engineer; it is unethical that I even presume that my baby will be taken out everyday.

Since that was not happening, I had to blog when Aa retired for the day. This usually happens with her on my lap, just like right now. Thank god for Apple products!

I am not as satisfied with my Blogathon this year as I was with the previous one. I like to take my time thinking and writing and rewriting my stuff until I am satisfied with it. This time it wasn't so. I had to try and get it in first shot, which I don't think I have succeeded each time. :(

I haven't been able to reply to the comments lately. I shall hopefully do it soon. I do not like ignoring any comment.

KK has been very very supportive and I couldn't have thought of doing this without him. Frankly, once my parents went, I had cold feet. I wanted to back off and say a timid bye to my commitment. That obviously didn't happen, all thanks to the husband.

I am happy that I am seeing the end of this month long journey. It was a pleasure and pain too! :) But that doesn't mean I am not doing one next year. I most certainly am willing to.

See you tomorrow. Two more to go!

Day 28 :: Throwing Out the "In-laws"

2012-08-28T23:29:00.000-05:00

Scandalous, I know! ;)

Relations become complicated when "in-laws" follow the words mother, father, brother or sister. Often they are considered secondary, for all the natural reasons. Blood is thicker than water. A daughter in law can never replace a daughter, or a father in law can never hold the same place in your heart as your father.

That said, it is not impossible to bring the ties any closer. Most marriageable girls are vary of their in-laws. So was I. Getting married and going to another household was such an imaginable nightmare for me!

In our society, everyone expects the girl tomake most of the adjustments and compromises. No one bothers to think that the girl requires some time to get out of the mental shock of being married and catapulted into a sea of new people. All a girl needs at such times is a lot of understanding and loving words to convey that she is in good hands.

When I met my in laws for the first time, for all the understandable reasons, I was a nervous wreck. The almost engagement ceremony came to an end and we went to see them off, when my (then) would be father in law says "Dear, do come to visit us,. You are always welcome there."

When we did go after a few days, I was feeling odd sitting in their house. Again my father in law, sensing my discomfort says, "Go ahead dear. See your home. It's all yours now."

That instant I felt the ice melt in me. There was this warmth of being accepted. But still there was this spike in mind, I was not yet married. People are known to be extra kind before marriage and the scene changes drastically afterwards. Yes, I am a suspicious woman that way.

Not so soon after, I was to live with my in laws in my pregnant days. That was the time I got to bond with them closely that too without KK in the vicinity. The day KK went back to the US, mother in law said "Please don't hesitate to ask me for anything. If you feel like eating anything or if you need anything, ask freely. Think of me as your mother." I was already in tears but this statement teared me up freshly.

Since then there was no looking back. I found them easy to talk to. I have shared jokes with my father in law like I never thought I could. I found a younger sister in my sister in law who chose me to unburden all her worries. She was fun and mostly proved to be a cusion in the initial days of my stay there. And my mother in law, although is soft spoken and seems naive can make me a victim of a real naughty comment when least expected.

I cannot think of replacing them with my own parents or my sibling but they hold equal importance, love and respect in my heart.

Me, I couldn't possibly think of throwing out the "in laws" part in these relations, But I have certainly come close.