Dear Vishvashanti,
Today you are 11 days old. Your nani just left a few hours ago and it was really emotional for me. As we grow older, our relationship with our parents change. Now I am not just a daughter to my mother but a mother in my own right and our bond has a new layer to it. There is so much I want to tell you about these last 11 days but time is limited because, although I just put you down, another feeding is imminent. As mom says, you have no patience when it comes to your belly.
I know that your dad told you a bit about your birth but there are a few things I want to add. First, if I had to choose one word to describe childbirth, it would be messy. I thought I had read enough about what to expect when a person starts to go into labor, but I was unprepared of what the breaking of your water actually felt like. It was a trickle. It was definitely a gush. But more importantly, it was nonstop. Long after we went to the hospital, I was still leaking fluid. I had no idea I was carrying so much liquid around! They say that with time, the difficulty of a situation becomes muted and I can already feel that effect when it comes to the pain of labor but while it is still relatively fresh in my mind, let me tell you it was (insert Trini accent here) REAL pain. The initial contractions were bearable. Difficult but I could make it through but I was progressing slowly and soon there was a significant period of time where I hadn’t felt any contractions. The doctors were concerned because my water had broken and they ideally don’t like to go past 24 hours without delivery. So, after several hours of laboring without much change, I reluctantly accepted a low dosage of Pitocin to help encourage the contractions. This helped tremendously. The contractions were increasing in frequency and strength. The only problem is that I hadn’t slept the night before and I had now been at the hospital for almost 12 hours. I was losing stamina and could barely handle the less intense contractions. That’s when I decided to do the second intervention – an epidural. Before going to the hospital, I was hesitant about getting an epidural because of the long term problems I had heard from many other people. I was scared of something going wrong and of me not being able to feel what was going on with my body. I explained my worries to our nurse, Trish, who tried to reassure me and also was honest about what my options were. Her humor and straightforwardness encouraged me and when I found myself fading, I decided to really confront my hesitation about getting the epidural. This is the first lesson I want you to learn about your birth. When I really started dissecting why I didn’t want to get the epidural, I realize that while I had legitimate concerns, a large part of it was my worry and fear about the judgement that came with getting one. I felt like I should be able to give birth without one, like my mother and my ancestors. Getting one felt weak. I also wanted to say that I hadn’t needed it. It was something that I could feel good and even superior about. I had done what many others couldn’t. Once I realize what was behind my feelings about the epidural and how silly it was, how limiting, I could make the decision to let it go. This is something I hope you will remember to do when you too are making difficult decision or perhaps thinking about your motivation for a particular action. Our world is a judgey one. We are constantly trying to one up each other and attaching morality to things so that we can feel better about ourselves or/and our position in the world. It is freeing to let go of those things. It allows us to make decision based on what makes most sense in the moment, to follow our gut, and, most importantly, it helps us to be more compassionate towards others.
I was next moved to a laboring room. At this point I was 6 cm dilated so the Pitocin was pretty effective and I was considered to be in active labor. Trish introduced us to the anesthesiologist, a man named Glenn who was pretty much the human version of that turtle from Finding Nemo. Glenn patiently answered all my questions about the epidural and made [interrupted for a feeding and only now returning to this, a full day later] me feel a lot better about getting one. I didn’t feel any pain and Varun said watching Glenn insert the epidural was like watching a tai chi master. He was skillful and precise. The epidural allowed me to rest even though my body was undergoing the most intense contractions yet. With it I was able to get all the way to 10 cm dilated without doubling over in pain.
Our nurse JoJo, along with Varun, immediately moved my legs in multiple positions so I could start pushing. I pushed for approximately 2.5 hours. It was difficult. I threw up, I got the shakes, I popped blood vessels in my eyes, my face became splotchy and red and my V birthmark return prominently to my face. I didn’t think I was making any progress or that you would ever come, but your father and JoJo never faltered. They kept encouraging me. Your father kept telling every moment he saw a little bit of your head. And then finally – finally, finally, finally – there you were! Your father cut your cord and you were put immediately on my chest. You didn’t cry at first but after a gentle rubdown by the nurses, you started crying but immediately quieted down once you started breastfeeding (almost two weeks later that still remains true). It was a surreal experience to meet the person you have been connected to for 40 weeks + 1 day but who you don’t yet know. Some people get emotional pretty immediately after seeing their child, but for me I think the emotion has grown steadily. The more time I spend snuggling you and taking care of you, the more you carve your way into my heart. It still doesn’t quite register that you are our child, a shared piece of Varun and I.
Before I tell you a little bit about what happened after the hospital, I want to share two more lessons about your birth. I don’t think I would have had such a good experience at the hospital if it wasn’t for the nurses there. After doing skin-to-skin with you for an hour, you were weighed and given to your father for skin-to-skin. While he was holding you, JoJo took me to the bathroom to clean me up. There was so much blood and I didn’t yet have full movement in my legs. I watched in amazement as this nurse who spent hours with ALL the energy to keep me motivated and encouraged cleaned me off, the blood covering her hands. She didn’t cringe, she didn’t hesitate, she wasn’t rough or impatient. The doctor saw me for a total of probably 20 mins when I gave birth. She caught you, got my placenta, and stitched me out. But it was JoJo (and Trish before her) who did all the hard work. It made me sad to think that her pay is only a fraction of the cost of the doctor’s because it doesn’t at all reflect the amount of labor she put in. Labor and economics is a discussion for another day, but here I just want you to remember that we are always indebted to a network of people who make it possible for us to both survive and thrive. I know lots of people thank god when a baby is born, but I want you to know and to thank Melanie (who took my initial vitals), Trish, JoJo, Glenn, and Dr. Akins. You are here sleeping next to me because they were all very good at their jobs and supported me.
Speaking of support, the next lesson I want you to learn from your birth is about the importance of a supportive partner. Your father is quick to praise me and tell you very little about himself and his role in your birth. I don’t know what I would have done without him. He was there every step of the way, helping me to manage the pain, holding my legs so that I could push, and getting me anything I needed. He never slept. He spent hours in a squatting position while applying counter pressure to my back. He didn’t mind all the blood, liquids, and poop that accompany birth and only offered words of encouragement. It has been incredible to watch him become a father and it has only made me fall in love with him even more. Who knows what the future holds for you Vishva, but my greatest wish is that you find someone as good to you and who loves you the way your father loves me. When you have that kind of love and support, anything is possible, everything is bearable, and all is enjoyable.
The last couple of weeks have been very emotional for your father and I. We have been working with little sleep and both our hormones have been all over the place. My experience of postpartum thus far has been having waves of every possible emotion. I find myself cycling through anger, sadness, happiness. I cry at the drop of a hat at the moment. We haven’t had a lot of time to heal. My mom, your nani, came on the 17th in preparation for your birth and then your amma and baba arrived the day that you were born. I would like to say that two families interacting with each other went smoothly but that would be a straight lie and I want you to know the truth because my final lesson to your from your birth is that families are complicated. Your nani and amma, although both of Indian origin, come from different cultures, speak different languages (despite them speaking English), are of different classes, and have very different personalities. There is constant miscommunication. To be honest, navigating that interaction caused more stress on your father and I than your birth. We even became snappy with each other, something that rarely happens, because we were too exhausted to properly managed the stress of it all. When your chacha and tia came to visit, it was a relief to have the distraction. Would we like for things to have been better, smoother? Of course! In an ideal world, we would all just be able to interact and get along without any serious misunderstanding but Vishva, people are complex and families are complicated. No one is perfect and everyone is carrying around their own stuff. Your father and I joined families and now this joint family is your family. You, one day, will experience their differences for yourself. But know this, what they both share, despite all their differences, is immense love for you. Each of them would do anything to protect you and in the end, all their differences fall to the wayside of that fact.
I see that you are about to wake up again. You must be going through a growth spurt at the moment because you have been nonstop feeding today. That’s actually the reason for the title of this post. Your birth and these last couple of weeks seems to have been marked by a never-ending amount of milk and blood as I heal and also give you nourishment. So I’ll end here and use the last couple of minutes before you wake up to say –
I love you. I am so glad you are here. You have made so many people happy. Thank you for being our son.
All my love,
Mom