Boarding begins in 48 hours...
...and I am starting to feel every single feeling.
We arrived in March of this year and are heading out almost exactly 8 months later in November. It was, a VERY SUCCESSFUL, Plan A for Kapil and I:
- Get pregnant
- Have the baby in Kapil's hometown
- Be fortunate enough to have several hands to help me recover and evolve into 'mom mode'
- Build a home for us here in Bangalore for future visits
And it all happened.
It happened even though India went through one of the harshest second waves of COVID. It happened even though the baby was in a breached position. It happened even though the country was in lockdown. It happened because we did what we needed to fucking do to make it happen. And it happened without any one of us getting sick or exposed.
Well, not ANY of us. Kapil's aunt caught a bad case of COVID right around the time we went in for my C-Section. And later on her husband made a drastic choice that really affected us all. More on that though. Let's back-up a bit and really FEEL these FEELINGS. So, buckle up buttercup. This is going to be a long entry.
Let's have a baby in Bangalore!
I can't really remember how to pronounce or even spell our doctors' names, but these two women were no-nonsense obstetricians who yelled at me for not exercising during my pregnancy, for staying up really late working East Coast hours, and not eating all the traditional Indian things (I'm not a fan of seeds, coarse spices or certain spice leaves in my foods).
But even if I did all the things they asked, I don't think it would have changed much. Little monster was sitting upright and did not want to budge. We were having a breached pregnancy and by 38 weeks, our doctors said - "pick a date for your C-Section"
I, of course, asked Twitter to help me pick the date.
Now, if you recall from a previous entry, I was TERRIFIED of labor and delivery. Like, fairly certain that if I had to go through with a vaginal birth, that would be the last thing I would do,
cause I would be dead from the pain and probably bleed out because I'm anemic.
So, for someone who is a STRONG LIBRA and had no birthing plans together before or during my pregnancy, having the decisions made for me is just what I wanted.
Put me to sleep, wake me up with the kiddo.
Of course, when I asked to be put completely under, they said "lol no". We need you awake to make sure things are ok. You need to hear the baby cry when we take it out the sunroof. You need to kiss your baby when its covered in all that gunk. All stuff I was not terribly interested in doing. Seriously, what would it take for you to just...put me to sleep and then wake me up later. No-nonsense Dr. A and B would not entertain that idea.
Fun Fact: I have really normal blood pressure.
It's a trick I learned from my first boyfriend - controlling my blood pressure through meditation. Every time I get my BP taken, it's practically perfectly normal. 120/80. But I guess when you're about to go in for abdominal surgery and you have to be awake the whole time, meditation goes right out the fucking window. My BP was close to 200.
Dr. B actually wouldn't let me get drugged up and sent back for surgery until it went down. Which meant I had to lie there in a robe with all the dongles stuck to my skin and try not to freak out or think that this was going to be the last thing I would ever do and I'll never get to meet my child and Kapil is going to be a widow and deal with my family without me and everything is going to fall apart.
My BP did not go down.
They had to bring Kapil into the room to try and calm me down. Even though their COVID protocols were that he was not allowed to see me until a few hours after the surgery. And between the two of us, I'm the one that usually needs to calm Kapil down, not the other way around. So, I didn't think that them bringing him in was going to have any affect at all on the situation. Thankfully, I was wrong. Kapil was a champ. He brave-faced it and talked me down and got my BP to a decent enough place where Dr. B gave the all clear.
I walked into the OR. They gave me the epidural. I felt everything go numb. I literally said "whoa" and they lied me down, strapped my arms out, cathed me up, put up the curtain and we were off.
My BP went back up again.
fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, this is happening. there's a baby in me and it's coming out. fuck fuck fuck. did they already cut me open? I can see something red in the reflection of the ceiling. is that normal? fuck fuck fuck, can they give me more drugs? fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
They had to bring Kapil back in.
During the second wave of COVID, where they have to schedule ONE operation a week to make sure there's no cross contamination going on, where they won't allow any visitors or family in the hospital, they broke their rules to calm me down. Kapil came in, held my hand and did not look ONCE past the cloth that shielded both of us from the gory mess that was going on below my belly button. I'm pretty sure if he didn't focus directly on me, he would not have been able to keep me calm. But even with him there, holding my strapped down hand, they had to give me extra drugs and put a cloth over my eyes to keep me from freaking out.
Next thing I remembered was hearing a cry.
I was really out of it. I think there was some tugging going on. Not sure. But I heard a baby cry. It didn't sound familiar to me at all. I tried looking in the direction of it but my head was strapped down and that cloth over my eyes had me pretty out of it. I remember asking Kapil what it was.
It's a girl. Rachel we have a girl.
See, now I'm feeling emotionally about it, 8 months later, recalling it all - I'm getting emotional. But at that moment, I was like. "Ok. That's cool I guess". We had so many names set aside for a girl, only a few for a boy - so, again, as a libra, I was hoping it was a boy so I wouldn't have to choose between 10 different girl names. That's where my head was at. After I hear it's a girl, one of the medical staff brings the baby DIRECTLY to my face and says "KISS IT! KISS THE BABY"
Who the fuck is this thing and why do I have to kiss it NOW?!
Like, leave me alone, my bottom half is cut open.
Not very motherly, I know. But I was drugged up pretty good and I was 100% certain that I was going to die. So, kissing this baby girl was not on my to do list. But they wouldn't ease up on the kiss the baby thing so I kissed it. Then Kapil was asked to leave the room. It was time to close me up.
So I started counting backwards from 100. Then forwards, and backwards again.
I did that, what felt like, 20 times before I got any notification that things were actually done down there. Kept looking at the ceiling through the cloth on my eyes to see how much red was in that reflection. Wondering which part of my body they were sewing up now. Just keep counting backwards. Then I was in the recovery space for an hour I think. Just lying there, alone, not in my birthing suite, but someplace outside the OR before I get to go be with Kapil and the baby. They brought the baby to me to try and get her to nurse...that did not go well.
Ever had someone play with your nipples, but not in a fun way, and you're super drugged up and you can't do anything about it, and they are speaking a different language and are forcing your arms to hold a baby while you're unable to move your legs?
No?! weird.
Kapil and I talked about breastfeeding. I shared that it didn't work out well with my sister or my mom and that I had a strong feeling that it was going to be the same situation with me. That we should prepare for formula. But here in India, you breastfeed. You breastfeed because women have breasts and babies feed from them and that's what makes you a mom.
I'm sure that's not how they really feel, but hindsight is problematic, I think.
The tiny monster did not understand why my nipples weren't cooperating. My body was not ready for the baby to be here yet. Everyone was disappointed, and would stay disappointed, or chapped, or dry and sore, or bleeding, for a few months.
But now, those few months don't feel like anything anymore. Except for that one time I was so sore she had to stay away from me for a few days and I had to pump and I pumped more than I ever pumped before and thought,...
...damn, my body is incredible.
We were in the hospital for three days. Kapil slept on a couch instead of making it into a bed. I slept in my hospital bed. Food was good, care was incredible, the bathroom situation wasn't that bad, there was a view of a church from our window. It made me feel like some part of my family was there even though they weren't, and wouldn't be, for awhile.
Eventually, we had to name her, this thing.
She didn't have much a personality. Still very much cooking in those first few weeks. Little chicken legs and curled up arms. A face gravity didn't know what to do with yet. What is she? What will she be? All the names we put together weren't fitting: Ren, Mona, those were the top runners but just weren't her.
Google was little help.
How we landed on Ruhi, I can't remember. But it sounded right.
Ruhi. Little Ruhi B. Baby Tree.
You turned three a few months ago and I am so proud that I can still feel the magic that you are everyday. It was a process coming home with you at 6 months old. It was rough trying to juggle work and motherhood during the winter, with a nanny, then without a nanny. It wasn't easy overcoming the drama with my family and COVID and a baby they never got to meet (I think it still affects them). It was rough moving you from the boob to food, but you did it. It was a small struggle to potty train, but you did it. And you continue to make me feel more than I've ever felt.
Days are passing and you're changing all the time. I hope you learn how to document who you are in ways where you can continue to evolving and expand. Because there is so much to be done.
