This day last year I had no idea that it was the last day I would be carrying baby Boo inside me. My due date was April 8 and each day after 8th seemed never ending. Baby showed no signs of coming, I had no kind of pain or symptom and I became the mum who was overdue and hence the mum who gets exclaims like ‘oh you are still pregnant hey’. While at the back of my mind I knew I can’t trigger labour by doing anything I still googled ‘Natural ways to start labour’ and read endlessly.
I had informed the hospital that I wished to try VBAC, which meant no choice of induction at 39 weeks according to their policy. I also refused any kind of physical examinations till I get spontaneous labour pain. My birth plan was so very different than my first pregnancy, in which I lacked knowledge of all things in labor and delivery greatly. Since covid cases where on the rise in March, the hospital visits also became infrequent which in turn proved as a boon, with less probing by midwives and more relaxing at home by self.
The only thing lacking was my restriction to use open spaces for walking. Public parks were closed for recreation as part of the lockdown and mall visits were limited to one person per family to buy groceries. Which meant my walks would be limited to the streets nearby and not the walking routes in parks and no taking stairs in the malls. My midwife had suggested me to use the stairs as much as possible and do kerb side walking but I could do neither.
This evening last year Zack and I had walked the perimeter of our apartment block thrice and I was completely out of breath, as usual. He suggested if I want to rest but I was ambitious and said I could finish one more walk. I waddled a step here and a step there and turned and walked straight into the apartment for the lift 😂. When we reached upstairs Zack says something he had never said before and I pay no heed because I am so tired that I snooze off on the sofa.
‘Your tummy has dropped’.
As a child getting indulged was a rare occurrence. You had to do something exceptional to deserve a special thing. Weeding the cleaning the garden meant a snack of hot jalebis and samosa from the neighbourhood store. Dusting the house and clearing the cobwebs in and out meant one extra half an hour of cartoons in the evening. We used to have an attic in our childhood home which stored goods and stuff from the bygone era. I would be deathly scared to get into it but my younger brother would buoyantly jump into it because who doesn’t want to gobble up gulab jamuns hot off the stove. I know most of them sound food bribery but we knew how much of an effort and money it took to get them to us.
When I look back my parents had introduced meal planning into our house since we became school going kids. Wednesday would always be lauki-chana-dal and phulka no matter what season or phase it would be. We had a standard menu for the week which would change only if we couldn’t get that vegetable home during the weekly shopping. Desserts would strictly be during festivals as an offering to God or birthdays. Except when we did some physical hard work. Which made all the pain and effort absolutely worth it.
One such item which used to be a big indulgence according to me was to go to the local bakery and get veg puffs for the family for evening snack. We didn’t have any oven or any idea of how to make them so it held greater importance than jalebi/ samosa. We still bought the later from shops but we knew what goes into it if we were to make it from scratch. But puffs! It was a royal treat..the flakiness and crunch when you eat them hot, with the perfect spiced fillings, dunk into ketchup which the pack in small pouches and you go into a bliss. When as a family all of us would be tired and spent running around or finishing chores, the puffs would come home to indulge us and make us feel special.
Now I make the puffs at home using ready made pastry sheets. It’s no more a thing of wonder. Which makes me think how far have I come. Or you can say how far I have gone 🙂
Hello peeps! Thanks for the lovely comments on the last post. It’s good to know that I still have readers around. We had a very low key New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day with the highlight being we all lit sparklers at both the nights! How was yours?
We haven’t spent 31st December at home for the past many years. Zack won’t believe it’s been this long and I counted each year starting from 2017 and he had to agree I have a good memory. Sydney fireworks are very famous and we caught it live 2017 and 2018. The next year we were in Bangalore at a relatives place. Last year we wanted to avoid the crowds and wait times so chose a far off place in the northern coast of New South Wales to welcome the new year. The energy and vibe is real! No matter the number of people is 10 or 100. Everyone doing the countdown and screaming Happy New Year and dissipating as fast as possible to get a public transport to go home..it is an experience. This time we watched from the comfort of our comforter streaming on mobile. Zack was screen-shotting the video when the fireworks were brightest 🤨 😐 🙄
The next day though is just like any other day. The high has worn off and we are done wishing to one all via social media. So what is the excitement of the New Years Eve that makes us so joyful? We know nothing’s gonna change within 6 hours – we are going to be the same, in the grind, looking forward to hit the bed after a long day of never ending tasks.
I feel it’s hope 🙂
Hope that the new calendar date and year will bring something new in our life. Something magical will happen. Reality bites soon enough but the vibe has done its deed.
P.S I slept in and woke up at 9, with the familia waking later and having a breakfast at 11. Will this set the tone for the rest of the year….🙅🏻♀️