Waxing and Waning

“Coco? Coco?” Adil tried to wake me. 

The room is dark, curtains drawn. He switches on the light, and I squint. As my eyes adjust to the brightness, I see that Adil is sharply dressed in a blue suit. It is surely close to 10 in the morning.

“Coco, are you awake? Give me a nod if you can hear me.” I moved my head a bit, hoping that would satisfy him. “Okay, then. I've put coffee with oats and toast in the microwave.  Heat it and have it. Don't forget. The doctor’s said you need to eat. Also, there’s leftover pizza in the fridge. Don’t forget to heat it before having it for lunch,” enunciating every word. I gave a slight twitch of my head to let him know I'd understood. 

He caresses my cheek and kisses me on the forehead with such care that it tears me up. As he opens the door, I feel a whiff of the chilly morning. Once I hear the click of the door, I again go into a stupor by snuggling deeper into my duvet. It has been like this for about two months now. 

When we had just married, it was the other way around. I was the early riser, up by 6 in the morning. I would read, prepare coffee and breakfast, and then I would wake up Adil. It was a structured life. By 9ish, we would be on our way to our respective offices – me writing risk analysis reports and Adil troubleshooting software issues in cars. 

We met in graduate school. It didn't seem like he enjoyed attention, but he had a magnetism that attracted people. Even though Adil began courting me, I was not committed to him in the beginning. I thought I should gauge my options before getting tied down. On the other hand, it felt as though Adil had made up his mind to spend his life with me. I was aware of the depth of his feelings. 

One day, I asked him, “Why do you like me?” He scrunched up his eyebrows and nose. It was clear I had caught him unawares. But not ready to back down, he had ventured, “You know, I like… I like that you know what you want.” Taking a pregnant pause, he continued, “it’s a refreshing change. I've been going through life thinking about what's expected of me, not bothering to think for myself if that's what I want as well. But when I'm with you, I feel different. I start questioning why I'm doing certain things. I hope it's making sense.” I was surprised at how well he had articulated his feelings. 

As a slight smile played on my lips, he continued. “Do you remember we had a conversation about kids the other day. Before thinking, I had told you that I obviously wanted children. You asked me why. And I told you that it's how it's been. We live to procreate and the circle of life goes on. Then I asked for your opinion. You explained how you didn't want kids and weren't ready for such a responsibility. You were so upfront and clear about it. I liked that.” Adil didn't know this, but it was this conversation that had clinched it. His maturity and openness to new ideas. 

Of course, Adil was fond of kids. So, I think he always hoped that I would change my mind. I was extremely adamant in my decision, though. Even after we married, he broached this subject a few times. But it always ended in a stalemate. Needless to say, when the baby was conceived due to our carelessness, Adil was overjoyed. When I missed my period and began peeing a lot, I was first in denial and shock. I had to hold on to the chair in front of me to steady myself when the at-home pregnancy test told me that I was going to become a Ma.

I was not comfortable with aborting the fetus. So, I went ahead with the pregnancy, suffering the discomforts of sore breasts, fatigue, and morning sickness. After about 8 weeks into the pregnancy, I began experiencing severe nausea. It became difficult for me to concentrate on work. I started cutting back by talking to my superiors. It was at around 14 weeks that I began having conversations with the child in my womb. I was feeling more energetic than nauseated. 

“Hi, Ma.”

Quite clear that the voice was coming from within, I was shocked. But, I stabilised my breathing and replied.

“Hi! So, how’re you doing in there?”

“It’s all good,” she replied. I was sure it was a girl.

“I think I’ll name you Maha – moon-like. What do you think? Do you like it?”

“Yes, it’s a beautiful name.”

That’s all. That was our preliminary conversation. After a few weeks, she reached out to me.

“You didn’t want me, right?”

I was flabbergasted at how she knew this. I pinched myself to get back to reality, quite sure that this type of conversation was a figment of my imagination. But she persisted.

“Tell me, Ma, you didn’t want me, right?”

I decided to deal with her tactfully, “It’s true, I didn’t want you in the beginning because I was not ready for the responsibility. But now that you’re here, I can’t wait to meet you.”

Not gullible enough, she asked, “But how will you care for me if you can’t be responsible for me?”

Astounded, I replied, “I really have no clue. I think I’ll have to wing it.” 

There was silence on the other end. 

In the 17th week of pregnancy, she asked me, “Why do you think I should take birth?”

My restlessness and frustration got the better of me, and I replied, “I have no clue. I feel I’ve been going through life without any end game. Your father said that he liked me because I knew what I wanted but frankly, I don’t have any idea, and I’m just improvising as I go along. So, when you do take birth, you’ll be stuck in this vicious circle of what and why about your motive of taking birth as soon as you start understanding things. I’m sorry I can’t help you with this.”

As the pregnancy progressed, I tried to understand if I had maternal feelings. Quite simply, I didn’t. Not only did it shock me, but it also scared me. What was I to do once Maha was born? What if I didn’t feel protective toward her? What if I didn't do right by her? I also tried to control my thoughts. What if she could hear me? I'm sure she can. After all, she is an extension of me. These thoughts could leave a psychological impact. 

Of course, I didn’t share my insecurities with Adil. I don’t know why.

If only I would have shared my qualms with Adil, he would have told me, “Don't worry, you will love the baby the best way you can with the cards you've been dealt. You will be the best Ma for our baby!” But I continued to suffer in silence.

As my ankles and feet began swelling up, Maha started stretching her legs. She tried to become more comfortable in the womb and my anxiety increased. 

After Adil leaves for office, it is the same dream that wakes me up with a bad taste in my mouth.

I am in a boat with my parents, Adil, and my younger brother. Without any history of illness, I have a seizure. Unable to keep my balance, I topple into the water. The current is strong. My mother jumps into the water. The others are trying to keep the boat steady. But she is unable to catch hold of me. I gain control of my limbs. Even though I know swimming, I'm not able to stay afloat. I keep pushing and shoving my hands and legs but to no avail. 

Just as I'm about to drown, I wake up. Unable to be with my thoughts, along with my duvet, I settle in front of the TV. Since about a month back, after my employment was terminated because I failed to show up for work, I have seen almost all romantic comedies that you can think of. Some days I watched the same movie twice. TV was my painkiller, my descent into an abyss. Not wanting to face my guilt and hurt, it was my crutch, a witness to my wastefulness and my aimless, thoughtless existence. The bare emptiness and stifling silence hurt my bones. But I stopped caring for myself even as my family extended their hand, hoping that I would catch hold. I knew it would be the easy way out. They would know what to say and help me feel better. But this is my mess to deal with. I just don't know how. 

Today, it's When Harry Met Sally. All of a sudden, the power goes off. With no moving images to capture my attention, thoughts kept at bay rush in.

“How will I ever face myself?” 

“Am I even a woman if I'm not maternal?”

Not willing to face my thoughts anymore, I gather my knitwear closer and walk to the window. In the cavity by the window, I glance at a starling. Its green and purple hues glistening against the black plumage, as it tries to shield itself from the cold. Though it is not snowy, there is a chill in the air. But that doesn't stop the kids from playing in the park opposite our apartment building. It doesn't seem that the power will be back up soon. How about a walk in the park?  I always feel relaxed when I look at people from afar. It calms me to imagine other people's lives.

After wearing my coat and scarf, I venture outside the house, out of my duvet for the first time in two months. A gush of winter air hits my face, sending shivers through my body. Though the trees are barren, it seems they are in silent preparation, sleeping, to burst forth with life in spring. 

As I begin walking in the park, my thoughts invariably turn to Maha because there isn't anything else that holds my attention. But unlike the constricting feeling in my throat that I felt in the four walls of the house, the coolness of this winter afternoon in the open park acts like a balm, calming me. 

As I put one foot in front of the other, I feel relieved as I replay my conversations with Maha in my head. I hadn't had the guts to do so until then. The winter air is doing me good. As I walk back home, it occurs to me that I have spent an entire hour not watching TV or sleeping. Probably, I could go for a walk again tomorrow. Probably.

I may even forgive myself, overcome my guilt, and realize that some things are not in my control. Hope endures.

I remember that Tuesday in the 25th week of the pregnancy like it was yesterday. I began suffering from acute abdominal and back pain. After being rushed to the hospital, the doctor told us that we'll have to operate quickly as there had been a placental abruption, which could be life-threatening for both Maha and me. At that point in time, all I kept thinking was how I couldn't protect Maha even in the womb. Did she yet think she was unwanted and was deciding she didn't need to be where she wasn't welcome? 

Even though we went into the operating theatre together, only I survived the ordeal. Maha was stillborn.