Falling
Even at seven months, I hadn’t quite been able to believe in this pregnancy. I don’t know how it is for other women, but for me it was never quite true, never really happening – and that was my way of protecting myself against another miscarriage.
Oh, I did all the things that one was supposed to do – starting with making sure that I was indeed pregnant, and hadn’t just missed a day or two of my period. I bought a dozen home-testing kits, checked without fail every morning, from days before my period was due to several days after. I even kept the little white plastic discs through the day, scanning them irrationally to see if a second line had suddenly appeared on any of them even though the kit advised waiting only five minutes.
And then, when the second line did appear, faint and almost-not-there, I didn’t miss it. I didn’t try to tell myself that it wasn’t there. I noted it, picked up the phone to call my husband, and then looked up the gynaecologist’s telephone number in the book.
And yet. And yet.
Somewhere inside me, I was asking: is that second line really there? I couldn’t be sure.
I showed the testing disc to my husband that evening. Sure, it’s clearly there, he said.
I didn’t believe him, of course.
As I didn’t believe the clinic when the blood and urine tests came back positive, when they opened a new file for me, and when I was given a little folder with a list of Dos and Don’ts for the first three months.
Three months? I was sure I would never make it that far.
I took my folic acid and multivitamins, ate almonds and apples, and drank milk. Okay, I didn’t drink milk – but I ate dahi and drank buttermilk. I lay in bed and rested and read novels. I listened to music. I even listened to a Garbh Sanskar CD that someone passed on to my mother for me. Okay, I listened once.
And I played with my beautiful Baby No 1, watching him stand up, then cruise holding on to furniture, and then start taking his first shaky steps on his own, his little arms flapping like a bird and stomach stuck out – and I thought, this is beautiful. This is it. This is all the baby I need. Even if…
That was the problem. The “Even if…” It had stayed with me all along, through all the doctor’s appointments, the ultrasounds, the blood tests, the triples, and the 3-D scans. Oh, even through the amniocentesis. And I looked at the ultrasound after the amnio which showed the baby moving around freely – and I wondered how it could be true.
Everything’s just great, the doctor would say cheerfully, every single time – and I wouldn’t believe him. Can you hear the heartbeat, they would say – and those horses would gallop, gallop, gallop – and I would nod, yes, and smile.
And I wouldn’t believe any of it.
It wasn’t that I was totally crazy. I wasn’t trying to be ghoulish. Part of me was listening very carefully. Part of me was noting down questions I needed to ask at my next appointment with the gynaecologist. Picking up the cord-blood banking brochure for later use. Pulling myself through the nausea, wincing at the pelvic discomfort, elevating my feet to reduce the oedema. Reducing salt intake, then giving it up altogether.
Part of me was thrilling to every butterfly movement, every kick, every rustle in there. Part of me was patting my belly and running my hands over it and telling the little baby in there that I loved it. Part of me was saying that it was possible to have it all - the adopted child, the biological child, the career, the animals, the full and fulfilling life.
And part of me was preparing Baby No 1 for the arrival of his little sibling. “When Small Baby arrives,” I would croon to him a couple of times a week. When Small Baby arrived, we would all go down to the garden together every day. When Small Baby arrived, we would show it the flowers and the butterflies. When Small Baby arrived…
But the other part of me was watchful, guarding against another miscarriage, another project that would end in a bloody mess, painful cramps, a cold emptiness, and a shortlist of names that would never be used by us for another baby. I didn’t want to go through that again; and I didn’t want my first baby, the one who was already here and who had never seen unhappiness, to see any of the mess. And so I decided that it wasn’t true, any of it.
Until the day I fell.
It was the silliest thing. A lift door, a freshly mopped floor, me rushing to get to the car - wearing the slippery new shoes that I had bought because of the oedema. It was inevitable. I fell. Luckily I fell on my back and my elbow – ouch – and I don’t remember much after that, but I somehow seem to have collected myself and made my way back to our apartment. I stumbled into the house, got into bed and called up the doctor. He sounded non-committal. I would have to go around to the clinic for a scan. The earliest they could do the ultrasound was noon.
I waited. And waited and waited and…there was no movement inside. Everything was hushed and still. I cuddled Baby no 1 and waited. I waited until I didn’t think I could wait any longer.
Then I remembered something. I asked for a glass of cold water. Didn’t Baby No 2 usually do a little jig whenever I drank cold water?
I drank the water. A moment, two, three… and then? Suddenly – the barest whisper of a movement. And another one. And a kick. And another, until Baby No 2 was doing a little breakdance in there…
I breathed again. And cuddled Baby No 1 tighter.
I was pregnant, after all. When Small Baby comes, I whispered to Baby No 1…
And when they did the ultrasound that day, and I heard the heartbeat, I listened to what Baby No 2 was telling me.
Days of rest followed, and more tests, and another scan, but I already knew, deep down inside. I was pregnant, and it was okay to believe in it.
This is the first narrative of pregnancy by an Indian mother I have read. And I am glad to have done so.
Comment by Candadai Tirumalai — November 29, 2007 @ 1:51 am
Thanks, Candadai. Your comment had been deleted by mistake. It has now been restored.
Comment by Uma — November 29, 2007 @ 1:53 am
Uma, this describes exactly the first three months of my pregnancy with Little N. We did not tell any one about it and I was walking on egg shells throughout, watching for the first sign of system failure, convinced it would happen any second. It was just amazing how differently I dealt with the days leading upto the first miscarriage. Then, because we had already had Big N, I was convinced that I was not miscarrying even in the face of undeniable evidence. After the miscarriage, it was totally the opposite for the following pregnancy.
I’m just glad you are OK. Those few hours between your fall and the ultrasound must have been harrowing. Hugs.
Comment by Sujatha — November 29, 2007 @ 2:14 am
Not just our bodies - our hearts too have such an amazing self-defense mechanism. So happy to see you and baby #2 doing great!
I am about 4 months pregnant for the first time, and I can’t believe it is for real.
Comment by Sneha — November 29, 2007 @ 5:08 am
Hi Uma, my heart was pounding heavily as I was reading your post and without me realising I was saying to myself “ah… the baby should be fine, the baby should be fine…” and what relief I got when I read that the baby is indeed fine. All the very best Ms.Uma and the little one as well! :)
Comment by Ravi — November 29, 2007 @ 1:49 pm
So glad that the baby kicked when you drank the cold water! Sigh of relief. All the best to you and your family (including the animals). How is your mother?
Comment by mumbaigirl — November 29, 2007 @ 4:00 pm
Suj: harrowing is right… strange how the mind decides to deal with stuff..check your email tomorow btw.
Sneha: Thanks, and what lovely news! Good luck!
Ravi: Thanks, it’s good so far…
MG: Thank you! Whisky’s surgery went very well, & Desh is fine now - and he’s become a complete handful! My mother’s chemo is stiff, but she’s dealing with it…
Comment by Uma — November 29, 2007 @ 4:15 pm
This is such a lovely account of what you must have been through. I do feel your pain, but as I read this, some part of my mind was also thinking this was beautiful writing. Good luck! I am sure it will all turn out well.
Comment by Lekhni — November 29, 2007 @ 4:38 pm
I agree with Ravi. My heartbeat went up as I kept reading your post. I could relate to the feelings. My wife is 3 months pregnant now and we have undergone some of these emotions. So, I could relate well. Best of luck.
Comment by Krish — November 30, 2007 @ 8:51 pm
When I read the words “I fell”, my heartbeat went up. I am so glad you and Baby 2 are doing good.
Comment by Emma — December 3, 2007 @ 11:59 am
Thank you, Lekhni, Krish, Emma…
Comment by Uma — December 3, 2007 @ 2:27 pm
Congratulations :) All my love to you and your family.
Comment by Sharanya — December 4, 2007 @ 8:01 am
Thanks Sharanya. Nice to see you here - are you in India now?
Comment by Uma — December 4, 2007 @ 1:03 pm
We are rooting for you!
(And yay for that glass of thanda paani!)
Comment by Amitava Kumar — December 5, 2007 @ 3:36 am
Came by after so long. Am so happy with the good news. A few months ago, I had a bleeding cyst in my womb and didnt know that I was pregnant. I lost that baby and so know all about the interminable fear that accompanies when you get pregnant again. I am now 8 months into my first pregnancy and like you, can finally feel that it is real. It’s really time to celebrate, don’t you think: that this time round, the baby means business!
Comment by Jane Sunshine — December 6, 2007 @ 3:46 am
Thanks, Amitava! Good luck, Jane Sunshine…
Comment by Uma — December 8, 2007 @ 4:06 am
Yup, am in India now. But am entangled in a mad controversy elsewhere! See my blog…
Comment by Sharanya — December 11, 2007 @ 1:27 am
Brilliant narrative. And I am glad all is well Uma. My best wishes are with you!
Comment by Truman — December 13, 2007 @ 3:28 am
hmmmm, seems the time is quite near now :)
best wishes uma
Comment by adi — January 14, 2008 @ 7:24 am
Hi Uma,
Its been a long time since I visited your blog and WOW!! I find out that there is a new baby in the family!! Congratulations!
This post really resonated with me. With my second pregnancy, I went through something similar. Kind of like waiting for something to go wrong. i didn’t make any plans, didn’t emotionally involve myself with the baby until much later in the pregnancy. Beautiful post!
Comment by Cee Kay — January 21, 2008 @ 7:49 pm
Haven’t been here in a while so catching up on missed posts! Lovely writing. Glad all is well.
Comment by dipti — January 29, 2008 @ 10:25 am