Holding my Baby
I was eight months pregnant and watching the doctor scans my stomach. The baby looked so small although my stomach was big. After the scan, I walked into the room and sat in front of the doctor. “We have a problem, the baby is not growing as much as he should be” said doc.
I was confused and looked at my husband whose face mirrored mine. The doctor explained that the baby was not gaining enough weight. We have to do an emergency caesarean to save the baby. I was given a choice to decide on a date and fast.
We informed our parents who went into a panic overdrive. It is considered unlucky to have the baby in the eighth month my mom said. The days are not astrologically and horoscopically good my aunt said. Kumar and I decided we had to save this baby, so we fixed up a date that my mother picked. I prayed to all the gods and went in for the operation.
The doctor was chatting with me right through the operation. I heard a sharp intake of breath by the nurse “he is so small” she said. I saw my doc signal her to be silent. They gave the baby to me to hold. He was tiny like a doll I could hold him with my palm. It was only a moment. He was taken away to the neonatal unit. My baby boy was less than two kilos, with an undeveloped lung, and many complications. I understood why the doctor had refused a family planning operation on me.
I was given the option of going home and coming back to take the baby. I was not moving anywhere without him. It was painful not being able to feed him and seeing him inside the incubator. I would cry silently in the neonatal unit with Kumar my husband. We did not want anyone to know what we were going through. We prayed to all the gods silently.
We were home in two weeks. I had to keep the baby isolated and bring him up alone. I have no idea where the strength came from. Three months later baby was in his normal growth range. Today he is a naughty and active seven year little boy. I believe in miracles.