Tuesday, 31 March 2015

Of egg wraps and a 100 kgs of adipose tissue

The strange thing about pregnancy is that the status of your mood is forever changing. One minute, you are "feeling excited", the next, you have feelings of murdering someone ;)

My strange relationship with eggs was to come full circle towards the end of the pregnancy, much to my shock. What started out as " Get those damn eggs out of this house!" would soon turn into "if you don't get me an egg frankie RIGHT NOW, I am going to burn this damn house!"



So hot was this sudden love affair with eggs that one night, whilst asleep, I found myself salivating as an army of egg rolls and frankies were swimming in front of my eyes as I lay there dreaming!!! :o

Luckily for me, I had a doctor's appointment the very next day, which was actually, for me and my food cravings, just an excuse to go out and eat and blame it all on the pregnancy. teehee ;)

So, off we went to the doctor, all that while, me, lost in a world of egg and cheese wraps and rolls and what not. I couldn't wait for the doctor to finish her check up and picked up my fat arse and rushed at the speed of a snail to the nearest mall, where dear friend Google had pointed out that there indeed was a egg wrap kiosk! EGGS OF THE WORLD, UNITE! For here comes the woman who shall chompchomp and swallow all you yellow folks!

I ate one, and the husband was quick enough to notice that I was lusting after another one. This was embarrasing. My appetite was now officially bigger than his and he knew it! Shudder!

He kept asking, "do you want one more?"

Ermmm, ummm, no no, are you mad? What am I, a whale? To eat TWO WHOLE egg wraps?! Of course not!

Inside, the bump was kicking the crap out of me, it had gotten so excited by the yummylicious taste of melted cheese and egg. THE BUMP wanted more, NOT ME!

ME: Okay, I *think* I will have another one. But, I AM NOT going there to order myself. What is the server going to think of me, this woman who can gobble two whole wraps by herself?!

So, I pretended to not know the husband, while he stood there ordering another wrap for me. Me, the sly and suave food monster that I had become, stood in one corner texting him to MAKE IT A DOUBLE EGG WITH CHEESE!!!



100 kgs, here I come, with eggs coming out of my arse!

Meanwhile, my pregnancy was coming to an end, with labour barely a week away. Soon, I wouldn't be able to blame my insatiable appetite on the bump! SIGH!

Sunday, 29 March 2015

Goodbye, pillows! Hello, 40DD!

The next few days were to bring us real good news.

Life was treating me really well. The husband was happily taking all my mood swings in his stride, and so was mother dear.

My pillows were there to support me, quite literally, through good days and bad. Although, war had been declared upon them by dear husband, who, any given day, would have fallen off the bed at night, but miraculously didn't. Much to my dismay ;)



The good news that we were waiting for, finally came our way, albeit, almost at the beginning of the final month.

No more bed rest and no more taking rest. This was indeed a sad day in my love story with the pillows because was time to say goodbye to them! This was weird, this feeling of sleeping in a flat position, where my head was on the same plane as the rest of my lower half.

In the world of me looking like a mix between Jessica Alba and Nigella Lawson, there would be a Hollywood-style baby shower, with lots of cool gifts, some sexy lingerie, cute little baby clothes and me in a sooper dooper cool Oscar de la Renta gown!

But, alas! This was me, remember?! The queen of sad endings. Baah Humbug!

There was indeed a baby shower, but a desi, Bengali style one. In fact, come to think of it, it wasn't a shower at all! It was just a small lunch gathering, with culinary items of my choice, THAT'S ALL!!!

Jessica Alba Shalba be damned! On the morning of the pretentious shower, I couldn't find one shirt that would fit me! GAAAH!

NOT ONE SHIRT! I was, in fact, even tempted to try one of husband's tees, I was so desperate. The one cool top that I had kept aside for this special day refused to go beyond my by-now size 40 DD bust! :o


I finally settled on a REALLY REALLY LARGE, rather XXL, tunic, that I had quite smugly tossed away previously. The tunic was the only item of clothing that could accommodate my ever-increasing bust and bum. I MEAN, SERIOUSLY, I never knew I had gotten that big!

In the meantime, the bump had decided that s/he had his/her own plans, much to our shock...

Saturday, 28 March 2015

Me, the pregnant version of Satan

SO, there I was, pregnant and unemployed. OH, sorry, I was on a forced leave and taking rest :s

Life had suddenly changed tracks and everything we had planned to a T was thrown out the window and we were left clueless.

Any hoo, there were more exciting things in life than crying over a job that wasn't mine to be. This was JUST A JOB, after all. In the bigger scheme of things, it didn't matter.

I had happily settled into a routine even without the job. I was still on bed rest and had some new best friends, MY SEVEN PILLOWS!

Yes, the double bed was now a bit too small to accommodate a heavily pregnant me, my true love, i.e. my pillows, and the husband, who had been relegated to one tiny little corner of the bed, much to his dismay ;)

Sleeping, in fact, even laying down, was now a nightmare. I literally needed a crane to put me down and another one to get me back up.

The husband was by now officially scared of me. My mood swings had everybody on their best behaviour. Nobody would mess with me. I was the in-house devil-cum-cruella D'evil ;)

If the term bridezilla was coined for brides-to-be who turned into Godzilla, then I was the damn PREGZILLACONDA, pregnant with the combined venom AND size of Godzilla and Anaconda!!! HISSSSSS!



And much to my glee, I was woken up to hot fresh bed tea every morning by the husband! This was great, getting pregnant!!! Never had I ever been woken up to bed tea by him. The Gods were finally listening!

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. D-day was finally nearing, and so was what felt like the 100 kg mark!!!

I was HUGE by now, every task was a pain to do. I was as big as a house and moving me meant serious business. Nothing would fit me anymore. All the clothes that I had smugly kept away thinking that I would never be THIS FAT, were now TIGHT. YEP!

Destiny was biting me in the bum, CHOMP CHOMP!!!



Thursday, 26 March 2015

Life is a bit** out for a vendetta against you

Time was finally flying by. I had miraculously completed two trimesters, or six months, of my pregnancy.

The bump was now happily replying to our nudging and rubbing, much to our delight. This was super cool, this feeling of being kicked the crap out of you, from inside you!

The extra-curricular and unwomanly activities had been passed on to the correct gender. I was no longer the man of the house!

There's nothing like pregnancy and labour to rob a woman of all her dignity, and I don't mean this in a demeaning and sexist manner. It's the most beautiful and natural thing in this world, but man! does it rid you of BLADDER CONTROL! I mean, whoa! It's worse than guzzling litres of water in a non-pregnant avatar for an ultrasound.

I found myself constantly rushing to the loo, half the time checking behind me if I had left a trail of pee. Whoops!

Anyway..!

The thing with luck is that it's good until it turns bad. Ditto with people, they are great, until they grow horns and flash 666 on their foreheads.

At work, my review was due and I was excited, because I had really been working my ass off in the condition that I was in. I was kicked about getting great reviews, but was somewhere concerned that my WFH status might go against me.

I had earned a number of detractors at work, who were, needless to say, quite envious of the fact that I was WFH. I quite doubt whether they knew what it was like to grow a person inside you, not knowing the exact status. There was no guarantee of this pregnancy and we were categorically told the same. We were literally taking each moment and each day as it came.



The day of the review arrived. I was all prepped up with my own performance review. What would happen next would probably be classified as intimidation, to put it nicely.

To cut a long story short, I was mildly asked to "take leave and rest".

You mean, resign? Errrm, no. We can't say that, you see? Take leave...

Okay, then!!! This was whambam thank you, ma'am!!



I don't think I was so mad even when I heard the news of an ex getting married.

What a load of ball-less a**holes, these folks! They needed to grow a pair.

I sent out bye bye emails to those who mattered and asked my stuff to be sent back.

I was done.

Tuesday, 24 March 2015

Looking like Nigella Lawson in an X-Men movie

Being pregnant is a bit like being in an X-Men movie. You get weird abnormal powers and they disappear as soon as the pregnancy is over.

Just like any other pregnant woman, I suppose, I had developed this habit of rubbing my bump and talking to it. Every time I saw something new and exciting, I would say, "Oh look! There's blah and blah!"



Same with eating anything mouth-watering. I would explain to the bump what I was eating as if I was taking it on a culinary ride. The only difference was that I didn't exactly look like Nigella Lawson. Okay, not even a bit like her.

Fine, not even REMOTELY! OKAY! I GET IT! I DEFINITELY WILL NOT LOOK LIKE HER IN A MILLION YEARS!

Moving on...!

So this X-Men-like quality took on epic proportions everytime I felt sick or unwell. Considering that the current scenario spelt disaster, I looked a bit possessed rubbing my by-now-fairly-visible belly and talking to it.

I was quickly admitted and we graciously allowed them to do so without any exchange of question and answer.

This wasn't just a normal admission in a hospital room on a normal bed.

This was me, remember?! My penchant for weird luck was back again.

Because of the extremely low-lying placenta, called Placenta Praevia in medical terms, my pregnancy was at a severe risk of terminating itself given the blood loss.

Thus, my quick-thinking doctor decided to LITERALLY keep me almost upside down for two nights and days chained to the hospital bed. The head of the bed was moved lower, or rather, my legs and back were at a 45 degree higher than the rest of my body.

This is exactly how I lay for more than 48 hours.

Here comes the fun part: ALERT!! GRAPHIC TOILET HUMOUR COMING UP!

This is how I pissed as well. YUP. With a bed pan under my gigantic bottom, I did the small job. Of course it wasn't pretty. The whole damn thing would run down my back and in other weird places.



But, I somehow managed to maintain  a bit of my dignity AND REFUSED TO GO FOR THE BIG JOB IN THIS FASHION. OH NONONO! That wasn't happening. Sure, I had oodles of love for the baby, but no way was I doing this.

Luckily, the nurse relented and I was allowed to stand up and look DOWN at my feet for a change. PHEW!

The reports weren't what we were expecting. I hadn't even completed 3 months, or 1 trimester, of pregnancy, and it wasn't looking viable in the given condition.

I spent the next 3-4 months working from home. And this wasn't the usual WFH. This was, literally, back breaking shit loads of work, sometime exceeding 14 hours a day. And weekends too, at times.

The 45 degree nuisance was, of course, there to stay. On the doctor's orders, the husband went and bought SEVEN pillows, which were stacked under my legs, and I would lay this the whole time when I wasn't working. I would even lay back and eat, the orders were that strict!

Of course,  I would wait for the customary ONE BIG BURP to suggest the food had been digested, and go back to my LOVELY SEVEN PILLOWS.

Considering that I wasn't even allowed to stand for more a couple of minutes, I took great advantage and managed to get some otherwise unachievable work done ;)

The husband learnt how to cook, for one! I was the queen of his world, and man! Was I enjoying it?!

The saying "eating like a pig" was written with me in mind, in my pregnant avatar. I remember I once ate upwards of FOUR SAMOSAS!!! I felt a bit of a bully, or maybe I didn't! Who cares?!



At this point, I feel a bit like Lindsay Lohan in that movie where there's always bad luck in store for her.

This time, some really shitty news. The good part? It wasn't about the pregnancy.

Monday, 23 March 2015

They would rather have me sleep with Sherlock Holmes

The way things were progressing, it seemed like a million years had passed us. In fact, it seems longer now, in hindsight.

However, I was STILL in my 2nd month of pregnancy, and as per the doctor's orders, was taking it easy and was off work.

The husband was travelling, and that was a good thing, because by now, my farts were the talk of town! Or at least, they sure felt like it.

My mother, who has been a victim of these bomb attacks ever since I can recall, was at her wits end. On the one hand were her daughter's pregnancy and her emotions; on the other, her nasal hair were seriously taking a beating!

I was off work and thoroughly enjoying the break. Entertainment was limited to watching Carrie and her friends have sex in 'Sex And The City'. Well, at least somebody was getting some, even if it was in reel life.

That's all I did all day. I mean, watch SATC... guffaw!! :D But for some inexplicable reason, that only pregnant women might understand, I had this weird fear that if I watched too much of all this canoodling and banging of bodies, my child would be a sex addict and I would be blamed forever!

And for this, I blame the friendly gyaan aka advice I received from some not-so-young women I knew who 'caught' me reading Sherlock Holmes one day. I don't think they would have been so shocked if I was canoodling the detective himself! But goodness gracious! Reading detective stories whilst pregnant is worse than sleeping with the protagonist, because horror of all horrors, your child will be born with snooping abilities and will view everyone he meets in life with a magnifying glass! :o



Any hoo, remember the superstitious me?! I thought, why take such a risk? So SATC was conveniently replaced with 'Grey's Anatomy'! If indeed the baby had to really get inspired, might as well become a doctor and then have sex, right?!

The baby, yes! S/he seemed to be growing fine. My system had somewhat settled, and there weren't any fainting spells a la filmy style. The ONLY thing(s) that bothered me were smells of egg and onion. AND PEOPLE. No, not their smells, although that is a non-pregnancy pet peeve, but people bothered me.

I would cry and bawl at the drop of a hat. I would cry if someone was sad, I would cry if the food was too hot. Too cold also left me in tears. Underwear doesn't fit, cue, me crying. Mom didn't make my favourite lunch, again, hysterics. You get the general idea, I suppose!

I had by now taken permission to work from home and had just about spent two odd days doing so, when the scary blood spots were back.

We literally ran out pantless, we were that scared. By the time we had reached the doctor, who was almost an hour away, I was shitting in my pants because I felt something wasn't right.

And sure as hell, was I right?!

As I stood in front of the doctor, she saw me looking down. And there it was, my 'gut feeling'. Blood was literally dripping down my legs and I was shaking as if I was in cold storage.

Sunday, 22 March 2015

BEWARE! THIS WOMAN IS A FART MACHINE!

In my head, I had already decided and dreamt of going through pregnancy looking like Jessica Alba. My body, of course, had a mind of its own. To say that I was ballooning, was of course, coating it with sugar and honey!

I only have half-Sindhi genes, but they suddenly took over my body like there was no tomorrow. Hello, double chin and fat ankles!

It had only been 3 odd days since I had taken the pregnancy test and visited our BFF doctor, so I was only a month, give or take a few days, into the pregnancy.

Every morning, I was woken up to the smell of "ONE BOILED EGG", which I would literally stuff down my throat and follow with a litre of water to get over the damn smell.

People at my work place were giving me suspicious looks, one, because of the igloo padding I would wear; and two, because my lunch box suddenly took on epic proportions! Very diligently packed by mom, of course. And even more diligently chewed, licked and swallowed by idiotic forever-hungry male colleagues!! OOOOOH!!!! SPROUT SALAD! AND FRUITS! grrrr! :s

To make matters worst, I had turned into this friggin' giant BURP AND FART MACHINE! I mean, seriosuly, at one point, it was difficult to make out which end the Enfield-like noise came from! The husband was fed up of me, to say the least. This was, after all, male territory, and how dare I, a pregnant woman, burp and fart so damn loud, that even a sleeping dog would get scared shitless!

Luckily for me, I had a cabin to myself at work. This doesn't imply that I was printing money. It was just an admin decision to give me one, AND NO, IT WASN'T BECAUSE PEOPLE WERE COMPLAINING ABOUT MY FARTING CAPABILITIES!!!



But, Boy! Was the cabin useful?! I only went to work for 4-odd days during my entire pregnancy, but oh man! I made full use of the cabin for my extra-curricular activities ;)

I think it was around the 5th day or so, that I noticed an alarming sign. I was, of course, too worried itself, and the blood spots didn't help. I was lucky enough to have been given a chauffer-driven car by office folks, and was quickly driven down to  my gynaecologist.

It's the damn tiger aka polyp, I kept thinking all the way. My superstitious beliefs weren't far behind, needless to say. So, the ipod was quickly brought out and the playlist double fast-forwarded to some devotional songs. On a serious note, I was battling tears, and was talking to the bump by then, telling it that everything will be all right.

Some quick scans were done, and I was explained that I had an extremely low-lying placenta, the organ that provides nourishment, oxygen and blood to the foetus during pregnancy.

I was told to take it easy, be on bed rest and take leave from work. This wasn't going the way we thought it would and the next couple of months gave us extremely worrying news.

Saturday, 21 March 2015

Goo Goo Dolls give way to Gita, Ganpati and Gyaan

So, there I was, pregnant, albeit along with the damn polyp taking a free ride inside my uterus and possibly squeezing the life out of our rapidly multiplying group of cells, whom we were fondly referring to as "baby".

We had no idea where we were headed. Sure, our strong-headed combination of Tamil (also lovingly referred to as Madrasi by our lovely North Indian citizens of this country) spermatozoa and psuedo-intellectual Bengali ovum had managed to scare the crap out of the darn tiger.  But, the fact remained, that the polyp was weighing heavy on our minds.

The lovely specialised doctors we had earlier met suggested the big A word, but this was our moment, and we weren't ready to let some money-making knife-yielding coat-wearing robot take that away from us.

Phone calls were made to some friends and family alike, and we were nudged in the direction of a doctor who was to become our BFF for the next 9 months.

This new doctor was the miracle we were looking for and her words were the answers to our stream of questions and worried looks. To say that she was God-send remains an understatement.

Any how, mush and sob stories aside! Pregnancy completely changed me, or rather my personality. At this point in time, only our parents knew and 1 colleague and my boss knew.


Gone was the cool, suave girl/woman that I knew myself to be. I took to superstition like a moth to a flame. I started believing in jinxes, started covering up my stomach because I was scared evil looks would harm me and our baby.

Shocker of all shockers, gone was my itunes play list too!! bye bye Hoobastank and Goo Goo Dolls. Hello, devotional songs and audio podcasts of religious texts!

What was happening to me?! This was me, guzzler of tequila shots combined with pints and pints of beer! Driver of a super cool, green-coloured Chevrolet Spark, who only knew the 5th gear!

Coolness quotient be damned! I wasn't barren, I was pregnant, my husband would be mine till the divorce papers are not signed! Who cares about my  newly improved playlist. This was me, Version 2.0!

I should smugly add here that right before this point in time, I had managed to LOSE WEIGHT! Yes, me, whale of all whales, thanks to my adipose tissue-loving half-Sindhi genes, had lost 15 (IN WORDS, LEST THE IMPORTANCE BE LOST, FIFTEEN) kilos! chumbawumba! I was thin, you could finally see that I too had a waist and size 28 jeans could finally be bought!!! MOTHER OF GOD, I AM GETTING GOOSEBUMPS WRITING THIS!

Of course, good things and weight loss don't last forever. The Sindhi genomes were back with a vengeance and my bottom ( I won't say a**, since I am all chic and refined now :p) and other unmentionable body parts were growing at breakneck speed.

Gone were my days of eating frugally. My dear mother had moved base to our city then, and of course, in true Bollywood style, came to the rescue of her pregnant daughter's health. Rates of eggs and carrots were rapidly climbing in our neighborhood, thanks to the speed at which mother dear was buying them.



The baby seemed to be growing fine. Nothing untoward happened. How could it? Considering that I was walking at snail's pace and covering myself up like I was living in a bloody igloo, even though it was sweating hot here.

But knowing my passion for weird luck, there was some pretty scary news in store for us...

Friday, 20 March 2015

kebab mein haddi aka polyp during pregnancy

Let's have a baby! This was early 2013, and me and the other (better?) half had decided that now was a good time to turn this duo into a trio.

So, off we went... to the gynaecologist, not someplace else ;) although, that would follow, considering that we did end up having a baby...! snigger ;)

Going to the gynae for a pre-conception check up was my idea and it was right. Because wives are always right, period.


On a serious note, for some inexplicable reason, I was convinced I was barren and would have dreams (or nightmares?!) that my MIL was getting my husband married off to a woman of her choice. HAHA! And that, in the end, there would be lots of Tamil babies, and not two-thirds Tamil and one-third Bengali like our little dude is.

SO...! we are at the gynae, and of course, I am made to undergo a gazillion tests, else how would everyone earn their commission?!

And there it was, proof of my closeted fears, a polyp, whatever that meant, in my uterus.

DRUMROLL...! The wife is barren! MAYBE NOT!

Cue, time to get our scans read by the gynae and explained to us in not-so-medical terms.

Sample this conversation: (p.s. IT'S NOT MADE UP!)
DOC: So... you have a polyp in your uterus
ME: Okay... ummm... okay, polyp, Hello, nice to meet you...? (In my head)
DOC: Think of a tiger...
ME: HUH?!
DOC: Think of the sperm as a visitor, and the polyp, as a tiger.
ME: (In my head) I have no idea where this is leading
DOC: Will the visitor enter if there's a tiger to welcome him?
ME: ummm, no?
DOC: Exactly! So, what's our course of action?
ME: ummmm?
DOC: A visit to the BEST laproscopic surgeon who will operate upon you and take the tiger out! Voila! you get pregnant!
ME: (In my head) Time to look for a non Dr. Dolittle kind of doctor

So, there it was, the kebab mein haddi in our pregnancy, the damn polyp!

The irony was, that little did we know, we were already pregnant! In the very early weeks, and hence, it wasn't caught in the scan! HA! I wasn't barren, there would be no Tamilian second wife and definitely no pure-bred kids. Secularism, here we come, Tamil sperm and Bengali ovum! whoop whoop!

Hello, clear blue positive test and two pretty little lines on a peeing stick! In a few days time, I had symptoms that I didn't notice, but all the experienced aunties did. And so did my mom. MOM WAS RIGHT! Dammit, I hate to admit this and put it in writing, but mom was RIGHT!



But, what about the tiger aka polyp?! 


Thursday, 19 March 2015

My name is mommy and I AM FAT!

My name is mommy and I AM FAT!

There it is, an admission in writing of my fat-ness, set in writing for posterity sake and for all to see and read and LOL over.


I am a new mom...well, not SO new now, considering that  I gave birth more than a year ago. And just like ALL, okay, not ALL, but some, new moms, I have a lot of issues to deal with. I am putting this in writing because I feel judged for airing the honest fact that mommyhood is tough and I feel that somewhere out there is another new mom who is struggling with post partum emotions just like yours truly here and would feel great to know that is is common and it is OKAY to feel this way.

In the current scheme of things, it's been a tough couple of days and nights. I am a nursing aka breastfeeding mommy, which means I am the primary source of food and comfort for my bub, especially in the middle of the night, when only the owls and I are awake.

It's tough surviving on broken sleep for a few days. Now change that into a year of broken sleeps and voila! there I am! I love being a mom, I love my boy to the moon and back, I love being a child when I am with him. In fact, I can't even recall what life was before he came in, all pink and gooey and screaming his lungs off.

The sleeplessness and the deposits of fat certainly DO NOT take away from this burst of emotions that I feel for bub. But, I feel sad looking at myself in the mirror. Worse, I feel guilty for feeling this way because it implies that I am not enjoying motherhood. Or does it?