Of Grandparents, Malayalam Star Signs and Third Trimester Hormones
Chapter 3 in the Times of Amma Story.
Honest Dispatches From The Trenches of Motherhood
Read Ch 1 here and Ch 2 here.
Two eyes were peering through my door as I woke up. The concern, love and anticipation in them warmed and infuriated me in equal parts.
‘Anything? Any…sensations?’ My mother asked me for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day.
“No”, I said gruffly as I turned over and pulled the blanket up to my nose. I heard the door shut and her whispering to my mother-in-law that there was nothing new to report. I wished I could just stay in my room forever. When I emerged from the bedroom after my nap, it would be my mother-in-law’s turn to look at me questioningly.
I was in the home stretch now, and all my in-laws and parents wanted was for me to go into labour and deliver the sweet, sweet grandchild they had been waiting for. Said grandchild though, looked like she had no plans of coming. There were no signs of any sort apart from the kicking that had become intense. My stomach was still high. I was not nesting, and we were still a week away from my official due date of December 26th. I was bloated and exhausted and tired of being this pregnant.
My parents and in-laws, however, were having a grand time. They went for walks together and watched TV together. They gathered around at the table and had loud, raucous conversations together. And I shook my head and tried to read my books or listen to music.
One evening, I walked out of my room to see the four talking loudly about Malayalam star signs.
“Trikketta and Moolam are long done. Pooradam gets over soon. Will it at least be Uthradam?”
As if on cue, they turned and looked at me as if I was to give them this baby on this random star sign, as if that was the solution to world peace. I remember a wave of white rage washing over me. Hormones for sure, but also the feeling of being pressured. I stomped out in a huff, just wanting to be away from the nonsense and desperate to just get my baby out of me. Gestational diabetes and the weight gain and the disciplined eating. I couldn’t anymore.
I waddled with as fast a pace as I could to the Convenience store in our apartment complex and bought a can of Pepsi — something I’d denied myself since the moment I’d found out that I was pregnant. But I wanted to do something bad just to release my anger. I certainly couldn’t bring myself to drink alcohol, and so to my pregnancy-addled brain, the worst thing I could do to show people that I was angry was to drink Pepsi. I took a sip and then chucked it away because my taste buds were misfiring, and that drink tasted disturbingly sweet. As I took my third calming-down waddle around the complex, with my husband silently walking with me, we saw my Achan coming in the distance. He had an apologetic expression on his face. Why was he looking apologetic, I wondered. He wasn’t even in the room when the others were sitting around discussing potential birth signs.
He caught up to us and put an arm around me.
“They are just excited, mol.” he said.
“Yes, but when they ask me stupid questions like whether I will be able to deliver the baby on some specific star, it puts a lot of unnecessary pressure on me. Not to mention so irrational! I’m the pregnant one, I’m the one who should be doing irrational things and I’ve just been so good and doing whatever I can to meet everyone’s expectations. It’s not fair to let their excitement override my stress.” He nodded and didn’t say anything but sat with me till I calmed down enough to go back home.
I walked in to a living room with faces that looked semi-contrite. My Dad gave my mother a warning look as she looked poised to launch into an explanation of some sort. She backed away.
I went back to bed, annoyed yet mollified by the delicious food that my mom and mother-in-law had waiting for me. All the pressure and random comments aside, the fact that was that my husband and I had parents who were so invested in their grandchild to be that they were here and present and ready to do whatever it took to be a part of this baby’s life.
And it was a good feeling to know that your child was coming into a world where she was already so loved, sight unseen.
Not everyone was that lucky, I thought as I asked for increasingly spicy food.
A few days later on the 24th of December , I woke up from an afternoon nap, to see two eyes peering from the door with the same questioning look in them.
This time though, I had a different response to give. I’d woken up because I felt like I had bands tightening around my mid-section. The sensation was radiating from my stomach, all the way to my back. Things felt different.
I felt different. I gingerly got up and the whole house swung into action.
Was it time?
But that’s a story for another time.
