Confessions of a tired mommy - Part I

Hello, my name is mommy.

I am a fat, tired and sleep deprived mom to a little monster named little P, who is now 15 months old.

I am a new mom. All this mommyhood stuff is new to me. I have taken care of babies before, and by taking care, I don't mean cuddled them and kissed them for 5 minutes, and as soon as they cried, promptly handed them over to their mommies.

No. I mean, I have seriously taken care of about 7-odd babies in a babysitter kind of way. I cleaned them, bathed them, fed them milk from their bottles, rocked them to sleep, held them while their mommies took 2 minutes off.

But, doing all this with my own baby is new to me, and I am one shit scared mommy. I worry too much. I might be the happiest mommy on the block, yet, I worry.

As a mom, rather, as a new mom, there are a few things I have done, I keep doing, or I might do in the future, that I am not proud of. Nothing serious, but little things that do matter, if only, at times.

So, today, I will confess to all these "crimes":

1) I haven't brushed my hair today. Or yesterday. Even the day before.

To be honest, I can't recall the last time I gave my tresses a good brush. I THINK I gave them a nice dose of shampoo on the weekend, but that's a faint recollection.

Don't get me wrong. I am not trying to be the next Lord Shiva with knotty hair and curly fingernails. Neither am I trying to look like a hippie who smokes weed and pretends to look like Bob Marley!

The thing is, my toddler is going through a very, very pesky phase. He howls and shrieks if I am out of eye sight. In his world. brushing my hair is a sign that I am heading out and leaving him behind.

So, in order to bring some peace to his crazy toddler world, I am not brushing my hair. There you go!

2) I sometimes want JUST TWO MINUTES to myself. But, as moms, that's not happening for the next 20 years, I suppose.

I want to pee in peace, without the door being banged, followed with screams of "mamma!".

Ditto, poop. The commode has sent out a search warrant for me, the person who used to spend hours sitting on it, reading the newspaper.

3) Some times, when little P wakes up way too many times at night, and the only way to get him back to sleep is to feed him, I feel like crying.

He is still not sleeping through, and on good days (nights?!), wakes up roughly 4 times. But, heaven help us when he's sick, or teething, which isn't too often, thank God!

This one time, I counted 12 times. I just wanted to dig a hole and bury myself in it. Then, I remembered, that in all probability, I will hear shouts of "mamma!", followed by some banging, and that, I might have to feed him to calm him down.

So, I thought to myself, "Aah! Now, I possibly can't feed him in a hole, so might as well be here, and feed him lying down, my eyes still closed, in the comfort of the air conditioner!"

4) Speaking of feeding...

For the past few days, I am scared shitless every time I have to feed him, because he's going through a biting phase, and damn! He bites me every time! GAAAH!

Some times, I scream and shout in pain, which scares him, and he cries. Other times, I try and ignore it, and just walk away. But, I still get cries! HUH! Little cheeky bugger!

5) I hate stepping out of the house. I HATE IT! I've got some fellow new moms in the neighborhood, and most of them have managed to knock of the pounds, while, I am ONLY 15 KGS DOWN!

I hate dressing up, mostly because I am yet to fit into my old clothes. I can fit into my jeans though! But nothing else! Of course, the hair brushing, or rather, the lack of it, doesn't help.

6) I look at fellow mommies' pictures and feel extremely jealous. I just do, I can't help it.

7) I can't remember the last time I paid attention to the husband, poor guy, bless him! I don't know where he is when he's doing multi city tours. I forget to make his morning coffee, I get delayed in serving him lunch. Shyte!

And don't even get me started on the sex!

8) I am scared of making conversation with adults. Even more, when those adults don't have kids themselves. My mind is thinking "Monster trucks and tractors", because little P is going through a "I love tractor" phase.

Worst, instead of coherent words, nursery rhymes come to my head. NOT GOOD!

9) I worry too much that I may never get back to a job. Or, even if I do, I will worry that little P isn't being taken care of.

10) I confess that having a baby has made some serious dents in my self confidence. Don't ask me why. It just has. It's the most beautiful thing that has happened to me, yet, I am not the woman I used to be.

11) I don't bother about how I look these days. I shower twice a day, but that's about it. I have been living in my PJs for 15 months now. I miss them when I wear "decent" clothes!

12) Remember the breast pump that saved my sanity and helped us breast feed? Well, it has been lying in its pack on the bedside table, for the last 13 months, because I am so scared that something will go wrong, and our feeding will suddenly stop!

So, I just clean the packaging, and let it remain there, lest it jinx me!

13) I am supposed to be on a "diet", not in a starving way, but a gentle way to eat less, and stay away from crap. I confess that I dream of cheese. It haunts me! I have to lose another 10 kgs, and that fatty b**ch won't let me!

There you go!

I feel better already. Now, let me quickly get to sleep and slip into deep slumber, which will take 2 hours, because all the day's nursery rhymes will come back to haunt me! Last night, my mind kept playing "head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes" on a loop!!!

Where's my weed?!

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.

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.