I was seven and a half years old. We were at the hospital visiting my aunt (paternal uncle’s wife) who had just given birth to a baby girl. Even though at that every instant the sight of a red-faced baby did not make me feel all maternal, a few months down the line, it did.
Yes, my first-first cousin (as in, the firstborn of all my first cousins) is the reason I have loved babies. Since 1994.
When she was old enough to support her neck and I, old enough to not break her or anything, I was allowed to hold her and take care of her. And I loved it. I loved cooing to her, talking to her, feeding her, massaging her before her bath and even dressing her up after my grandma bathed her. Although I didn’t change any actual diapers (of another cousin sister) till I was eighteen, I knew that I would love the whole experience when I did have one of my own.
When she learned how to walk, we played this little game that I loved. I would stand near the foot of the bed while I made her wait at the head. Then I would spread my arms wide open and ask her to run to me. She would, every time. And when she reached me, she would hug me.
We repeated this countless times because I loved her baby hugs and she loved hugging her big sister too (and still does, I might add.) A year and a half later, when another cousin was born, I played this game with both of them – getting hugged by one while the other waited for the first to turn back and run to the head of the bed so that they could run to me.
I knew it right then. I had to have babies; well, at least one.
It wasn’t until 21 years later and almost three years since I’d been married that we decided we were ready to take the next big step. 2016 was going to be the year, our year. The year that our child would be born, or at least be on the way.
As we were officially trying to get pregnant this year, I was well prepared (to get pregnant, not for the pregnancy itself, though. More on that later.) Right from December 2015 I started eating healthy (read: I made sure I had breakfast and that I had lunch and dinner on time), I ate salads, sprouts, I added milk to my daily intake and reduced caffeine. I even stopped having the occasional beer right from August 2015 and started Folic Acid tablets in January 2016.
So it was no surprise that once the actual process began, I started to pay even more attention to every single change in my body. For instance, if I could smell something, I would ask my husband if he could smell it too just to make sure if it was normal for me to be sensing it or if I had a super-nose already. I know, it was all very silly, but I couldn’t help it. I was excited about being pregnant.
The real game changer that led me to believe that I wasn’t imagining stuff, that things were actually happening in my body was the soreness and heaviness in my breasts ten days before my periods were due. Now this usually happens to me before every due date, but just a day or two before. But ten days! Nope. Something had to be different.
I didn’t want to jump to conclusions and the normal thing would have been to wait a few more days and see if I got my periods or not. But me? I’m not normal, at least not in the traditional sense of the word. I had to end the suspense. I knew it was still early to test positive but I had TWO pregnancy tests in my closet, mocking me, almost screaming, ‘Why don’t you just find out?’ And what was the harm? If this one tested negative and I still didn’t get my periods the following week, I still had another one.
So I took it.
I know, I am weak. As was the second pink line on the test and for those two minutes (or so it seemed) that it took for the faint second line to appear, I was disappointed that it was negative. Because how could it be? I was feeling it. Inside, I knew it had happened.
But when I saw the light second line, I knew I was. A friend had experienced this and had told me that even a faint second line is a positive. Even more important was the fact that if it was a clear negative, there would be no second line at all.
I told my husband that evening. And like every excited father-to-be, he asked me to not get excited till the following week when we’d know for sure. (Sense the sarcasm here? 😛 )
So for the next six days, I could hardly pass time. I also caught a slight fever and felt weak. So on Thursday, January 21, 2016, my husband decided to stay home because I still wasn’t feeling well. And on that day, I was one day late, and I am never late. It’s pretty much clockwork for me.
I figured, since he was at home and it was one day past my due date, the test should be more accurate now. So at 7:45 AM (I don’t get up that early even when he is going to work), I took the test. And BAM! Two clear lines appeared pretty quickly on it.
And here’s the most priceless part! When I came out of the bathroom with the positive test and told my husband, it’s positive, his reaction (without even getting off the bed) was: Ho gaya? Good. (It’s happened? Good.) I just love him! 😛
So yeah, it’s been three months today since we know (17 weeks in all) and it has not been a very smooth ride. But it’s getting better. I can’t wait till the next five months pass so I can hold my little one. But I have a plan. I’ll blog, click pictures, decorate, make cute stuff for the baby, ogle at baby stuff online and pass the days. 😛
And here’s something weirdly awesome, almost like a premonition.
My maternal grandfather had blessed us last year during Ganesh Chathurthi (September 2015) saying that by this time next year, I would be a mother. And what a lovely coincidence that our little Baby Bear is due in end of September this year 🙂