Three’s Company
“I am not ready yet.”
“You will never be, not even at the age of 60.”
“But I don’t think I want this baby…………..” I broke off, hoping he would understand.
He looked at me and then went on to give me a detailed explanation of an abortion. I almost threw up. Decision made, we were having a baby. The only bit, we did not know a thing about this parenting business! To give you the back-story, six months into my marriage I was expecting.
Funny thing about the human race, they find pleasure in your pain. This can be endorsed by the gay abandon with which people dance in front of the bridegroom’s horse. So it was when I announced my pregnancy. Neighbours claimed they knew it from my facial glow and relatives started sending recipes to ensure I had an ‘intelligent’ and ‘fair’ baby. Honestly, all that I was concerned with was a quick labour. I couldn’t be bothered if my baby’s complexion wasn’t peaches and cream.
My hubby’s cousin gave me a book on pregnancy do’s and don’ts. It had all the advice I’d need to sail through the trimesters with dedicated sections for both mother and father to be. Day in and day out, I prayed for the baby to pop out nice and easy. I kept myself active and urged hubby to read up to be ‘prepared’. Hubby wanted a girl. I told him to take whatever we got, coz it wasn’t going back to where it came from. The pregnancy was relatively peaceful. In fact, baby express was bang on time.
“So the baby coming now?” he asked.
“It really is my first time you know”, I hissed in between mild pains.
And then he said those three beautiful words, “Where’s the book?”
I could have killed him!
I took my revenge in the labour room and crushed his hands with every contraction. Technically I was here because of him. Every time he asked me to breathe, I wished I was a dragon. My male gynecologist had told me that labour pain would bring tears to my eyes. I was in the hospital for the past 4 hours, no sign of tears. Damn, this was going to be a long night….
Baby T was here in another hour and thirty six minutes. One wimper and was back to sleeping. Being a Bollywood generation, I expected the nurse to go ballistic announcing the arrival of my bundle of joy. But…..Nothing!
I then asked the doc, “So, is it a boy or a girl?”
“Ah, It’s a girl” he said.
“WOW……….I mean……wow”
“I thought you’d say that”, he added wisely.
10 years since, the tears always are overwritten by smiles. We’ve graduated from sports channels to cartoon network, from romantic movies to Disney, from fine dining to McDonalds and from exotic vacations to family time. Do we know what parenting is all about? Nah! But we are learning every single day.
Vinita Bahl Crasto is a mother to a divalicious 10 year old. A freelance writer, she loves to be referred to as the Domestic Goddess. Read her at http://blogwatig.blogspot.in
