Another ordinary birth
Her husband was out of town. She was painting pictures in her head – how her child would look like. It didn’t matter if they had a boy or a girl. These thoughts hovered around while she passively dusted the big brown mahogany showcase, which was privy to many secrets of the family and its older generations. If only it could talk and warn her.
A few months back, one of her sisters-in-law had a baby boy. He was autistic. It was believed that the reason behind such misfortune is the stubbornness of the woman over marrying a penniless man. Quite conveniently nobody remembered the doctor saying that the baby boy was born that way because excessive pressure was abnormally exerted on his head while he was being delivered.
The atmosphere of the house was magnificently maligning. The sentiments were parted over the dire incident that had already occurred and the expectation of another chance. She was poignant and scared at the same time. The fear of having her own baby and owning the scorn of a new mother gnawed at her consciousness. Still she would carelessly dust the furniture, until the pain groped all her organs and she could no longer stand on her own.
She opened her eyes to see that she was still lying on her bed. There was a distant murmur which later was deciphered to be a brawl about the delivery of the baby. “Obviously she will have a natural delivery, gather the women around and bring the utilities” … “Should not we inform her parents?” … The conversation trailed off. She realized instantly that she had to leave the place and go to the hospital. A wounded mother is like a nascent river approaching a cliff. She will become a beautiful waterfall and take you down with her if you stop her way. She stood up and declared she is going to her mother’s place. Nobody dared to question her as her voice left no room for compromise.
As promised she was taken to her home where she immediately revealed that her baby was coming and she had to go to a hospital. Her parents made arrangements, and the next thing she knew, her clothes were changed and the pain was slowing time down. A young beautiful woman came by and assured her that all will be over soon…and again the same old clatter she could hear somewhere in the backdrop. “Caesarean? No! We will not accept it!” … “It doesn’t matter if you accept it, my daughter is in pain and I will not succumb to this nonsense”, her mother fiercely retorted.
The operation was done. The baby was premature by a few days but healthy. There was a prior gynecological complication that endangered the mother’s life, however both her husband and she wanted to have a child in their lives. This child was a girl. “If it were not a c-section she might have been blessed with a boy”, “maybe”, “all this raucous for a girl”, “What is better? Having a girl after C-section or an autistic boy through (forced) natural birth?”
Thus she was born.
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