One Step At A Time

I accept- Motherhood is tough!

Much, much tougher than what I had anticipated. Actually, I was so occupied with the pregnancy and then worried about the actual delivery that I had not read or prepared myself enough for the aftermath. I had assumed that once I deliver, my body would automatically get back in shape. Obviously I would have a baby to take care of which should not be all that difficult, considering that a new born’s needs ranges from cleaning him up to feeding him. I was treating the entire exercise like an examination and the format suited me; something that I was used to. There was something that you need to prepare for, go through it and then get an award, appreciation, appraisal, promotion at the end of it. I knew how to achieve this. I was a pro at it. I had been doing this for the past three decades now.

So, you read and exercise diligently, prepare yourself mentally for nine whole months, have a normal delivery and get a healthy baby as an award and appreciation at the end of the entire exercise. My thought process did not go beyond that. Beyond that life should be a happily-ever-after is what I had assumed.

Obviously I was highly mistaken. Despite having a normal delivery of which I need to share it here before I start forgetting the details, my body is not what it used to be. Every muscle, every movement is an effort and it HURTS- like all the time.

I had some complications during the delivery and which are being tackled right now and the doctor says that I need patience and will power which I thought I had in abundance till around last week.

Immediately after the delivery, high on the mother hood and compulsive-control-freak syndrome, I had started on getting my life back on track. The doctor had asked me to walk- despite the pain. And walk I did. The first few days when I could barely put my foot down without crying out in pain, the Husband literally lifted me off the bed and we took one step at a time- slowly. We walked the entire length of the hospital corridor hand in hand. In that sanitised posh hospital environment we met other parents and happy, smiling nurses who frequently congratulated on the delivery. We debated on names and laughed over inane stuff and we took a step- gradually.

High on pain-killers hospital was a controlled environment. With a steady support of friends around who got food, fun, laughter and games – I drifted in and out of sleep while the group rallied around me and played taboo and gossiped and laughed. I was handed over the baby intermittently. If he cried I just needed to press a button and a genie like smiling nurse appeared who it seemed knew what was wrong immediately. She cleaned, fed the baby and handed over a sleeping, sweet smelling, neatly packaged bundle of joy. My diet was controlled, my medicines were handed over on time and with complete recovery just round the corner, we thought life is now just so perfect.

Then, we came home. By then I had a full house at home. Suddenly everything turned topsy-turvy. I was on reduced pain medication and with a fourth degree tear due to a failed vaccum and then forceps delivery I could again barely walk or breathe or talk. To add on to the chaos, now I did not have the genie like button to make that ever efficient nurse appear from nowhere. When the baby cried, I was the one responsible. I was now the mommy. But on a lot of nights- I did not know what was I doing. The baby cried – all through the night. With huge blood loss during delivery, my body was already quite weak. Yet, I struggled. I had cleared so many exams in life- this can’t be that difficult. I have the will power. I can ace it – is what I kept telling myself repetitively- till last week.

Last week I had an added complication when I started bleeding heavily and suddenly. After staying awake for nights together and barely having the time in the day to maintain a proper diet and medicine regimen, I was irritable and cranky. Baby perhaps still connected to me also sensed the same and was also irritable and cranky. That one night after hours of the same exercise- I gave up completely. I was training the Husband on how to change a diaper and preparing a formula feed for the baby which he could feed while I slept since I felt I just could not manage to make myself move anymore. We were scheduled to have an ultrasound to figure out what’s wrong with me the next morning. Just then the baby got up and I saw the Husband struggling to manage him. Despite the searing pain that each movement of any muscle led to, I took the baby over from him and sobbed and soaked him with my tears while I rocked him to sleep. The Husband engulfed me in his arms and I kept crying and repeating that I need to get well soon- I cried and sobbed, ‘There is no one who can take care of my baby even for a night. What would happen to him if something happens to me? Please make me better. Please make this pain go away. I have no back up. My baby needs me.’

We stayed like that for what seemed like hours. Soaked in each other’s tears we finally slept intertwined to each other. That night I realized that I would never ever have a back up. No mother ever has a back up. You just need to brush yourself up, push yourself a little more and tackle each day- one step at a time.

That is exactly what we are doing as we get to know each other as a family- taking one step at a time!