Prolonged Wait

'सबर का फल मीठा होता है' पर क्या सब लोग मीठे फल की चाहत मैं खुसी खुसी सबर करते है ?

Waiting as such is an irritating, time-consuming and frustrating activity. In this entire world there must be a exceptional few who are amused by the act of waiting but for all the rest of us the word itself terrifies us lest the act of it. If someone makes us to wait for him/her our tempers rise with each passing second and sometimes it just gets into our nerves as we vent them openly. Time in and time out almost everyone has his/her share of waiting to do in life; it maybe for commuting purpose, or for a special somebody or for something we have aspired in our lives or may be for the dreaded performance results. Initially waiting increases our enthusiasm but if done for long duration it not only kills our excitement but also makes us gloomy and depressed.

I am now in the 39^th week of my pregnancy i.e., almost 10 months. Whoever said that the gestational period of humans is 9 months is a male chauvinist figure of this society and believe me if ever I meet him I am going to kill him at that very moment.

I won’t say that I didn’t enjoy being pregnant, I did by all means. Despite of my previous ‘happily ever-after mood’ of being pregnant, now the waiting spree is getting me all wound up with agitation. From the very start of gaining consciousness I hated waiting but customarily in every sphere of my 28 years I have been left to wait for my turn by life itself; and this time also it was just the same as I am practically wait for my baby’s grand arrival. Initially I enjoyed the wait part and was quite excited with each passing moment. But now as I am drawing to the end of my journey I am getting more impatient.

In India, normally all first child are born 2-3 weeks before the estimated date, so we were quite sure that my baby would arrive sometime around the 3^rd week of April. But there was no sign of pain and the week passed off normally. In my visit with my GYN when my mom raised the question about being late in delivery she said that in America the first child generally comes after the due date. To this my mom promptly said, “But she (i.e., me) is an Indian”. The GYN then replied with a smile, “She might be an Indian but her baby is an American and American babies arrive late”. Mark the irony, now the baby and the mother have two different nationalities. My unborn baby is an American while he is still inside the womb of his Indian mother.

So, according to the American Medical Bible I have to wait for another one week after my due date and all my Indian ancestry has no implication anymore. The paradox here is that when I am unable to wait for my due date, and now I am made to wait later than that. It isn’t that I am in terrible pain and the baby isn’t buzzing. My American baby is having an ultimate time rolling happily and enjoying the delicacies inside me while I crib about my numb senses and overstretched abdomen. The dreadful anticipated pain is no where around the corner but instead of that I have all sorts of cramps in all odd parts of my body.

I remember one day I screamed out to my mom owing to an awful cramp and a sudden heightened pain, but my mom laughed with excitement as she thought that my contraction at last started but it was just a mirage.

So, here I am in my 39^th week of pregnancy daily praying to the Almighty to bless me with contraction pains so that I can deliver my baby and get over with the anticipation. But again ‘me being me’, I think that if the prelude to the motherhood is so mind boggling then what it would be to actually face motherhood. Facing motherhood is yet another challenge that would require a completely different set of attributes with patience being in the top of the list. Now, just think me and patience, can we ever coincide? That is a hell of a question and I will come to it when I come to it and that would make another post but for now I wait. 

For all those who would advice me on having a patient attitude at this point of my pregnancy the below lines are for them.

“If men were equally at risk from this condition—if they knew their bellies might swell as if they were suffering from end-stage cirrhosis, that they would have to go nearly a year without a stiff drink, a cigarette, or even an aspirin, that they would be subject to fainting spells and unable to fight their way onto commuter trains—then I am sure that pregnancy would be classified as a sexually transmitted disease and abortions would be no more controversial than emergency appendectomies.”

-Barbara Ehrenreich

"If pregnancy were a book they would cut the last two chapters." - Nora Ephron

The ultimate restroom fiasco :s

Just imagine you are in the last month of your pregnancy with an overactive bladder and your restroom is practically inaccessible. It’s a nightmare believe me and I had my share of it just recently. It must be hilarious for you guys :X but for me that was pathetic and torturous.

I am 38 weeks pregnant now (and for those who don’t have the least idea); at this time the baby’s head is pressed to the urinary bladder as a result pregnant ladies tend to have an overactive urinary bladder. So, when you have got the anatomic picture, you can better understand my misery.

It was just the other day and a sleepy me was just drifting into the world of dreams when my mom called me and said the bathroom door is not opening. Sanjeev went to investigate and found out that somehow the bathroom door had been locked from inside but we couldn't understand till date the how of it as all three of us were outside. That’s when the havoc began. Sanjeev used his (what I call) ‘engineering dimag’ to open the door but it didn’t buzz a little.

OMG!!! What the ****? That’s was just the expression that crossed my mind. I got into a frenzy mood thinking what the hell I am going to do the whole night. I go to the loo every hour or so and just the thought of not able to use the restroom for the whole night was a blow (that too in the very wrong place).

Sanjeev’s attempts were futile and in his weary he went to call our neighbor Deepak Bhaiya (his colleague and a good friend) for help. They both then spent the next hour trying to break the lock but to no use. Suddenly Deepak Bhaiya remembered a 24x7 service where we can seek assistance. So, the call was made but they provided locksmith assistance only to privileged members and neither Sanjeev nor Bhaiya were one of them. But the kind lady at the service centre provided us numbers of two locksmiths, God bless her. Next Sanjeev tried to call those guys but neither of them picked up. :X @###@###@##$%

Now, in this whole madness I was getting agitated (blame my pregnancy hormones for that) and tensed at the same time. And a worried I sat in a corner chair praying to God to start off my contractions so that we could go to the hospital and I could use the restroom there. When I said this to Sanjeev and my mom the next day, we had a hearty laugh over it but at that time restroom was all I could think of.  

A helpful Deepak Bhaiya suggested us to keep a key of his house and use his restroom whenever required. That was some kind of assurance for the three of us. But, ‘me being me’ a hesitant fool that I am, couldn’t really digest the idea of entering someone else’s house to use the restroom in the dead hours of the night when his entire family would be in the arms of slumber. But considering the advancement of my pregnancy and the long night ahead we accepted Deepak Bhaiya’s kind offer.

With the keys at our disposal, Sanjeev (being the most relaxed one among the three of us) drifted off to sleep soon, but sleep seemed to have deserted me altogether as I twisted and turned in the bed with a heavy heart. My mom who knew me very well came to check on me and found me wide awake. She asked me to come out of the room to sit and talk as tension is not a good friend in pregnancy. So, it was in years that I and my mom had a one-on-one chat late into the night. That was one and only one good thing in the whole restroom fiasco.

Though we had the key to Bhaiya’s house and his permission to use his restroom whenever required but ‘me being me’, I was quite skeptical about the whole idea. But soon I realized I had to keep my reluctant attitude aside and better use the restroom otherwise I would face the consequences later. So, I dragged myself to Bhaiya’s house to freshen myself before something bad happened. That was just the push or courage I needed as I used the loo for another 3-4 times that night (thanks to my pregnant overactive bladder :( ).

First thing in the morning Sanjeev went to our club house to get hold of our maintenance guy and it just took him 2 seconds to open the door. As soon as the door clicked open I sighed with relief and joy.

You guys must have rolled with laughter at my expense but for me that night was quite tormenting and agonizing. I will remember it for years to come.