That cold day in December when the doctor was administering anesthesia to carve out the lifeless fetus, I realised just how much I wanted the baby. From not wanting to be a young mom to feeling jealous of every woman who carried a kid, this short term pregnancy had brought about a sea-change in my perceptions of motherhood. The doctor, sensing this sudden onset of impatience, advised me, “Wait at least for three to four months before the next pregnancy.”
Exactly four months later, I was pregnant again. Even though the doctor confirmed my pregnancy, she couldn’t confirm the well-being of my child. She asked me to wait for another three weeks for the heart of the baby to start beating. Those were the longest three weeks of my life. I couldn’t announce nor celebrate my eagerly awaited pregnancy. On 14th of May, a day before my first wedding anniversary, the doctor viewed my baby in an ultrasound scan, confirmed the heartbeat and finally congratulated me on my impending motherhood.
Today, about 21 weeks into my pregnancy and my baby growing every minute, doubts still continue to plague me.
In the beginning, the gender issue bothered me; the choice of male or female seemed important. But now I realise that the choice is neither important nor is it in my hands. Another fear is the rotund matronly physique that most moms support. Would I or won’t I shed all the extra baggage and what is the ideal time frame for it?
My supreme fear is whether my baby would be in the pinkest of health, as all baby posters show; would he/she be born normally or would both of us have to go the difficult way? I’ve realised one thing, though. Knowledge is not always that great a thing to have. The more one knows, the more one tends to speculate on all that can go wrong.
In complete contrast to me is my husband. He suffers from a condition called equanimity. Nothing seems to disturb him. Whenever I seek him to add fuel to my doubts, all he offers me is a one-liner: “I believe in destiny, so should you.” He has already thought of beautiful names for his daughter/son. He comes home every evening, strokes my stomach and says hello to his baby. We are both eagerly awaiting the day we can hold the living-kicking bundle in our arms and thank the Creator for His exquisite gift.