As I opened my blog after what seemed like ages, I was disappointed to see the last post of May, 2024. Have I not written since? June 2024 brought the happy news of my pregnancy. And the rest is history. I was blessed with a baby girl in March this year and it has been a rollercoaster ride since. 

So, I thought why not a blog on motherhood? How is it to be a new mom? How has the journey been? Honestly, I myself have read so much literature on it that I don’t feel I have anything new to offer – at least not as a guide to new moms. 

So, then what? I decided to write a letter to my daughter who turned 3 months. What would a letter tell Meher? And why now? Well for the latter, it’s only now that I feel little bit like my old self again. Where would I begin? Do I introduce myself to her? Do I tell her about our journey so far? Or do I explore the possibilities of the future I imagine? While letters tend to be personal, I decided to decode some thoughts here on the rollercoaster of emotions that has been motherhood for me thus far!

We live in a society where motherhood is eulogized. (Some may argue that it is more of a eulogy for the sacrifice of a woman at the altar of motherhood.) So, I was prepared for the switch button the moment my child was born. So many, including my mom, had shared the life changing moment when they saw their child for the first time. So, there I was, after what was the most excruciating 14 hours of my life, ready for that feeling and gush of emotions. With two shots of epidural, a right side that was paralyzed and frayed sense of well-being, when the doctors finally pulled her out. Complete with physical pushing and the use of vacuum (much like the scene from the movie 3 Idiots, albeit a lot more painful than a movie can ever show), she arrived and was placed on my chest. I saw her top profile and before any recognizable emotion, turned to my husband who had steadfastly stood by my side, if “is she ok?” and he said yes. RELIEF was the first emotion – of her coming out, her being ok and the idea that the pain would finally stop (well, the last bit is a different story)!  

The next 3 days in the hospital are blurred now, except perhaps a few instances. After the OT, as I was wheeled back to the labour room the nurse brought her. That’s when I saw her – my child. Undeniably an emotion takes over that is difficult to formulate in words – it’s a feeling I have never had – not for anyone. Our story really begins from there, I guess. For starters, breastfeeding is a journey in itself. When she latched for the first time, I was reminded of Rachel from FRIENDS – “WONDERFULLY WEIRD” she had called it. In hindsight, it somehow sums up the emotion – replete with the struggle of flow, the science of angles and its centrality in the social system. 

Over the next few days – the highs and lows were extreme for I was emotional and well, in a lot of pain still. A night before I was due to be discharged, she was whisked away to NICU for high levels of jaundice. If labour was bad, trust me that night was worse. She had physically been part of my world for less than 72 hours but the idea of her being in NICU left me feeling helpless. I found myself not trusting anyone else with my child. I wanted to sit and watch the nurse handle my baby – make sure she was gentle and careful. And that’s when I knew, that PROTECTION was riding high. 

The saga of sleepless nights began when we got home. 11 pm, 12 am, 2 am, 3 am, 4:30 am, 5:40 am and 7 am. Feed, burp, change diaper, sleep (she sleeps and I rock her). I won’t deny, I started dreading the nights. By evening a kind of depression would sink, the feeling of being lonely at night. Every time she cried inconsolably, I wanted to cry myself. And I did cry. Many times. Postpartum depression is a word I do not wish to use lightly, but it does capture the sense of fatigue, anxiety and disorientation. I stopped feeling like myself. So busy was my mind and body in catering to the needs of another that COMPELTE SURRENDER would perhaps best describe this stage. Somewhere in this, I realized I had lost track of everything else. Honestly, at this point, I was wondering where is the wonderful journey of parenthood everyone talks about? Was it really this exclusionary and isolating?

As she turned one month, life began to get a semblance of order. Her massage, bath, naps, walks, play time and sleep cycle were all tracked – though they didn’t necessarily have a pattern. With the end of the 40-day period came freedom. Return of our pet into our room was the first. EXCITEMENT at trying new things with her – first non-hospital drive, first dinner in a restaurant, meeting our friends – it was like life was beginning all over again. A month-old child is not exactly company to parents, but slowly you start enjoying sharing experiences. So, this initial excitement is more about reclaiming one’s life albeit with a kid in tow. Routine, something so underestimated, was now celebrated. 

As every mom-friend of mine had said, it really keeps getting better with time. From tracking her development goals (social smiles, grabbing, tummy time) to making my own (going out alone with her, starting exercise and getting her paperwork in order), I was slowly back to being the planned organizer that I am. While the idea of going back to work, or doing anything that I enjoyed had taken a backseat, slowly I RECONNECTED with myself. While pregnancy is a time where the mother and child are one, to really find your rhythm, the child has to be given the time to evolve and you to adapt. Yes, a mother and child are connected from inception, but nothing can equate the joy of seeing recognition in your child’s eyes. Her smiles that acknowledge my existence mean the world to me. It was at this stage that I started looking forward to what was coming. And in the process, thinking of the relationship I hope to have with her. 

So, what is the relationship I hope to have with her? Perhaps, my fondest childhood memory is a gateway to that. I remember it distinctly. My mom and I dancing to the songs of Dil Toh Pagal Hai in our drawing room, all while eating my favorite Nirula’s pizza. All this was to celebrate my first and thankfully last bee-sting! It’s a memory of a deep FRIENDSHIP between my mother and me. And I hope that Meher too will remember her childhood the same way – where the two of us celebrate everything and shy away from nothing. 

Though Meher is still too young, she now recognizes me, smiles affectionately and we have started our endless conversation of babbles. I continue to try to have her say “Ma”. She does pronounce it often, but the meaning still eludes her. As I wait for her to discover the meaning, I too am uncovering the meaning of motherhood. For now, I believe my daughter and I have a bond. A bond that the word LOVE alone does not capture. Somewhere, she completes me, gives me purpose and a newfound desire to live.