tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49783274084800774082024-03-08T07:30:30.650-08:00Life ItselfZoya Brarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04124589649184155148noreply@blogger.comBlogger160125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978327408480077408.post-23894479453960611042021-05-17T22:30:00.003-07:002021-05-17T22:38:12.568-07:00Rollercoaster - Part 5<p>After what felt like an endless night, we woke up relaxed. And then my brain panicked. They hadn't called from the NICU since 5.45 am. Rumi was waking ever 2-3 hours on an average. So at 9.30 am that could have only meant that they didn't get the memo from the night nurses and demand feeding was again under contention. </p><p>Thankfully mom had come back to the hospital and I felt better when Lohit offered to go to the NICU to speak to the nurses and also understand if and when they would shift us to Paediatrics so we could be with Rumi in the same room. Lohit wrote to me that he had met the Paediatrician and they were open to shifting us. However they weren't sure if they would be able to find a room.</p><p>By now I had begun to question my decision to not buy a breast pump and not read up enough on this topic. So when when hospital offered to get me to meet a lactation consultant, we jumped at the opportunity. She helped me understand how to pump and also got me to do it in front of her. </p><p>Armed with my first bottle (more like a few drops) of breast milk, I excitedly headed to the NICU. I handed over the bottle to the nurse and asked her to find out when we would move to Paeds. She was bubbly and eager to help. As she turned to go, her hand knocked over my precious bottle of milk. I felt so angry. I wanted to lash out at her. Instead I just cried a little. (The great thing about giving birth during the pandemic meant that my mask hid my face and if placed strategically, it also hid my tears.) </p><p>I just said it is ok when she profusely apologised. Of course she had no way to know just how much angst I had gone through - some physical, but mostly emotional - to get that milk there. I had to get over my need to feed him directly from the breast, to be there to nurture him. I had to accept that we will be separated at least for some time. The pumping was an acceptance. The milk was my medal. And there it was spilt. </p><p>Not crying over spilt milk took on a whole different meaning for me in that moment! </p><p>I reminded myself that she could be instrumental in shifting us. And I thought if I were nice to her despite what had happened she may go that extra mile to shift us. I don't know if this is what worked but she came back a few minutes later and confirmed that they would be shifting us in a few hours. What a sigh of relief. I would be in the same room, available whenever Rumi needed me. She then went on to ask if I wanted her to give Rumi his first bath. I said yes. His head still had blood in it and while I couldn't get enough of his newborn smell, I did wonder if the blood would cause him to get some infection. </p><p>He enjoyed his first bath and I sat on and watched. I didn't have the energy to stand up and do it myself. And I did wonder if this was the way his first bath should have been. But I felt such an overwhelming calm knowing I would be with him all through the night that I was willing to get over anything. </p><p>The next few hours went by easily. Mom helped me pack and Lohit stayed with Rumi in the NICU as they worked on discharge formalities for both of us. I eagerly followed up with the maternity nurses until they finally gave me the green signal and allowed me to not be a patient anymore. I too could move to Paeds with Rumi. </p><p>Lohit was with Rumi when they moved him. He later told me that Rumi's IV had gotten blocked while he was in the NICU and the poor baby had shrieked as they had to change it after poking him a bunch of times. They did suggest that Lohit leave and come back and not watch as they changed the IV. He of course insisted on standing right next to Rumi. There have been many moments during our conjoined parenthood journey when I have looked at Lohit and felt thankful for picking him, this was certainly one of those. </p><p>When Lohit called us to Paeds, he also shared that they wouldn't allow mom to come with us. Since I wasn't a patient anymore, I could obviously not have my doula. And thanks to the pandemic, they were treating Paeds as if it were a top secret military facility, only allowing the bare minimum. </p><p>Mom and I decided we could carry all our stuff and she would wheel me to Paeds. This way perhaps the nurse would allow her a moment to meet Rumi as she brought in our stuff. This totally didn't work. The nurse instead told mom that she would settle me in. And as she shut the doors on mom I felt such an enormous grief. Funnily, it wasn't for myself. I felt mom's pain as if it were my own. I could tell how helpless she must feel outside those doors knowing she couldn't be there for me. She also hadn't held or seen Rumi since the time they took him into the NICU and I knew she was longing to just hold him. </p><p>And then as she wheeled me in and I saw Rumi in the bassinet, all my gloom lifted for a few minutes. Just the sight of him made everything else disappear. </p><p>It wasn't until later that Lohit walked in and shared that they wouldn't be letting him stay the night either. This is when I looked around and realised there was no bed for me either. There was one couch that could be converted into a sleeping space. And that was it. There was a washroom but it would be shared by four other set of parents. There were quite a few moments when I looked at myself as if I was a third person and pitied the state I was in. That was one of those. I cried it out. And Lohit held me. He even offered that he would stay in the car or a hotel nearby and come back as soon as they would let him in. But I knew these were all impractical suggestions. I never felt more alone than I did then. </p><p>Hurting and in tremendous pain, I wondered how I would even manage to do it by myself? At the edge of despair, Rumi woke up and I was able to feed him and calm him. This made it all seem okay. </p><p>My emotions were like a rollercoaster. Thrilled and elated for few minutes, followed by dreadful and at the end of my wits the very next.</p><p>Was this what motherhood was supposed to feel like? </p>Zoya Brarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04124589649184155148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978327408480077408.post-16861535630632035062021-04-20T22:48:00.005-07:002021-05-17T21:10:25.139-07:00 Bedside Manner - Part 4<p><span style="background-color: white;"><span data-offset-key="9igi6-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;">For the first time in the last 24 hours, I was finally able to feel some amount of relief. Even though it hurt like hell, I </span><span class="adverb" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span data-offset-key="9igi6-1-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">joyously</span></span><span data-offset-key="9igi6-2-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> left my wheelchair and exchanged it for the glider in the NICU. I had been carrying around my blue blanket and with it under me, I almost felt okay. </span></span></p><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="1og5c-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="1og5c-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="1og5c-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">Until Rumi began to cry. </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="990bj-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="990bj-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="990bj-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="6bgg1-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="6bgg1-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="6bgg1-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">And I realised that the new nurse managing him was a man! I mean, I am all for equality, but the first thought in my head - how would he be able to help me breastfeed? I am already so lost, where will we go from here? </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="r3u9-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="r3u9-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="r3u9-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="8f4ct-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="8f4ct-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="8f4ct-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">Secret #2 - Gender has zero correlation with empathy.</span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="aoui2-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="aoui2-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="aoui2-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="dcht3-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="dcht3-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="dcht3-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">I tried to be vulnerable. Sharing with Arjun, the male nurse, why I was so shaky. What all had happened in the last 24 hours. How my quasi medical background made it worse. How I half understood everything and felt lost anyway. </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="eurnl-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="eurnl-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="eurnl-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="893gb-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="893gb-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="893gb-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">At first, he seemed unmoved. </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="504k2-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="504k2-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="504k2-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="fkb1e-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="fkb1e-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span data-offset-key="fkb1e-0-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">Then, as I tried </span><span class="adverb" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="fkb1e-1-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">endlessly</span></span><span data-offset-key="fkb1e-2-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"> - </span><span class="qualifier" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="fkb1e-3-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">perhaps</span></span><span data-offset-key="fkb1e-4-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"> for an hour or so - to get Rumi to feed, Arjun walked up to me. And he offered simple suggestions. Had I had a chance to learn how to express my milk? Had I learnt to pump? Had I considered formula?</span></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="dkupq-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="dkupq-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="dkupq-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="b1lq5-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="b1lq5-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span data-offset-key="b1lq5-0-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">And unlike the nurse in maternity, Arjun's questions didn't seem judgemental. Nor his reaction when I almost lashed out. I told him I wanted to </span><span class="complexword" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="b1lq5-1-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">exclusively</span></span><span data-offset-key="b1lq5-2-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"> breastfeed, and no I had no interest in pumping or expressing. t wanted it to be as natural as possible. </span></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="261oe-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="261oe-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="261oe-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="dbrti-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="dbrti-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="dbrti-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">He simple backed away and gave me space to try again. </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="co46i-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="co46i-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="co46i-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="7i1iu-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="7i1iu-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="7i1iu-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">Sometimes you need a minute. And he gave me that.</span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="860vi-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="860vi-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="860vi-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="1dhmc-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="1dhmc-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="1dhmc-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">On the toughest night of my life, he was like a quiet, calm, assuring presence. He knew what to do, and he did it. </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="65t05-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="65t05-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="65t05-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="chhgb-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="chhgb-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span data-offset-key="chhgb-0-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">At the right time, he came back, syringe in hand. He offered that we could pour some formula on the breast. The intent was to encourage Rumi to latch and </span><span class="complexword" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="chhgb-1-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">satisfy</span></span><span data-offset-key="chhgb-2-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"> him while the actual milk took its time to come. </span></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="29cjf-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="29cjf-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="29cjf-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="92je6-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="92je6-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="92je6-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">This seemed reasonable. And it appeared to work. </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="8bcrs-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="8bcrs-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="8bcrs-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="22cl8-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="22cl8-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span data-offset-key="22cl8-0-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">Then Lohit came back. He had been trying to call me but of course my phone was on silent. Also, feeding and using the phone </span><span class="adverb" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="22cl8-1-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">simultaneously</span></span><span data-offset-key="22cl8-2-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"> wasn't a skill I had yet mastered. </span></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="ai6kv-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="ai6kv-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="ai6kv-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="dnahl-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="dnahl-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="dnahl-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">He could tell that I was busy feeding Rumi and I would not move until Rumi had slept. He offered to go back to the room and wait for me to call so he could come back and pick me up once I was ready. </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="7nkr6-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="7nkr6-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="7nkr6-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="dpg94-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="dpg94-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span data-offset-key="dpg94-0-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">I spent the next hour or so feeding. And then Rumi slept </span><span class="adverb" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="dpg94-1-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">calmly</span></span><span data-offset-key="dpg94-2-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"> in my arms. The pleasure of that first time you have been able to soothe your baby. NOTHING compares to it. </span></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="b0thi-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="b0thi-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="b0thi-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="35qqa-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="35qqa-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span data-offset-key="35qqa-0-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">And then, I called Lohit. Five, </span><span class="qualifier" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="35qqa-1-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">maybe</span></span><span data-offset-key="35qqa-2-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"> six times. And he wouldn't answer. </span></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="7gjfd-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="7gjfd-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="7gjfd-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="15km6-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="15km6-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span class="adverb" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="15km6-0-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">Nearly</span></span><span data-offset-key="15km6-1-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"> midnight, an exhausted broken body, and a hanging-by-the-thread spirit, I broke down. For many minutes I felt completely helpless. I knew I couldn't walk to maternity. It would take strength that I didn't have. I knew I couldn't stay there. I was thirsty. (Breastfeeding makes you feel like you can drink </span><span class="adverb" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="15km6-2-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">endlessly</span></span><span data-offset-key="15km6-3-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"> and still not </span><span class="passivevoice" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="15km6-4-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">be done</span></span><span data-offset-key="15km6-5-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">. More, I couldn't even remember that I needed to keep myself hydrated.) I </span><span class="passivevoice" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="15km6-6-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">was drained</span></span><span data-offset-key="15km6-7-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">. And I felt more alone that I had ever felt before. </span></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="98nm9-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="98nm9-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="98nm9-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="d1isl-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="d1isl-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="d1isl-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">Teary eyed, I asked Julia (the NICU in-charge for the night) if she could think of any way to help me. Angel that she was, she wheeled me herself to maternity. (She told me this was not usual but given what Lohit had told her about our situation, she felt compelled to help). Some humans make you believe in the good in the world. She is one of them.</span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="e4rkn-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="e4rkn-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="e4rkn-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="2562k-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="2562k-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="2562k-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">When I reached back, Lohit of course had passed out. He woke up, dazed, terror-struck. Wondering what had happened to me. I told him it was okay. I said I needed to change and we would eat Sushi after that. </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="4ke3b-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="4ke3b-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="4ke3b-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="3v6os-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="3v6os-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="3v6os-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">As I went to the washroom, I realised I couldn't find a change of clothes. I was so dependent on mom for packing and managing everything that I couldn't find anything. I stayed in my blood stained clothes and decided to cry it out a bit. </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="3e8l8-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="3e8l8-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="3e8l8-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="erb09-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="erb09-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="erb09-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">Day 1 of being a mother had been one disaster too many. Yet, I felt grateful. For being able to go to Rumi when he needed. Even in the worst physical condition, I couldn't think of anything but that beautiful baby in the NICU. </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="16uet-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="16uet-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="16uet-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="4r6bl-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="4r6bl-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="4r6bl-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">Nature sure has a funny way of making us fall in love. </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="f2bq3-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="f2bq3-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="f2bq3-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="2a1qd-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="2a1qd-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="2a1qd-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">As we finally fell asleep after eating Sushi, my body couldn't be more thankful for that bed and my blue blanket.</span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="ek25g-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="ek25g-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="ek25g-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="uaan" data-offset-key="arm5n-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="arm5n-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span data-offset-key="arm5n-0-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">Thirty minutes later, the phone rang. It was from the NICU. And we learnt rather </span><span class="adverb" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="arm5n-1-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">quickly</span></span><span data-offset-key="arm5n-2-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"> that newborns don't sleep! </span></span></div></div>Zoya Brarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04124589649184155148noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978327408480077408.post-77683119744845845942021-03-02T02:41:00.007-08:002021-03-02T09:21:00.567-08:00Well kept secrets - Part 3<p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Why am I writing all this? What is the point of saying these things aloud? </span></span></p><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="8feo7-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="8feo7-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="8feo7-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">For many reasons. One, to remember. So I can always go back and re-experience the first joys of motherhood. Second to heal, forgive and forget. For those moments that were traumatic - to be able to let go. Third, to inspire more sharing. </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="3a4db-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="3a4db-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="3a4db-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="9m53e-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="9m53e-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span data-offset-key="9m53e-0-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">Pregnancy and labour came with so much advice and so many stories - from every woman I knew. In contrast, the weeks and days and hours after the baby arrived seemed like an empty vacuum. It's almost as if all this is a well kept secret. (I am not sure if its </span><span class="qualifier" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="9m53e-1-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">just</span></span><span data-offset-key="9m53e-2-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"> me that this was a secret from, but I </span><span class="passivevoice" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="9m53e-3-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">was caught by</span></span><span data-offset-key="9m53e-4-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"> surprise by the first few weeks of Rumi.) And so, as I dealt with all my emotions, and physical sensations, I decided to break the silence in my own tiny way. </span></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="5fou9-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="5fou9-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="5fou9-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="eelf1-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="eelf1-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="eelf1-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">RCH was different from Peace Arch. In many, many ways. Among these was that they didn't allow our 'Doula' to stay with us at night. And in a way we thought it was okay. There was only one couch and mom hadn't yet slept since Rumi was born. </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="o01b-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="o01b-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="o01b-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="8srf2-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="8srf2-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span data-offset-key="8srf2-0-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">I finally made my peace with the twin sharing room, and almost began to see it for it's merits - the wonderful view, the extremely quiet neighbours (new parents it turns out, not a mother in labour!). I had also insisted that Lohit stay with the baby as I settled in. So he was down in the NICU. I </span><span class="passivevoice" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="8srf2-1-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">was calmed by</span></span><span data-offset-key="8srf2-2-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"> the many pictures and messages he sent me. Chief among them -</span></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="72r5a-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="72r5a-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="72r5a-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="9nio6-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="9nio6-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="9nio6-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">"I love him so much. He makes me cry this little devil. How will I ever not be teary eyed with him."</span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="beh5q-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="beh5q-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="beh5q-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="2oi9p-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="2oi9p-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="2oi9p-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">Secret #1 - Watching your partner fall in love with your baby makes you fall in love with them all over again.</span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="32nhc-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="32nhc-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="32nhc-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="bcm56-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="bcm56-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span data-offset-key="bcm56-0-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">One of the many battles we fought at RCH was the right to demand feed Rumi. They were of the opinion that the baby had to </span><span class="passivevoice" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="bcm56-1-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">be fed</span></span><span data-offset-key="bcm56-2-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"> every three hours. If there was no expressed milk, they would have to give him formula or wait for me to show up. This battle started </span><span class="adverb" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="bcm56-3-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">dismally</span></span><span data-offset-key="bcm56-4-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"> since my angry, upset and teary self was unable to get them to agree to my plan. My plan was simple - they would give me a call each time Rumi stirred and I would rush down to the NICU and feed him. </span><span class="adverb" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="bcm56-5-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">Apparently</span></span><span data-offset-key="bcm56-6-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"> they were not used to crazy mothers like me. This became clear as I looked around and realised I was the only mother there each time I visited. </span></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="96iee-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="96iee-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="96iee-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="3t1eg-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="3t1eg-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="3t1eg-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">But out came Lohit to my rescue. He suggested that he would sit in the NICU with Rumi and call me the moment he cried so I could go down to feed him. And this finally allowed me to take a nap.</span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="7ck9k-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="7ck9k-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="7ck9k-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="1m9jk-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="1m9jk-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="1m9jk-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">A few hours later Lohit came back to the room as Rumi slept. We talked. And mom said something that made me cry. She said, "it can't be easy for her to be willing to go up and down to feed the baby and she must be in terrible pain." I broke down. Mom and Lohit were both surprised since I had been upbeat all through. </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="ea4m1-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="ea4m1-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="ea4m1-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="c90bl-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="c90bl-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span data-offset-key="c90bl-0-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">It was the intensity of my pain that finally burst through. And the feeling of </span><span class="passivevoice" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="c90bl-1-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">being seen</span></span><span data-offset-key="c90bl-2-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">. Strange how simple empathy can leave you so moved. </span></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="bv655-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="bv655-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="bv655-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="8g485-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="8g485-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="8g485-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">After helping us settle in (and some more conversation), mom left for home. It is then that it struck me. They hadn't called me in hours. How was it that Rumi hadn't woken up for food yet? </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="fatnt-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="fatnt-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="fatnt-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="93mc6-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="93mc6-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span data-offset-key="93mc6-0-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">As I sat there, almost in tears, our maternity nurse finally decided to check on me. (This was many hours after being there). What a rude shock after the constant attention at Peace Arch. She walked in and asked me how I was. Naive me didn't realise that she wasn't actually interested in how I </span><span class="adverb" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="93mc6-1-0" style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">really</span></span><span data-offset-key="93mc6-2-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"> was. She was being polite. But I went right ahead and told her I wasn't okay. When she asked why, I told her how the NICU hadn't called. How I had no clue what they were doing with the baby and there didn't seem to be any communication. </span></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="7cs3k-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="7cs3k-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="7cs3k-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="5mft7-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="5mft7-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="5mft7-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">She started explaining the hospital policy on not communicating! and also asked me why I wanted to demand feed the baby anyway. She also had the nerve to ask me if I had read up on demand feeding and if I knew the downsides. I gritted my teeth and told her I had and then I broke down (again!). Damn those postpartum hormones. </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="29pbh-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="29pbh-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="29pbh-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="arp40-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="arp40-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span class="hardreadability" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="arp40-0-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">Instead of being able to </span></span><span class="adverb" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="arp40-1-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">calmly</span></span><span class="hardreadability" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="arp40-2-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"> tell her that she had no business being this insensitive, I must have come across as a sissy</span></span><span data-offset-key="arp40-3-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">. She turned around, looked at Lohit and said to him - "This must be a bad time to educate. I didn't realise that she has </span><span class="passivevoice" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="arp40-4-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">been separated</span></span><span data-offset-key="arp40-5-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"> from her baby so she must be feeling horrible." </span></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="er4pd-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="er4pd-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="er4pd-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="9ev7c-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="9ev7c-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="9ev7c-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">As if I was deaf and dumb or worse yet not even there. </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="9vpvl-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="9vpvl-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="9vpvl-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="6r92u-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="6r92u-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span class="hardreadability" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="6r92u-0-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">In all her </span></span><span data-offset-key="6r92u-0-1" style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">sensitivity,</span></span><span data-offset-key="6r92u-0-2" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"> she had also </span></span></span><span class="adverb" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="6r92u-1-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">blandly</span></span><span class="hardreadability" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="6r92u-2-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"> mentioned that they would be discharging me the next day and the baby would have to stay</span></span><span data-offset-key="6r92u-3-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">. As she left the room, she left us with the confounding possibility of having to drive one hour each way to get to the baby. How was I to breastfeed with all this? </span></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="6jseg-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="6jseg-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="6jseg-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="aqcb6-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="aqcb6-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="aqcb6-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">How do they teach people medicine without teaching them the basics of being human? </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="7pgok-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="7pgok-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="7pgok-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="17n83-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="17n83-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span class="adverb" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="17n83-0-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">Thankfully</span></span><span data-offset-key="17n83-1-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">, I had the husband by my side. He </span><span class="adverb" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="17n83-2-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">politely</span></span><span data-offset-key="17n83-3-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"> told her this was not a good time and she should go away. And then went on to help me feel better. He suggested that he wheel me down to the NICU. He then went on to speak with the nurse there to explain our situation and see if she would make an exception. </span></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="b3m3m-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="b3m3m-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="b3m3m-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="dl66m-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="dl66m-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="dl66m-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">By now we had reached out to our Midwife group again. The lovely Gillian was on leave starting that day and so we reached Lisa instead. Another example of perfect empathy and care, Lisa was like a pillar (albeit only over the phone). I made mom call her (as me). I was at this point so shaky that I didn't feel I had it in me to have a conversation without breaking down. </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="8kl5f-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="8kl5f-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="8kl5f-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="8ht2h-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="8ht2h-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span data-offset-key="8ht2h-0-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">Mom who hates calling and speaking to people unless she has to, didn't question me this time. (Moms have a way of knowing when to be there). She spoke to Lisa and Lisa told us that we could insist that they shift the baby to Paeds or keep me admitted. She also said something that stuck with me. </span><span class="hardreadability" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="8ht2h-1-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">She said, "the parents that are the worst to deal with because they keep pushing or asking for their rights, get the best care for their babies</span></span><span data-offset-key="8ht2h-2-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">. So don't be afraid to be annoying." Hearing this changed how we dealt with everything.</span></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="3iuf3-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="3iuf3-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="3iuf3-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="3o0qi-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="3o0qi-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span data-offset-key="3o0qi-0-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">Back at the NICU, I told Lohit to go inside and leave my wheelchair outside. I told him I would break down if I had to explain to one more nurse why demand feeding was important to me. Or if I had to beg to not </span><span class="passivevoice" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="3o0qi-1-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">be separated</span></span><span data-offset-key="3o0qi-2-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"> from Rumi. He understood. </span></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="7u6da-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="7u6da-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="7u6da-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="9u463-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="9u463-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span data-offset-key="9u463-0-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">The one thing I have always loved about Lohit is his gentle, calm manner. This time too he was able to get through to the head nurse at the NICU. (</span><span class="qualifier" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s ease 0s;"><span data-offset-key="9u463-1-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">I think</span></span><span data-offset-key="9u463-2-0" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"> she was Julia? - she was the reason I finally began to feel safe at RCH). She agreed to call us each time the baby woke up. She also promised to work with the morning team to move us to Paeds so we could be in the same room as baby. What a relief. </span></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="68lap-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="68lap-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="68lap-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br data-text="true" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="f8q0k-0-0" style="border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr" data-offset-key="f8q0k-0-0" style="border: 0px; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="f8q0k-0-0" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">Lohit shared his victory with me and left a very happy mama next to Rumi. (They only allowed one parent at a time). He then went right out to collect some Sushi and chocolate milk for me. Both things he knew would make me feel better. </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="bkol5" data-offset-key="arlk8-0-0" style="background-color: #fafafa; border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"></div>Zoya Brarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04124589649184155148noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978327408480077408.post-70434622639553238602021-03-02T01:01:00.007-08:002021-03-02T09:17:49.588-08:00The Downward Spiral - Part 2<p>I woke up to Rumi’s shrieks. No one warns you how terrible that first howling can feel. A helplessness and an extreme desire to protect can overcome you, leaving you unsettled. They were looking for a vein in the poor baby’s hands, arms, feet. Probing and poking. They didn’t explain what they were doing. And the otherwise overconfident me, felt too tiny to ask. I thought they were doing what needed doing and it wasn’t my place to ask. </p><p>(So much for all the reading and preparing I had done. When the time came to apply my learnings, it was like someone said "statue" and there I was, stuck).</p><p>Since when did the healthcare system have more power over the decisions for my own child than I did? Well, to a newly born parent of only a few hours, silence seemed like the only option.</p><p>Turns out they were trying to get blood for a culture test to rule out an infection. Rumi’s temperature hadn’t yet normalised. What followed was a flurry of nurses and fast paced conversations. </p><p>I don't know what it was - the hormones, the extreme pleasure that I was feeling, or my general optimistic way of being. But I didn't register the intensity of what was happening. It didn’t even occur to me as they put Rumi on a stretcher and me on a wheelchair and wheeled us to an ambulance. Nor when they took us up to the NICU at the Royal Columbian Hospital (RCH). Nor when they put Rumi in an incubator and proceeded to probe and poke him again. </p><p>My fantastic brain, convinced that they would shortly tell me that everything was okay, was preparing to go back home.</p><p>The nurse at RCH told me that Rumi’s foot was still bleeding from the prick at Peace Arch many hours ago. This made me so angry, I wanted to cry. It didn’t help that I was in the worst pain ever. I could barely sit on the sofa that was opposite Rumi’s bassinet in the NICU. </p><p>I had remembered to carry my soft blanket with me and even with it beneath me, the pain was excruciating. But in that moment, I couldn’t think of leaving or going someplace more comfortable. Truth be told, there was no place more comfortable than next to my baby.</p><p>The next thing I know the nurse had put in an IV for Rumi - without any discussion or conversation with me. And they had started a round of antibiotics. I don’t know what the concept of consent looks like in Canada but this felt wrong. I was in my state of silence - something I couldn’t shake out of for a long time. And I didn’t question. Somewhere I knew if I asked a question I would break down into tears and the pride in me didn’t allow me to do that. </p><p>Who taught us that crying was bad? That showing that we hurt or were scared would make us brittle? </p><p>I taught so many people that vulnerability was powerful. Especially at CORE. I thought of myself as an expert at breaking down people’s walls and getting them to communicate. But even the smartest, most rational person reverts to their childhood fears. When unanticipated trauma hits, we end up using our most stunted tools to cope. </p><p>I was in the middle of trauma worse than I have ever experienced before. And, I had no clue that I was actually undergoing something difficult. Defence mechanisms are a blast. </p><p>The nurse came to me and told me they had started antibiotics and they would keep Rumi in the NICU for now. </p><p>At this point, my mom was standing outside the NICU. Lohit was sitting in the car. They had strategised on their way to RCH. They concluded that it was best for mom to come up first since they may not allow two people in at this hospital. If they allowed the Doula first, Lohit could always push his way through later since he was the father. </p><p>Back at Peace Arch, we had a few minutes before getting into the ambulance. I told mom to ask Angad and Pearl (my brother and sister-in-law) to drive to the hospital so they could get a glance at Rumi before we drove away. And so they met little Rumi as he was being lifted from the ground into the ambulance. They both saw his hand rise and we had a good laugh about how he had waved at them. </p><p>(Even in the middle of terrible stress, my family finds a way to find joy. We get this from my mother. Her attitude of moving on and focusing on solutions has sometimes meant that we shove things under the rug, yet it has allowed us to survive the worst traumas with a smile on our face.)</p><p>As Lohit sat with Angad and Pearl in the car, and mom stood outside the NICU, the nurse came back to me. She asked if I would like to go up to Maternity and finish my admission formalities. I declined. This was a visceral reaction. How could she ask me to leave my little baby alone? </p><p>I don’t know how nature does it. But I was like a mama bear, protecting her little cub. And I would have torn anyone apart that tried to separate us. </p><p>The nurse asked me if I wanted to help change his diaper or try to calm him down. I looked at her clueless. How was I to do that? I had had zero moments to learn or try any of this. And mom was to be around to handhold me through this. I said "no, why don’t you do it and I will watch". </p><p>Even to stand next to the bassinet and watch was such agony. Every part of me hurt. But scared of judgement, I stood up and watched as I winced in pain. All the while, I wondered, had I not stood, what would the nurse think of my choice to sit on the side? Would that make me a bad mother? </p><p>How does the mind become so convoluted? </p><p>While I sat there they asked me if I wanted him to have a pacifier since he was crying as they inserted the IV etc. I said no. I felt their disapproval. I rescinded my decision when the next nurse told me that the baby would be in pain if they didn’t give the pacifier. Lost, scared and utterly confused, I said okay. And then felt guilt wash over me. I had read it would be bad for his gums, it could cause issues with breastfeeding. I also didn’t want him in pain. I felt guilty for not being able to soothe him and needing an artificial thing to calm him instead. All these thoughts were ebbing and flowing quicker than I could process. I was being led by a cast of people I had never met before and I felt alone and vulnerable. </p><p>Next up they asked me if I wanted to feed him. I said yes. I thought it would be easy like it was the night before. (The first time they put Rumi on my chest, he had quickly latched and fed peacefully.) I also thought it would calm him and help me feel better. I couldn’t have been more wrong. </p><p>Feeding in a room full of strangers with wires and beeping is an experience in itself. Add to that a newborn with an IV attached to his foot and a new mom with very little hands-on experience. And there you have it - a recipe for stress. He wouldn't feed, instead he simply cried. The nurse asked me if she could take him and try something else. She gave him a pacifier and it seemed to work. In retrospect, I know it was only temporary. </p><p>Having found a moment to think when he finally seemed calm, I asked the nurse if I could go and get myself admitted. She said yes, almost giving me the expression that said "finally you have come to your senses". </p><p>Mom wheeled me to the third floor to maternity. There, waiting for us, was some more unnerving news. They didn't have a single room. We could either be in a ward or in a twin sharing room. Being in a room with another labouring mom isn't my idea of fun on any day. But it felt especially cruel after I had spent a full day enduring labour. Why should I have to stay awake listening to another mama go through that? </p><p>And to do so in a pandemic is a whole different level of difficult. </p><p>What if the others in the room weren't as careful as we were? What if they weren't washing their hands enough? How about sharing a loo? How does one manage cleaning a tear and taking care of oneself in a shared space without even a shower? Where does one even leave their belongings as you trek up and down from the NICU to feed baby Rumi? </p><p>Strange problems. My problems were trivial compared to the conditions in which many women have to give birth in the world. </p><p>But historical luxury and privilege had left me unprepared. Especially for what was up ahead. </p><div data-block="true" data-editor="95dan" data-offset-key="cg5ka-0-0" style="background-color: #fafafa; border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; font-size: 17px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"></div>Zoya Brarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04124589649184155148noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978327408480077408.post-86826807977259544222021-02-01T20:29:00.001-08:002021-03-02T09:21:48.610-08:00Birthing Rumi - Part 1<p>The next many blog posts will chronicle my most significant journey yet - of becoming and being Rumi's mama. I considered starting a separate blog but then decided against it. While there is a lot to be said, my identity as his mom is not separate from the rest of me. In being his mama, I have become more of me. And in embracing this with the rest of me, and finding and resolving the contradictions, I have felt more myself than ever before. So I chose to put this here. Where the rest of my life and memories live. </p><span><a name="more"></a></span><p>“This is pressure, not pain.” A simple mantra I kept repeating as I went through labour. My waters broke at 3.30 am as Loi (the father to be) and I binge watched Bridgerton. I was one week overdue at this point. We had tried nearly every trick in the book to get baby out. The latest was eating a spicy labour inducing burger (yep, there is such a thing), taking a bumpy ride and eating extremely spicy daal. I had been having contractions (false/real who knows?) for weeks. </p><p>A wager was on. The entire family had bet on what day Rumi would officially grace us with his presence. 15+ people had picked dates starting Dec 6 to Dec 27. When Bade Papa (my grandfather) picked Dec 27 we had all mocked him. Exactly why would the baby be born that late? (For the record my own date was Dec 6.. So much for mothers intuition!) </p><p>Cut to Dec 26, 3.30 am. Bridgerton had been switched off and Lohit was trying to massage me to sleep. Finally as I was able to hit sleep land, I felt a gush of water. Total movie style. I was pretty sure movies were not how it would be for me. But I was wrong. After soaking three towels and trying (unsuccesfully) for a few hours to rest, we finally rushed to the hospital at 9.45 am. My midwife, Gillian, asked us to reach by 10. She would conduct a non stress test and then induce me if labour hadn’t begun on its own. </p><p>This was my third time to the hospital with a possibility of a baby at the end. Even though it felt much more real this time, part of me was afraid that this time too I would be sent back home to wait. No one warned me that waiting for the baby to actually arrive would be so difficult. </p><p>After a quick evaluation, Gillian, gave us two options. She could induce the labour. But we would need to have the baby out before 6.30 am on 27th Dec. There was no paediatric cover at the hospital after that. Or she could shift me to another hospital and we could wait and watch. </p><p>Now, here is the thing about giving birth in a pandemic. Suddenly logic doesn’t start with what’s the best medical decision, it starts with, where is the risk of getting Covid the lowest. What a funny time to be going through the toughest (or so I thought) day of my life. </p><p>We quickly decided that we would stay at the Peace Arch Hospital. We knew there was no NICU and possibly no paediatric cover starting 7 am (in about 20 hours from then). But with an uneventful pregnancy, no family history, and Covid for a backdrop, the decision was simple. Stick to the warm, friendly, safe, community hospital. </p><p>Mom, who spent many weeks preparing to be a doula! Yes, Doula! My CEO mom who has run many a large hospital systems back in India, who has delivered hundreds of babies, and who has taught thousands others on how to manage their lives and careers, was left in an alien system with only one choice. Want to attend your daughters birth? Become a certified support person. The pandemic needs for a certificate to attest that she can join me in the labour room. Alternatively, I could pick her instead of Lohit. Who wants to make choices like that? </p><p>So she spent most of October and November reading up, training and learning how to be the best Doula known to man. And there she was finally allowed into the room with me. In that moment it all felt worth it. </p><p>I consider myself blessed to have these options. Even though in any other year these choices would have sounded ridiculous. Pick either your mom or your husband to join you? In 2020, the fact that I could have not one, but two people I loved in the room with me, made me feel like the luckiest person alive. </p><p>We spent the next many hours (6 to be precise), mostly hanging out and talking about life and things. My only complaint during these hours was not being able to munch on all the yummy snacks mom had packed along and Lohit had diligently ferried up from the car in many rounds. </p><p>Gillian had graciously offered to provide nursing to me since the hospital was short on nurses. This allowed us to spend the whole day under her loving care. You know what they say about bedside manner? Gillian showed me that a loving person who genuinely cared could make contractions seem like fun. There was no room for fear or panic in the room. It was as if my pain kept increasing without me even noticing. </p><p>And then hit 4 cm. I believe it was around 5pm? I have no clue at this point to be honest. I asked Sunny, my truly sunny nurse and Gillian, “If I am at a 4-5 on the pain scale now, where will I get to by the time he’s born?”</p><p>They tell you over and over again about birth - every birth is different. No one can really tell you how you will feel, how worse it can get, where we will end etc. But who wants to believe that? Who wants to hear that no one seems to have a clue? So I kept pressing Sunny and Gillian until Gillian said.. “Well let’s assume it will reach 10.”</p><p>At this point my foggy with pain (pressure!) brain reminded me that I didn’t need to be a martyr. That no one would give me an award for doing this fully naturally. That my son wouldn’t be any less proud of me and my birth story wouldn’t be any less meaningful if I got an epidural. I looked at Lohit. I knew his take on this already. My wonderful husband had been telling me for weeks that I didn’t have to go through that pain. That I should chose to be comfortable over feeling everything. </p><p>I then went to the loo with mom. And asked her, "should I get an epidural"? Turns out she had been thinking the exact same thing and had written to Anjila aunty (my long distance angel who is a gynaecologist by day) and Deep uncle (an anaesthesiologist in India) to ask them what they thought. They had both told mom that I should take the epidural. So mom said yes and I rushed out to tell Gillian to get me the pain relief. </p><p>I was anticipating disappointment and judgement. Perhaps even an attempt to change my mind. But to my surprise, Gillian quickly got into action, confirmed that the doctor was coming to the Maternity floor in a few minutes to see another patient and I would in fact get my epidural very quickly.</p><p>What you can’t anticipate about pain like that is how it slows down time to a trickle. Apparently I had to wait only 20 minutes or so. I remember Loi and mom massaging my back non stop in turns and me asking every few minutes where the doctor was. Why wasn’t he here already? </p><p>As per protocol the doctor arrived and gave me a full low down on the risks. I could get paralysed, have a headache permanently, etc etc. I already knew these things. I had read everything there was to read on this topic and I knew the risk I was taking. I knew it was low. But I was also afraid that I would be that odd person that actually ends up with a sad outcome. Funny the way our brains are wired to protect us. But the immediate concern of not feeling that horrible pain triumphed. Funny how a rational me would never make that trade off. But when you are in the throes of labour, I guess rationality isn’t your strongest suit. </p><p>The epidural half worked. My left side was numb, right was partially numb. So I still felt pain but much lesser. In a few hours, around 7 pm. Gillian finally announced that I was a 10cm dilated. This meant it was baby time! I had read that it could take 2-3 hours post this point. But sometimes it happened within a few minutes. This announcement gave me renewed energy. In between pushing and contracting, I was cracking jokes and laughing. Everyone around me was a bit surprised at how calmly I seemed to be doing this. (Turns out my third phase of labour would actually last much longer than the average).</p><p>In all honesty, I did feel calm. I felt at peace - in a way that is hard to describe. Just knowing that I was being able to do this and it felt … easy! … was deeply fulfilling. </p><p>At some point I developed a fever. I remember Gillian asking Sunny to start the fever protocol. </p><p>There was a running joke - another woman was trying to give birth at the same time on the floor and I had announced that Rumi and I would beat her to it. (Those that know me, know that I am always in for a good competition). There was also the wager - Rumi had to make his great grandfather happy. Which meant we had to wait until midnight before baby and I were ready to share what we already knew (a limitless love) with others. </p><p>Somewhere in the next few hours, they saw his head. With hair! Everyone was super excited about the hair. They offered to put a mirror so I could have a peek. They offer this so the mother feels energised to push more. I declined. I just wanted to feel my baby fully on my chest once he was born. Seeing parts of him emerge was not my thing. </p><p>Come midnight, Gillian called in the Gynaecologist. Apparently it had been too long since my waters had broken. Also the fever I had developed was a bad sign. There was a high risk of both baby and me developing an infection. So they wanted the baby out sooner rather than later. Enter the unfamiliar male doctor. I don’t know in retrospect if it was the moment that made everything seem wrong or if this doctor was just in such sharp contrast to the warm Gillian, but I suddenly felt like my birth story was tainted. He insisted on talking only to Lohit, dismissed mom when she answered his question about using vacuum to try and deliver Rumi and essentially didn’t take even a moment to say something familiar or friendly. We tried. Even pointed out that we were from the same country. But he pretty much rushed through irrelevant conversation. In his defence, he had to get to the other woman who was being rushed for a C-Sec. And he possibly hadn’t anticipated that we would decide so quickly. Especially not after he had blandly told us that a vacuum assisted delivery could lead to permanent brain damage for Rumi. </p><p>In retrospect, I don't blame him for being taken aback when we decided in under 5 seconds and told him to proceed with the vacuum. I mean, how is one supposed to make those choices? It is hard enough to make such a decision with your mom being a doctor (who incidentally had quickly typed Vacuum? to Anjila aunty and had received in a few microseconds Y followed by a longer explanation). How do those that don’t have a background in medicine or no one they can fully trust decide such things? In that moment, I found a renewed empathy for everyone that must go through the conundrum that is healthcare without any map to navigate it. </p><p>And as I pushed that final time, Rumi popped out. I am told that his head got stuck and he was blue. My mother who was looking closely threw her phone and started praying at this point. Lohit was holding my hand tight pressing himself against me. The doctor inserted his full hand inside me and turned Rumi’s shoulder and freed him. </p><p>(The doctor quickly left for the c-sec. I was left with the tear on the bed. He came back an hour or so later and completed the suturing. Looking back, I ofcourse almost forgot this hour even existed.)</p><p>The first thing I said was, “Why isn’t the baby crying?”. And as I asked, he broke into the most beautiful cry I have ever heard. Perhaps even the sweetest sound. I immediately looked at Lohit and told him to go to the baby. He sweetly asked me, are you sure? I said YES. </p><p>Lohit tells this story well. How he walked to the baby warmer. And said “Rumi”. And Rumi turned his head and quietened completely. We had read that babies recognise voices they hear in the womb but we didn’t truly believe it possible until then. While Lohit spent a lot of the pregnancy talking, reading, singing, telling stories to Rumi, it was in that moment that he truly became his father. </p><p>The moment they brought Rumi to me and I held him, I first asked what his Apgar score was. Some of my reactions truly amuse me. My brain needed to know what my heart already knew - Rumi was perfect. </p><p>And in that moment I felt like everything was worth it. Including that horrible tear, the exhaustion, the numbness, the fear and everything else. </p><p>Lohit and I slept. Mom insisted on staying on the sofa and letting Lohit sleep. How could someone endure so much and be so giving even after? Only parents can truly know how. </p><p>Later she told me how she held onto Rumi for the next many hours. As they tested and poked him, it turns out his fever wouldn’t come to normal. It was constantly on the lower side. Mom of course understood the implications of this better than anyone else. Newborns with infections can quickly de-escalate. The risks were far too many. </p><p>They say giving birth is the toughest thing a woman ever does. I thought so too. Until next morning. </p>Zoya Brarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04124589649184155148noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978327408480077408.post-86889331388104725332020-12-21T17:35:00.001-08:002020-12-21T17:46:37.615-08:002020<p>A year of firsts. A year of lasts. </p><p>I am certain I am not the only one who will look back at this year with all kinds of contrarian emotions and crazy memories. But I have to capture it for myself. For Rumi. For everyone that has let me go so gracefully, and for everyone that has embraced the new me. </p><p>What started as a year on a vacation to Thailand with some of my favourite people in the world, ends as a year on vacation, waiting for my latest favourite to arrive in the world. </p><p>If I look back at my life and point out pivotal years, this one will definitely stand out and perhaps win number one position. </p><p>Back in March as I came back from visiting the husband in Vancouver, the world was quickly tumbling into a very scary place. Within a few days of being back at work I quickly transitioned the team to working from home. It struck me as odd that most people around weren’t taking Covid seriously. I remember writing to a few hundred people - entrepreneurs and those in places of influence, convincing them to slow down their face to face operations and shift to work from home modes. It was an uphill battle. Most people laughed at me, others told me I was paranoid. But I hunkered on. Dad had a lot to do with my conviction. He was in the eye of the storm, in the midst of all the cutting edge research. Other than that it was just my belief that we get such few chances to actually do some good, and this was perhaps mine. </p><p>Soon it became writing on the wall that countries would shut down, borders would close and it could be a reality that I would be far far away from most of the family. Mom and I spontaneously decided we had to get on a flight and be near those that mattered most to us. We didn’t know it would be permanent. We didn’t know it would be one of the last flights out to Canada before the borders shut. We didn’t know or we may have done things differently. Or not left at all. Who knows? </p><p>I still remember being so torn. I felt like I was deserting my team. Like I was a lousy captain of the ship. I don’t know in retrospect if I was or wasn’t. All I know is that the pieces now make sense. And knowing what I know today, I wouldn’t change a thing. </p><p>My team, the same people I brought in 2020 with in Thailand were extremely supportive. They asked me to go. They said they would be fine. We would be fine. What a blessing. To be surrounded by people like that. That care about you as a person way before they care about you as a means to an end for themselves. </p><p>The next thing I know I was in a time zone 12 hours away from India, working India time. My family knew I was living in the same house but they only saw me for an hour or so. I was sleeping when they were awake and working through the night. I thought back in 2016 as I came back from my honeymoon and was thrown into the deep end of a due diligence that the company was totally unprepared for - spending months at work barely coming home - was the toughest part of CORE for me. Then this happened. Suddenly I was on less than 4 hours of sleep for months. Zombie like, my phone was ringing off the hook. We were now part of the solution. CORE started testing for Covid and I never could have anticipated the orbit we would suddenly be thrown into and the severe lack of preparation would mean we would have to grow from 200 to 500+ overnight. That our revenue would grow 6x in 3 months. That we would be bombarded with demand - that we would have to say no over and over and over again. It was thrilling. It was exhausting. It was draining. </p><p>And then in April, I took a pregnancy test. And it came back positive. It was an ironical moment. I had wanted this for so long. I was the most unprepared for it in that moment. Work was the most intense it had ever been, and suddenly my body was the least energetic it had been. I was hormone struck, unable to cope. </p><p>One night after staying awake nearly three days (a consequence of taking on a battle against the Supreme Court to overturn a decision that they had rolled out to force private labs to offer Covid testing for free), mom literally threatened that she would give me a shot of sleep medication if I didn’t stop. People around me thought I had lost it. I had lost it. Those back home at CORE had no clue. To them I was just being my crazy, driven self. Had they a clue, they would have seen that I was losing it too. </p><p>And then I stopped. I knew I couldn’t do it anymore without physically reaching my end. I did the unthinkable. I said no, I stopped answering to things that didn’t really need me. I asked for help. I became vulnerable. I told my team I had to stop working at night. It made me feel guilty. It tore me. I wanted them to know why I was being this way. I didn’t want them to feel I was deserting them. But I knew I was. </p><p>Cut to August end. I finally shared what was going on. Prepared a transition plan. Called it fully quits. I knew it was the right thing to do. I knew the team was prepared. I knew I wasn’t irreplaceable. Yet, it was the hardest thing I ever had to do. (In my defence, labour still hasn’t arrived!)</p><p>And then relief. How easily I went from being an organised freak to being myself again - easy going, chilled, and relaxed. For months now, I have woken up without an alarm. Slept 10+ hour days. Spent hours with people I love. Had zero goals. Been okay with just being. Meditated when I wanted to, exercised if I wanted to. Let myself go. Let myself be. I explored a completely new side of my relationship with Lohit. Becoming parents is a journey that has changed us as humans first, as partners second. Even before the baby is physically here, we are metamorphosed. </p><p>We spent time resolving things that have been unresolved for years. Because we never noticed how the stuff we ignored while we led busy lives never truly went away. This year we saw it for what it was. We cleaned it up. We did the work. Most importantly, we now recognise that our marriage is a journey of constant growth. We will never arrive. We will always be a work in progress. And that is what makes it beautiful. </p><p>Who would have thought in the middle of my simple life, suddenly I would get joy in things long lost. Like spending time with my grand mom in the sun. Like helping improve relationships around me. Like eating my mom’s food. Like fighting with my brother. Like throwing a ball endlessly for my dog. Like learning to drive in a new country all over again.</p><p>And at the end, this year will end with the greatest treasure of them all - of being a mother. I can’t wait to get started. </p><p><br></p><p><br></p><p><br></p><p><br></p><p><br></p><p><br></p>Zoya Brarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04124589649184155148noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978327408480077408.post-89680406683503760792020-08-11T02:40:00.001-07:002020-08-11T02:40:27.978-07:00UsSmudges of memories <div>Hidden in crevices</div><div>A blue sofa, white bookcase</div><div>Merging - our colored vices</div><div><br></div><div>The drawer offers up a note</div><div>If you look close enough </div><div>A perfumed letter, a sensual poem</div><div>Memories casually stuffed</div><div><br></div><div>Where the paint smudges </div><div>Where the door cracks </div><div>Each - a story bursting</div><div>If you can see beyond the black</div><div><br></div><div>From Bondi, Colombo, Vienna<br></div><div>Each charm depicting stages,</div><div>Can you hold that gentle breeze</div><div>And feel it turn your pages?</div><div><br></div><div>Fall in love with a story</div><div>But only through a glimpse</div><div>See us, as we see us</div><div>In Kindle sepia and wine rims</div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Zoya Brarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04124589649184155148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978327408480077408.post-68210660902940280282020-03-03T03:04:00.000-08:002020-03-03T03:04:04.519-08:00Feel again<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
But it took a while<br />
Didn't it?<br />
To hear your own silence<br />
To feel that which you had numbed<br />
<br />
And here you are<br />
Face to face<br />
With that which scares you<br />
With every pretense removed<br />
<br />
You spent all your reserves<br />
To hide your light<br />
You hid so well<br />
You forgot you were hiding<br />
<br />
Then suddenly, slowly<br />
All those cracks opened up<br />
The wounds were fresh again<br />
Breathe, breathe, breathe.<br />
<br />
Who are you now<br />
with all the roughness gone<br />
with all your defenses lost<br />
who are you now<br />
<br />
The questions knock endlessly<br />
as you stand right there<br />
Unable to move, unwilling to move<br />
swayed by nothing.<br />
<br />
Who told that tiny girl<br />
That pain was bad<br />
Who told her that hurt should be given away<br />
Who told her forever can't be had?<br />
<br />
You spent years thinking<br />
love was to be written up<br />
Unspoken, unfelt, unheard<br />
you didn't let love in or out<br />
<br />
And now what?<br />
Now where do you go?<br />
Who will you be<br />
now that you can be anything?</div>
Zoya Brarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04124589649184155148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978327408480077408.post-63087409339915413482020-01-01T09:47:00.001-08:002020-01-01T10:06:39.947-08:002019<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I started this tradition for the year <span style="color: white;"><a href="https://zoya-lifeitself.blogspot.com/2011/01/2010.html">2010</a>, </span>a whole decade ago. To take a moment to reflect on the year gone by and capture everything that touched me, moved me, made me. In <a href="https://zoya-lifeitself.blogspot.com/2014/01/2013_8404.html">2014</a>, I wrote,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"This is post number 4 in my series of year-end posts. 20 year old me would have never imagined that I could actually carry on a tradition for four years in a row. Turns out, I can."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">That was the last year I wrote a year-end post. Until today.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Ironies. I love it when this happens.</span></b></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">What happened in 2014, 2015, 2016? What did I not capture about meeting Lohit, our journey of deciding to get married, our marriage, setting up home, and all the other firsts and seconds and thirds that happened to us in those years? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In retrospect, I missed out on such profound opportunities of acknowledging growth, of recognizing limitations, of accepting things as they are. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">But 2019 has flipped everything on its head. In some ways, where I am today is a culmination of what started in October 2017. On the 6th of October, Lohit and I went and did Landmark. I walked in there with the explicit goal - fix Lohit! I was clear, <i>he</i> needed<i> </i>the transformation. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The first time I did landmark was when I was 15. While I clearly remember it shaking me up and helping me cope with papa not being around, with heartbreak, with defining who I wanted to be, what I obviously forgot was the fundamental philosophy itself - everything that happens to me is in my control.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And so, if life was as life was, in October 2017, Lohit didn't need to be fixed, I did. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Funny when you set out to change things outside, nothing moves. When you look within, the whole world shifts. </b></span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">We started with simple things. <b>Authenticity</b>. Lohit and I shared what we had kept hidden from each other. Ironic again, since the basis of picking each other in the first place was that we both believed we could fully be ourselves with the other. We re-discovered connection, love. We learned for the first time that neither he nor I am static. And it was in loving each other when we don't like each other, that we grew. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">We talked about the difficult things. <b>Kids</b>.<b> </b>Yes, one more irony. We spent 4 months answering <a href="https://www.amazon.in/1001-Questions-Ask-Before-Married/dp/0071438033">1000+ questions</a> before we decided to get married. And yet, I thought I will change his mind on kids. Yes, I was <i>that </i>stupid. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Stupid as I may be, I have also recently found a new way to describe the other constant in my life,<i> </i><b>grace. </b>One of the things that 2019 will be remembered for is the year that I re-discovered my joy for reading. <a href="https://www.amazon.in/Road-Less-Travelled-Psychology-Traditional-ebook/dp/B009EQG80W/ref=asc_df_B009EQG80W/?tag=googleshopdes-21&linkCode=df0&hvadid=399156365244&hvpos=1o1&hvnetw=g&hvrand=16695736906975008595&hvpone=&hvptwo=&hvqmt=&hvdev=c&hvdvcmdl=&hvlocint=&hvlocphy=1007765&hvtargid=pla-404766687599&psc=1&ext_vrnc=hi">Road Less Travelled</a>, <span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">my favorite book this year, helped me understand the phenomena I have known but never been able to fully comprehend - grace. How things just seem to work out for me all the time. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">(I read this book during one of the three most exciting days I spent this year. Israel, the book and what I learnt about myself will forever be intertwined) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Lohit and I have found a way to communicate, we have found common ground, and we have again stumbled on our love for each other. More so, we now know that this place we have reached is not a destination. It is a mere pause in the struggle that we know our life will be. As M. Scott Peck puts it, we both know now that <i>Life is Difficult. </i>In finding this together, we have discovered why we married, why we stayed, and why we <i>will</i> stay. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I have also found a better place with <b>mom</b>. One where I can tell her everything on my mind. Irony #3. Anyone who knew us would say that they envy our relationship. That we are clearly close. But not visible even to us were the spaces of vacuum. The taboo topics, the silent anger, the quite irritation, the loneliness. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I hadn't told her about the time when I was molested back when I was 8 years old. Such an old story, so pervasive. In 2018, and more recently, in 2019, I was able to fully disconnect who I am today from what happened to me back then. I entirely acknowledge that I am not disgusting, that I can be loved, that I should be loved. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Funny enough, the most substantial impact of this was on my relationship with mom and my relationship with myself. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I finally realized that exercising is for myself, that taking a moment to get ready is for myself, that eating well is for myself. (I also got my nose pierced.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I accepted that mom isn't fragile. Irony #4, tiny Zoya was protecting her mother all along. <i>Stupid. </i>What protection does my fierce mother need from anything? She is the one I learnt how to be strong from! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">2019 helped us discover the joy of vulnerability, of allowing each other in, of sharing our hurt. Because sharing pain doesn't cause pain, it eases it. (Yes clearly we only knew this theoretically until this year). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Dad</b>. That I can call him that. That I have given him that space. That I have accepted him to be family. 2018 saw that happen. This was a big one for me. My convoluted head had stored mom inside the slot that a father should have. I refused to let him in. Even when it most mattered to her that I accept him, I kept my walls up. Irony #5. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Who would have thought that I would reveal parts of myself to him this year that I didn't feel comfortable sharing with anyone else? That we would reach a place of comfort, of acceptance, of love? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Angad, Pearl. </b>This year saw the addition of love in Angad's life. It saw us navigate the tricky relationships that were new and old. While the base of it was clear, the waters were murky. We pushed, we pulled, we expanded our boundaries. We all learnt to live a little better with each other. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In 2013, it was a three people unit. Mom and her two kids. Air-tight. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">By 2019, we grew to six. Has it been easy? Certainly not. Is this a destination? Hah! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Good news, this year, too, our love trumped our egos.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Work.</b> In my post about 2013, I wrote about the time I stood up in front of my class in Vasant Valley and questioned the timings of the school. In 2018 I realized that that small happening still controlled me. I didn't feel like I could be a leader. That I could be useful. Irony #6. The company had 250+ employees in 2018 when I figured this out. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Some might say I wasted a good five years. I like to believe what <a href="https://www.amazon.in/s?k=the+hard+thing+about+hard+things&i=digital-text&adgrpid=58752903597&ext_vrnc=hi&gclid=CjwKCAiAo7HwBRBKEiwAvC_Q8VcQFa0EhQXTFTVx0oI6CJji2RB2jOimmrH2oPSw30IJZG7m3LESAhoCQPoQAvD_BwE&hvadid=294105511344&hvdev=c&hvlocphy=1007765&hvnetw=g&hvpos=1t2&hvqmt=e&hvrand=10301542673866273059&hvtargid=kwd-351777629950&hydadcr=16128_1738303&tag=googinhydr1-21&ref=pd_sl_3jeryel2yj_e">Ben Horowitz</a> says about being a CEO. The only way to learn to be a CEO is to be one. I guess for me too, the only way out was through. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Over the last two years, I took many unpopular decisions. I took things that were working, broke them. I changed the status quo. And it was exhilarating.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Funny when you set out to change things outside, nothing moves. When you look within, the whole world shifts. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">When I became the leader I already was, the team became their best versions too. They took on things that were impossible for us before. They challenged themselves in every direction. We spent days learning how to listen, how to say everything on our mind, how to be empathetic, how to be straight, how to grow up, how to grow deep, how to be. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">When I think about 2019 a decade later, this is definitely what I will look back to with the most enormous sense of achievement. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Friends. </b>A provoking conversation with Akanksha and then with others brought me to confront that I had barely been a friend all these years. How can someone that doesn't share vulnerably be a friend? The impact of this was that I had isolated myself in my chamber of perfection. No one could see where I was incomplete, hurt, lost. Who can love someone like that? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">2019 has opened this up for me. Among other things, 2020 will be a year of writing. And a lot of what I write will be written to my friends. This is a journey I am looking forward to. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">2019, a year of self-discovery. A year of searching, of finding, of redefining. A year of family, a year of meaningful work.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>2019, the best way to round up this decade. </b></span></h3>
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Zoya Brarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04124589649184155148noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978327408480077408.post-21941461896014896552018-05-10T11:26:00.001-07:002018-05-10T11:26:36.772-07:00Here is why<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
You asked me the other day, "When did you know that you wanted to marry me?". It was an innocent question, one among many others. You and I have always been able to seamlessly ask each other anything. In fact it was the simple act of conversation that brought us together.<br />
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Before you, I always thought I would eventually get dulled by the same person. That over time, the magic would wear off and I would be left with regret. That the curiosity would wane. That I would run out off things to connect on. That cynicism would take over and I would give up.<br />
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Then I met you.<br />
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It was simple. You were the first person that showed me that conversations never get boring. That fights are okay. That communication breaks, but repairs. That a promise lasts longer than a lifetime.<br />
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It was easy. You showed me how. </div>
Zoya Brarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04124589649184155148noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978327408480077408.post-49962003046184264572018-05-10T11:24:00.000-07:002018-05-10T11:33:49.602-07:00(Twenty) Eight<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I was only eight when that passport was collected from the locker, those bags were packed, and a painful separation was initiated. </div>
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Even as a child, I could feel the intuitive ending as it drew near. I had known, without complete certainty, that the apparent stability in my life was slowly transiting into a monster I would have to live with for the next many years of my life. </div>
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Children understand things in a way that adults never can. Children feel and perceive, without denying or analyzing. And in my case, the intuition was even stronger than most other kids. While other kids would often grow up in cheerful ignorance, I always sensed that unsettled remark, always understood the sideway glance, and always felt that double meaning. <br />
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Do you ever forget the moment when things break? When families split? Does the feeling of incompleteness, of having a part of you missing, of a pain from a distant past, ever ease?<br />
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Do separations ever end? Do you get over that need to have someone come back?<br />
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Zoya Brarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04124589649184155148noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978327408480077408.post-39071830371992877552018-05-10T11:20:00.000-07:002018-05-10T11:20:40.448-07:00Worst Nightmare<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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For me, the only real way to get over something as significant as this, is to write about it. Write about it so much that it becomes almost like you are telling someone else’s tale, like you are blogging about something you watched as a by-stander. </div>
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What a week it was. What started off as a casual - I’ll go and charm her into giving me what I want - turned into the worst nightmare of my life. I stood and watched helplessly as I was told about a world that I barely knew existed, one that I definitely didn’t know the rules off. So I watched as the characters changed, the scripts got edited and re-edited, the director’s chair was swiftly occupied by a different character every few hours. And all along there was an underlying fear, suspicion and constant feeling of deception. </div>
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It is easy to rely on your intuition - you at least have a decision and either right or wrong, you deal with the consequences and move on. This was different. For the first time in my life the consequences were bigger than I could imagine, tougher than I could comprehend and swifter than I could perceive. I was being lead, and I was told to lead. It was a full mash up of all the crappy Bollywood movies I have seen so far and I was every character - from victim to evictor. </div>
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And then you wonder as you watch your life play out in front of you - is this who you really are? Aren’t your choices just as illegitimate as anyone else’s? Would you not call into question anyone else who made the move that you did? Were you really that helpless? And then the most important one of all - is this really over? </div>
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Zoya Brarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04124589649184155148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978327408480077408.post-64484071734504323682018-04-27T03:04:00.001-07:002018-04-27T03:04:43.488-07:00Beyond it all<p dir="ltr">Which part of you do you identity most as yourself?<br>
When do you feel every fibre illuminate and glow?<br>
The blood in your every last vein, your breath raciest?</p>
<p dir="ltr">What moment of perfect coincidences penetrates you irrevocably?<br>
When do you stop and stare at the immensity of you?<br>
How do you touch, and own, that irresistible perfection? </p>
<p dir="ltr">Who are you in that very split second of recognition? <br>
Who are you as the last piece finally fits? <br>
Who are you when the haze lifts? </p>
<p dir="ltr">Do you capture those fleeting chances?<br>
Do you etch that awareness? <br>
Do you lose a few seconds?</p>
<p dir="ltr">Does it overwhelm you? <br>
Does it define you?<br>
Do you know? </p>
Zoya Brarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04124589649184155148noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978327408480077408.post-85000441130403025832017-02-06T10:53:00.000-08:002017-02-06T10:54:47.922-08:00Muffin<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
You taught me simple things.. for instance, to run fearlessly.<br />
To charge at those bigger and stronger - always making the first move.<br />
To always be playful, to always be free.<br />
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You showed me that love is truly unconditional.<br />
That being in love means protecting fiercely, bravely.<br />
That sometimes a little tummy rub and lick is all it takes.<br />
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As you waited, sometimes endlessly, for me,<br />
you showed me how to make someone the centre of your universe,<br />
it was in loving me, that you showed us how love was to be done.<br />
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In your loyalty, you become an inspiration, often told,<br />
by being ours, you made us more, you made us whole.<br />
You healed, our tiny hearts, as we grew up, together. <br />
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You were the missing piece, the little radiance,<br />
the little sunshine, amongst all our gloom.<br />
You made the house our home.<br />
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My strength, my friend,<br />
my hope, my joy,<br />
my roots, my journey,<br />
my childhood, my adventure,<br />
my listener, my licker,<br />
my furry friend.</div>
Zoya Brarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04124589649184155148noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978327408480077408.post-3334636511645744702016-12-23T06:28:00.002-08:002016-12-23T06:34:52.565-08:00Everyday Romance <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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There is calm <br />
in dependability <br />
There is comfort <br />
in intensity </div>
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There is home</div>
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in intimacy</div>
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It's the in between<br />
in what is never said between us.<br />
It's in knowing that silence<br />
is understanding.<br />
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Do you think about the same things?<br />
Do you wonder with the same immensity?<br />
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When I am listening,<br />
While I giggle,<br />
While I chatter endlessly,<br />
Do you hear the slight pause?<br />
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Do you notice the catch in my breath?<br />
Do you sense the moment when I am me?<br />
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Are you simple, like your words,<br />
like your curious stories?<br />
Are you at ease, like the sea,<br />
like the chirping trees?<br />
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Are you aware, of what it means,<br />
of what it conveys?<br />
Are you deliberate, in the impact,<br />
in the way you move me?<br />
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There is closure<br />
in belonging</div>
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There is security</div>
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in co-existing</div>
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There is peace<br />
in being.<br />
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</div>
</div>
</div>
Zoya Brarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04124589649184155148noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978327408480077408.post-29240660185885728682016-02-27T06:52:00.001-08:002016-02-27T06:55:55.866-08:00That's how it is <p dir="ltr">I can tell you what it means, to have misery and joy all combined into one. Knowing that you will be robbed of everything. That every identifiable shred of your tumultuous identity will be stolen, and you will be left, formless. That you will own and tarnish the past and re-create every inch of it. You will lose everything, but what you will retain is the dull sense of ownership; of knowing that you painstakingly created this, from scratch, against opposition. And you will be left with an empty slate, to re-write. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I remember it all. Like it was happening now, in front of me. Knowing what would make this perfect, and yet knowing it was impossible. Fighting everything, including myself to make it possible. And then giving it up. Knowing when it would self-destruct. Knowing when I was not right. Knowing when I was. But, also knowing that my brightness needed illumination. That an atmosphere that damned would not only be brutal on me, it would also be brutal on you. Knowing that our separation was our only salvation. That through distance we would reach closure. That in moments of self doubt, your sight would cure the dull ache; or intensify the lack of it. That your irresistible purpose was me, and mine was you. That we were intertwined. And yet, we were parasitic. We, not I. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Would liberation destroy me? Would freedom render me numb? </p>
<p dir="ltr">Goodbye to you. Not because I can’t live with you, but because I should try to live without you. Because we are too in sync to see the painful consequence of our partial co-betrayal. I can hear you. I can hear you call out in agony. I can see the arms stretched out in desirous platitudes. I can feel those shards of deceit stab you, like they were stabbing me. Your identity is now enmeshed in mine, we are unbreakable. But, to those that barely know us (everybody), we are separate. And they perhaps will find a way to revive you. To re-instate life into that which you have always identified as mine. In the lack of me, you will morph and become you. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Me? You ask, softly. I will be okay, darling. The power to create rests decisively within the recesses of that which you call yours, but is irrevocably mine. </p>
Zoya Brarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04124589649184155148noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978327408480077408.post-80942661083706295732015-09-02T07:02:00.003-07:002015-09-02T07:04:17.586-07:00Quiet<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Language. Cross out.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Words. Cross out.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Thoughts. Cross out.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><br style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;" />
<span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">But how do I forget</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">That silent</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">intense</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">surreal</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">way I feel</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">around you?</span></div>
Zoya Brarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04124589649184155148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978327408480077408.post-53057576264777310102015-04-12T02:12:00.000-07:002015-04-12T02:12:03.851-07:00Somethings always stay<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="p1">
I wrote this for you when you were leaving last year but never shared it with you. Given that today is Siblings Day, I felt like it was an appropriate time to share it.<br />
<br />
_____________________________________________________________________<br />
<br />
Letting you go was extremely hard. Not because I will never see you again, but because I will never see you again like this. We have lived a certain life of dependency for the last two and a half decades now. Just our little, three people unit. Right from the time when protecting you against pain and bitterness was my only priority, to the time when you became the reason mom and I felt safe at night, it has been a tumultuous journey. We have had moments of disagreement, anger, disappointment. But there has always been the knowledge that no matter what, we have each other. </div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
The next time I meet you, it will be different. It will be your home, your friends, your context, and I will be a visitor. Perhaps we may live together again. But things will change. </div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
I long for the moments of insecurity and loneliness that made us so dependent upon each other. I long for the few dinners that we took with just each other. Even if we had nothing to talk about, the silence was always enough. I long for all the movies we went for, all the last minute rushing and fighting. I long for the consistent change that was our life. Moving homes, moving friends, moving lives. But always having us. I long for all of that. </div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
Can I ever explain to you how deeply I feel for you? So intense is the feeling that everything else pales in comparison. I don’t always express myself and most often I get perceived as cold and detached for it. But I wish I could explain to you exactly what I feel. How I long to always protect you from the world. How I wish that our few car rides with rockstar on full blast would never end. How I feel like hurting someone back that even brings the smallest of pain to you. How you are, and will always be my little brother - the one that didn’t understand anything because I shielded him from the harshness of life. </div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
Life has brought us full circle. Now it is you who shields me from all that life holds - from my inabilities to be social, from my feelings of loneliness, from my own self. </div>
<br />
<div class="p1">
I miss you, and a part of me will always pine for a moment of just you and me - playing chess in Europe, driving from hundreds of places to back home, goa, at home in our various rooms, in school buses, racing our cars on our way to college….our memories are endless, just like our love.</div>
</div>
Zoya Brarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04124589649184155148noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978327408480077408.post-35618376736426871982015-03-30T08:45:00.001-07:002015-03-30T08:45:34.994-07:00Breaking her silence <p dir="ltr">Sometimes I see her and pain and wonder where it comes from. She refuses to shine, she rejects any sense of warmth that comes her way, she has a tower erected all around her. </p>
<p dir="ltr">My gut tells me to look in his direction. To see the invisible scars he left on her and dig deeper to unearth the visible ones. I want to ask her the right questions, and give her enough courage to tell me their answers. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I want to release her from the suffocation that she's suffering in alone. I want to take on all that he's ruined her with, and I want to send it lashing right back at him. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I know what he did to her, I know it better than any truth she could accurately remember. I can sense it in such a real way, that her anguish is now mine. I am afraid she'll never break the silence, that she will be misunderstood for far too long a time, that once again, his demons will have their way. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Each time, I helplessly look in her direction, almost asking, almost telling. And then I shamefully look away, not knowing, not admitting. </p>
Zoya Brarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04124589649184155148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978327408480077408.post-71976627154882422332015-03-29T22:39:00.001-07:002015-03-30T05:22:47.243-07:00Old school <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr">
I often wonder about the times before communication methods were so abundantly available. Reading Kafka's Letters to Milena makes me almost long that I was born during that time. <br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
There is a certain romanticism in waiting. In knowing that your time together is extremely precious, limited, fleeting. In sending your emotions to someone with no confirmation of receipt. <br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
I can only try and imagine what the lack of certainty created - a constant need, a permanently unfulfilled desire, release only in small doses. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
There is something poetic about reading what someone wrote many days ago, imagining where they were sitting, what they were wearing, how they smelt, as they wrote those words to you. A sense of nostalgia and realism, wrapped together carefully. There is also so much deliberation and intense emotion that goes into the act that it restricts the number of people one can share that emotion with, ensuring that when you do, the understanding is as deep as it gets. It takes the frivolity away from communication as we see it today. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
While there is a definite comfort in knowing that you can reach out to your loved ones, no matter where they are, unfortunately, comfort doesn't breed art. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
Given a choice, I would trade comfort for poetry, in a heartbeat, each time. </div>
</div>
Zoya Brarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04124589649184155148noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978327408480077408.post-28075595964359775302015-03-29T10:42:00.000-07:002015-03-29T10:42:33.984-07:00What’s Left of Us<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you could hear the last need as it echoes endlessly from
me to you,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Would you hear the stifled childhood scream as it penetrates
you?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Would my words have the honest intensity of my feelings?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Would the emotion come tearing through, unbridled,
undeterred, unfettered? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If there was no fear of fall-outs, of hurt, of betrayal, of
vacuum,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Would my expression lash out angrily as you string the
sentences together? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Would the insane promise of comprehension last across ages
and irrationality?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Would the words quietly reach you, and land on earnest
understanding?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If ink could carry all the guilt, the nonchalance, the
nothingness of us,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Would it tell you, how the empty hollow left inside of you
has crushed me?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Would it show you my crevices, and their jagged, insistent,
desperate stories?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Would it smudge the distance between rotten you and rotten
me?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A question, and the hope for its answer, is all that’s left of you and me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Zoya Brarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04124589649184155148noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978327408480077408.post-47683090304866741162015-03-05T08:04:00.000-08:002015-03-05T08:04:16.013-08:00Unsaid <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's the in between<br />
In what is never said between us.<br />
What does it take to put it out there?<br />
To have it said, loudly.<br />
<br />
Do you think about the same things?<br />
Do you wonder with the same intensity?<br />
<br />
When I am listening,<br />
While I giggle,<br />
While I chatter endlessly,<br />
Do you perceive the subtle pause?<br />
<br />
Do you hear the sudden catch in my breath?<br />
Do you catch the sudden sparkle?<br />
<br />
Are you simple, like your words,<br />
Like your straightforward stories,<br />
Like your child like reluctance,<br />
Are you more? </div>
Zoya Brarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04124589649184155148noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978327408480077408.post-29907538099459305262015-02-06T00:47:00.002-08:002015-02-06T01:56:03.328-08:00Goodbye to you my trusted friend <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr">
I still remember the day so vividly. It was nearly 15 years ago. You came to me in a cane basket, carefully wrapped with a red and white polka dot cloth. There were balloons on one side, and you, sitting there looking at me. You came with an instruction manual and I remember you liked curd rice. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
I have never felt any emotion purer than my need to protect you. I was barely 10 but I felt like I had to shield you from the world. I remember standing on the balcony of my fathers home and crying by myself because you wouldn't eat the curd rice that mom said you so loved. I remember begging you to eat. I remember feeling so relieved when you did. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Your first few days with us were very heartbreaking. Having to leave you home alone for the first time, watching you cry like a baby and sense your calm when I came near you. Within a few days, you had given me memories for a lifetime. Your peeing on the bed and Angad and my turning the Dunlop around so our father wouldn't find out. How could you have known the impact your tiny presence was going to have on our life. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
My little fighter, I would like to believe that you fought on, despite all the times that life almost took you out, only for me. As a puppy, you almost died a few times, but each time you would surprise us by springing back to life. Your body may have been tiny, but your spirit was so large. You took on every dog on the street, and even turned timid Xavier into a fighter. You never gave up. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
So today when I saw you give up, I almost hoped that this was one more of your cruel jokes. That you would soon get up, bark like crazy, jump off the doctors table, because jumping was always your thing, and bow in front of me, begging me to play with you. I saw you like you were for many years, fierce and loyal, and oh so loving. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
There is no way to fill the hole that you have left in my heart. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
There is no one else that could be my silent companion, never judging, only sitting, watching, egging me to get up, kick the dust and play instead. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
There is no one else who knew my secrets the way you did, who almost licked my tears, who almost felt my pain while silently curling up in my lap, a thousand times over. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
I don't know what's next for you, but you make me hope in a life after. That someday, I will be able to run behind you as you run free, that someday my heart will skip one more beat as I watch you jump off the roof and land squarely on your paws. That someday, I will be able to feel your fast heartbeat with my palm. That someday you will look at me, stop in in your tracks and madly wag your tail, as I call out Muffin. </div>
</div>
Zoya Brarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04124589649184155148noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978327408480077408.post-56973985824320814712015-01-17T05:27:00.001-08:002015-01-17T05:32:03.179-08:00Do you turn? <p dir="ltr">There was a jungle full of roots and thorns and swamps and danger. A forest of destruction and emotional deforestation. I slowly navigated it. Sometimes going in circles. Sometimes moving forward. I marveled each time a root caught my foot. What was it that kept it growing over years and years buried deep inside a dark, quiet place? I caught my breath when fear gnawed its way inside and pushed me to turn and run. But I never turned and I never stopped. </p>
<p dir="ltr">The urge to cross over, to transcend, to transform, always pulled me like the earth's gravity. </p>
<p dir="ltr">And then I saw the sunlight catch the dew and I knew it was over. </p>
<p dir="ltr">What do you do when all the questions are answered, when you walk through all the ugly underbelly and face all the angriest demons? </p>
<p dir="ltr">Does self awareness become the cover up? Do you finally turn in any direction? Does realization make you different? </p>
Zoya Brarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04124589649184155148noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4978327408480077408.post-61561181032874401872015-01-17T05:18:00.001-08:002015-03-11T11:53:12.412-07:00Everyday Romance <p dir="ltr">That moment. The little indecision, the fearless declaration, the long wait, the crashing, the rising.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I have read poetry that makes me wish it was written for me. Heard words that woo and swish me off my feet. I have felt eyes as they quickly duck another way. Heard endless gushed stories that seem like I belong in them. </p>
<p dir="ltr">When you know and deny, when you perceive and pretend, when you understand and ignore. </p>
<p dir="ltr">It is the catastrophe of almost touching, the devastation of roughly feeling, the trauma of nearly believing. </p>
<p dir="ltr">There is that. </p>
<p dir="ltr">And then, sometimes, unexpectedly, there may be intensity, and comfort, and calm, and dependability, and assurance, and passion. Sometimes, tragedies give way to an everyday romance. </p>
Zoya Brarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04124589649184155148noreply@blogger.com0