4 Great Reasons To Travel With A Newborn (With 5 Travel Tips)

Around 2 weeks ago, I made a plan to visit Mysore with my newborn. She was a week short of two months old.

We were to go by car (a 2 hour journey on a fancy new express highway). We would keep the baby in her boat. While in Mysore, my cousin and sister would help care for the baby and me — give the baby a bath, help me with the right food for my diet… My cousin would keep her doggy at a pet-care home for two days. We would keep the trip relaxed, so that there wouldn’t be too much roaming around after reaching Mysore.

We thought of everything and planned for it.

But two days before the trip, I chickened out.

Throughout the planning, I was constantly debating myself on whether this trip was required.

The baby’s head is still not stable. Is it safe to take her in the car?

(Yes, we can keep her in her boat and she’ll be okay.)

Won’t she feel too hot in the boat?

No, AC will be on.

This is her boat

The highway is a new express highway where people will be driving like maniacs. Is it safe?

Yes, you’re going in a new car, which is not supposed to be driven over 80 kmph for the first 1000 km.

But others may drive like nutters and crash into you for no fault of yours.

That, you cannot help.

This is non-essential travel. Why do you want to do it now?

Fine, drop the plan.

It was an endless debate for almost a week, where the italics finally won. So we canned the trip and stayed back at home on the weekend.

Two weeks later, it was my parents’ 40th anniversary. This time, my sister suggested that we go to a nearby resort to celebrate. We thought of it just a day in advance, and before I could overthink it, we had booked our overnight stay at a resort in the outskirts, around 41 km from home.

It was going to be our first stay outside my parents’ home. My baby’s first vacation, at 2 months and a week old.

I was very nervous the night before we left. I expressed this to my cousin, Swetha, and she said a very simple sentence that calmed me down — “It’s natural to be nervous but believe me, if you’re relaxed the child will be relaxed too.”

So I decided to relax and take things as they come. Turns out, it was a fantastic decision to head out, and for me, the weekend turned things around! It changed how I look at the baby and how to care for it. And it is for these reasons that I would not only say “It’s okay to travel with a baby,” I would definitely “recommend” travelling with a baby. (Do keep in mind the tips I’ve shared at the end of this post though!)

1. Travelling with your newborn helps you stop being over-protective

This has been the biggest change in my outlook as a mom.

Ever since my baby was born, I’ve been fussing over her — about how anyone carries her, about keeping her extra warm, about feeding her exactly on time by tracking every feed on an app (I literally tracked every two-hour feed for two months). Here’s are her feeding analytics.

In my defense, this is the first time I’m handling a baby. I’ve never even held such a tiny baby before.

At work, my boss and mentor, Arjun, kept saying, “It’s just a baby. Don’t treat it like a feather. Babies are resilient. Don’t fuss over them.”

I could never understand him. Until I went on this trip.

Within the first day, all my inhibitions of newborn care went down the drain.

First was on our drive. I had carried her boat for her safety (she’s too tiny for a car seat.) She was probably getting baked inside. But we were in a fancy new Skoda Slavia (my sister’s new car). So we turned on cool AC for the baby. Until now, I was hesitant to even turn on the fan, but here I was, allowing cold air to blow around her.

Then came lunch time. If you know me, you’ll know that I’m the kind that avoids touching dining tables at restaurants. I feel very yucky thinking about the past food on it. But here we were, with the baby kept in the middle of the table, while we all sat around her and ate.

See our main dish :P

Then came evening time at the resort. So far, I had avoided exposing her to cool evening air and generally avoided exposing her to natural elements after the sun goes down. But here was dusk and cool wind, and the baby was with us just like that, not even in her boat, not even wearing a skull cap.

That night was her first night outside of a mosquito net, that too at a resort in the middle of forests. She got four nice mosquito bites on her face (thankfully, the rest of her body was covered).

So within the day, I realised that nothing drastic is going to happen to her. I learnt to relax a bit when it comes to her safety. I’m not overprotective and panicky anymore.

2. You become more confident as a mom

At Indiahikes, we always say that trekking makes you more confident. If you’ve battled the crazy cold of the Himalayas, stayed in the wild for a week and climbed a summit, you feel invincible! You think, “If I’ve done this, I can do anything!”

I got a similar feeling after taking my baby out for two days. It gave me a lot of confidence that I can manage the baby with very little. It removed the complexity of baby care and stripped it down to basics — food, sleep, warmth and hygiene. If all these are in place, everything else is a bonus (which you can make do without).

Here, my friend Supriya and her husband gave me a wonderful tip about food. They said “Travel when the baby is still breastfeeding. That way, if she’s hungry, you can stop and feed anywhere. You don’t have to carry a thing with you!” That rung so true, because I could even sit in the car and feed her while driving back on the highway. So I never had to worry about food. I’m sure travel won’t be as simple 3-4 months down the line.

I was still worried about her potty and sleep.

When we left, she hadn’t done potty in 72 hours. This was her first transition from 4-5 potties a day to one potty in three days, which happens after the second month. So I was quite anxious. But that evening at the resort, she did three huge potties. She was very happy after that and so was I. I did have a shortage of nappies, but we managed that too (I’ve written how in the tips section).

The only other things I was worried about was her sleep. What if she didn’t sleep all night and didn’t let me sleep (happens quite often)? What if she cried and woke others up? After all, we were sharing rooms and space with others. But she didn’t cry all night. She only squealed once as soon as she woke up, but that was equivalent to how my brother in law roared at night when Arsenal scored a winning goal against Bournemouth in the 97th minute! So no problem!

Given how smooth everything was, I felt very confident that I could manage her anywhere. Of course, I had my husband, mum, dad, sister, brother in law and even his parents there to help me. But it boosted my confidence that, with the right help, I can manage the baby well.

After that, I got the confidence to take the baby on my own in a cab to office (everyone there helped with the baby).

I have started taking her out for evening walks.

I’m much more confident about my parenting decisions now. Even today, I confidently took her for her vaccination and brought her back. I’ve stopped questioning myself. I do feel like I’m on the right track as a mom.

3. You need the relaxation

I don’t have to harp on here much. After two months of taking care of a newborn, you’re likely to be physically and mentally drained. Sleepless nights, constant nappy-changing every few hours (especially if you’re not using diapers), restricted diet, possible post-partum feelings, all of them do take a toll on you.

A small weekend out like this will really help. I played Table Tennis, went swimming, tried my hand at Snooker and archery and even took a shot at cricket.

Not only that, I stayed in a nice room in the middle of the woods. Through the French windows, I could see chickoo trees heavily laden with fruit. The entire campus was covered in trees (right from oak to neem to jackfruit and eucalyptus). It was very relaxing to be in the middle of greenery.

I also broke my breastfeeding diet and ate all kinds of food in the buffet. Those 3-4 cheat meals felt good! Even something as simple as listening to music while driving felt good.

So definitely do yourself a favour and give yourself that break. It’s worth it.

4. Your baby gets exposed to a whole new world!

My sister, who works in an education-based NGO, keeps telling me how important early childhood development is. Every single day is important in the infant’s life. What they see, what they hear, what they smell, taste, touch, everything.

At home, I’ve been able to give her some limited exposure, taking her to my terrace, showing her the gulmohar tree, coconut tree, jackfruit tree and mango tree that form a canopy here. I’ve made her smell pudina, dodhpathre, tulsi, basil, roses and jasmine from the garden. I’ve showed her Black and White books so far and sung songs to her.

But here, she was exposed to a whole new world. New colours, patterns, sounds, shapes, people, voices, smells. She stayed up throughout the return drive, so that was a bonus two hours where she sat and looked out of the window.

Now I’m not an expert, so I don’t know what she assimilated from this, but I believe any kind of exposure has new learnings. And that’s what travelling comes with. It can never be bad for the baby, no matter how old he / she is.

5 tips while travelling with a newborn

1. Wait until your baby is at least 2 months old: Given that you have just given birth, you will take some time to recover. A C-section needs at least 6-8 weeks of recovery. After a regular delivery also you’ll need enough rest. Also, your child is too delicate to travel before that, its immunity is not great. By around 2 months it’s safe enough to travel.
2. Research the place you’re visiting a little: Ensure you have a comfortable room with a bed where you can keep the baby. (We didn’t try to look for a crib / cradle n all). Ensure you have enough healthy food and water for yourself. Ensure basic hygiene is in place.
3. Travel with people you deeply trust (outside of your husband): At any time during my travel, I could leave the baby with people I trusted. When I went swimming or played TT, my mum was taking care of the baby. My sister and her husband took the baby around the forests. It helps when you have people you trust and have them share the responsibility with you.
4. Travel when you’re still breastfeeding: My friend and her husband gave me this best advice. When you’re still breastfeeding, you don’t have to think twice about the baby’s food. Once they start eating other stuff, then you have to carry all kinds of food, cutlery, sterilizers, etc along with you.
5. Carry enough and more nappies: Being a trekker, I usually avoid packing for “if” situations. So I carried a bunch of nappies and 4 diapers for this trip. Turns out, my baby decided to poop 4 times within 2 hours that evening. So at 10 pm, I was left with no nappies and no diapers. My sister and her husband took the car out 4 km to find a provision store. They barely made it in time to get the diapers. You may not always get so lucky.

So those are all the tips and reasons to travel with your newborn.

I’ll end this post with a thank you to all of the people I made the first travel with. Thank you Raulo, appa, amma, Su, Aanu, Dorairaj uncle and Jaya aunty! :)

Changes You’ll Notice In Yourself After You Become A Mom

Eight years ago, in 2015, I was ranting about being a harried tax-payer, about the concept of marriage and about how I’d never have babies. Today, in 2023, taxes are the least of my worries! I am married, I have a 2-month-old baby swaddled next to me. I have been pooped on by her, peed on, spat-up on. This time though, I’m not ranting.

Over the past several weeks, I’ve noticed several changes in my behaviour. If you’re a new mom, you may notice these changes in your behaviour too. They’re sometimes nice, sometimes embarrassing, sometimes downright silly. Most of these behaviours, I think, are here to stay.

I thought I’d document the changes, to know that, once upon a time, before the baby was born, I was not all these things. :P If you’re about to be a mom, I thought you’d like to know these things too.

Let me tell you what these changes are:

1. You display affection a lot more freely.

If you have a baby, you’re going to shower it with love. You’re going to dote on it and think it’s the purest thing in the world. It’s natural.

But what’s strange is that you will notice this love extending to a lot of other people (and if you’re like me, animals). It’s a very adoring, caring kind of love, which I’m not very accustomed to. I’ve always been at the receiving end of this love, not at the giving end. But that seems to be changing.

For instance, a few days ago, my 17-year-old niece was sitting beside me. With no warning, I felt an urge to hug her and peck her on her cheek. This is SO weird for me, because I’m usually the one running away from hugs and any kind of display of affection.

Sharu is one person in office who always forcibly hugs me because she knows I don’t like hugs.

Similarly, when Puppy came home the other day, my parents sent her out immediately, because we have a newborn and she is a bit galeej (ಗಲೀಜು). But I heard myself saying “She’s the first baby of the house, before Ira came. Let her be.” I would have never said something so tacky before.

I think I’m still too embarrassed at this blatant display of love, especially with my own family members. We are the kind that get very awkward with affection. So it’s still a bit held back. But I continuously feel that instinctive love and care inside of me. It’s a strange new feeling.

This is Puppy, the first baby of the house. A picture form 2015.

2. You are instinctively ready to sacrifice yourself for your baby

Whether it’s your comfort, your likes and dislikes or even your life, your instinct puts your baby before yourself.

I noticed this at bath time. We have a gas geyser at home and I’ve always been a bit paranoid about gas leakages in the bathroom. It’s always been my parents who fill my bucket and then let me in the bathroom. This was true even until a day before the baby was born. (Yes, I’m quite pampered like that.)

But suddenly, things have taken a turn after the baby. I’m the one in the bathroom ensuring that the gas doesn’t leak, ensuring that the bucket is full and the gas cylinder is turned off before the baby is brought into the bathroom. I don’t want her to even breathe the gassy air.

It was only after 5 weeks or so that it hit me — that just like my parents were putting my safety above their own, I was doing that for my baby. I’ve become second priority to myself.

It was a telling moment when I realised that my baby’s life is more important to me than my own.

3. You become more superstitious

I’ve only ever been superstitious about one thing in my life — Arsenal. While watching games, I’m particular about where I sit, my sitting position, which screen I watch the match on, what I wear, etc. When they some times lose games (which doesn’t happen as often anymore), I curse myself for wearing the wrong t-shirt, or for missing 3 minutes of the match. I’ve followed all kinds of superstitious practices for them.

In all other aspects of life, I have frowned upon superstition.

Now, with the baby, I notice I’m again superstitious.

Everyday, when visitors come and admire the baby — “She’s so cute!” “She is such a gundu punduuuu!” “She is so adorable I wanna omnomnomnomn!” “She is growing so nicely!” — I’m constantly thinking Touch wood, Knock on Wood, etc etc.

I’m almost forcing my mum to “remove drushti” (ದೃಷ್ಟಿ) for the baby everyday, an Indian ritual, where they light some sticks and make a small flame in front of the baby. Another ritual is to immerse a handful of rock salt in water after showing it to the baby. Strangely, I feel a sense of contentment that nothing bad will happen to the baby after this ritual.

There’s another ritual, which I don’t know classifies as a superstition or not. It’s the ritual of putting something called bajey (ಬಜೆ) on the baby’s navel. It’s the root of a tree. There is actually a set of barks of trees, leaves, seeds, etc, that are rubbed on wood until some powder comes out. That powder is mixed with breast milk and smeared on the baby’s navel. A lot of other things seem to go on the baby’s navel, like castor oil, hing (asafetida), etc. I, for one, don’t understand the logic behind it, because we also put soap and cream near her navel.

Yet, I notice that when the baby is colicky and crying endlessly, I request my mom to put bajey. I seem to find some kind of mental peace doing so.

It’s a bit of a helpless feeling, when I don’t want to resort to medicines, but I want her problem to go away. I have also never prayed harder for anyone to get potty before. But now I do. It’s all purely comforting for the mind, as silly as it might be.

4. Your become incredibly fast.

Throughout my childhood, I always wondered why my mom finished her bath in 90 seconds. My dad would take 7-8 minutes, my sister would take a similar time, but my mum would enter the bathroom and exit in a flash. I thought it was just a habit she’d made.

Now I realise, most moms don’t have a choice. My showers (which used to last 10-12 minutes) now take less than 2 minutes. My meals take less than 3 minutes to eat, this is a complete three course meal. Even my peaceful Potty+Wordle time is now a 2 minute affair.

Every time I sit to do any of these things, the baby usually starts crying. My aunt was saying, “Babies know exactly when their mums start eating and time their cries exactly then.” It seems uncanny, but it’s true a majority of the time.

So you have no choice but to get very quick at everything you do.

It’s a complete contrast that your life slows down like hell. I wake up at 11 to make up for a sleep deficit. My meals are delayed, brushing my teeth delayed, bath delayed. ALL work gets delayed. For instance, I started this blog post when my baby was 40 days old. Now she is around 2.2 months old. That’s how much it got delayed. But when I sit to write, I write very fast.

So in a strange paradox, life becomes slow, but you become really fast.

5. You begin to truly understand and appreciate your mom

I feel mothers are always taken for granted. You don’t truly understand the extent to which she has dedicated her life to you unless you yourself become a mother. The sleepless nights, the constant feeding, the continuous presence, the care, the love and affection, the self-sacrificing dedication — this is all in just the first two months of the baby’s life.

But motherhood is a permanent commitment. The day your baby is born, your identity changes, if not in the eyes of others, it does in yours. You are not just Swathi anymore. You’re Ira’s mom. Your behaviour, your values, your lifestyle, your habits, your dressing, your language, your work, your food, your daily routine, they are all modified to suit the needs of the baby.

Even today, it is my mom helping me care for my baby, sacrificing her own sleep and meals. She has given me as much care as she has given my delicate infant. And I realise she has not stopped doing this for the past 32 years. From December 13th, 1990, all the way until today, my mom has been sacrificing herself to care for me.

I hope I’m at least half as good as her with my baby. If so, who knows, 30 years down the line, it may be me taking care of my baby’s future baby.

Okay, that’s too far into the future.

Let’s take it one day at a time.

But I’m glad that I became a mom to truly appreciate, admire and thank my mom for her time, dedication and the kind of upbringing she has given me. Without her, I’d be nothing.

Two precious people in my life. My mum and my baby

In conclusion:

These are some of the changes I’ve noticed in myself after becoming a mom. I don’t think I can remotely do justice to the kind of mental changes you go through (especially when I’m writing so shoddily with so many days of gaps in between), but this is just a small gist for memory’s sake.

If you’ve noticed any changes in yourself after becoming a mommy, and I’m sure you have, then please share it in the comments. I’m curious to know!

“Henn magu na? Hogli bidi!” | “You delivered a baby girl? Oho, it’s ok.”

During the last two months of my pregnancy, my stomach protruded immensely, like a football. It had grown highly disproportionate with my otherwise slender build.

This is as opposed to my stomach being wide and bulging from left to right.

This protruding shape was apparently “indicative of a baby boy.”

My football tummy

When I first heard about it, I was amused. I think it was a flower seller lady who bumped into me in my apartment lift.

She beamed at me and said, “You’re definitely having a boy.”

I asked her how can you tell?

She said, “See how your stomach is popping out. Usually when it’s popping out so prominently, it’s a boy. Girl babies don’t pop out so much,” she explained.

At first, I wrote it off as just another silly thing I’ve heard during pregnancy. There are so many other things I’ve heard.

Like, “How can you dress like this? Cover yourself up, wear a dupatta! Hide the bump!” (This is when i was wearing a completely normal kurta and chudidar.)

(Side topic: I never wanted to hide my tummy during my pregnancy, despite people, including strangers on the metro, advising me to. I never understood the logic that “drishti” will happen, “kann beelatte” etc. I wanted to celebrate every moment of those 9 months. I mean how else would people get up and give me a seat on the metro, hello? I had to milk it nicely. :P)

Nevertheless, more and more people started telling me that it would be a boy.

Like an aunty who lives in my apartment asked me, “Are you 9 months in?” studying my football tummy.

I said “No, I’m stepping into my 8th month.”

She raised an eyebrow and said, “Then you’re definitely having a boy.”

It was uncanny that most ppl who said it would be a boy gave me the exact same ಬಂಡಲ್ reason — the shape of my tummy. They were all so confident and proud of their knowledge that I almost started believing them! I told my husband too.

We spent nearly two months listing down boys’ names.

Except, the baby turned out to be a girl.

It was totally unexpected, yet always had a 50% probability.

All of us were extremely happy. We wanted a safe delivery and a healthy child, and we got both.

However, I noticed something funny.

A few days after the baby was born, people started calling to congratulate me.

Among them was my house maid. “Akka, congratulations! Huduga na, hudugi na? (Is it a boy or a girl?)” she asked.

I told her it was a girl.

“Hudugi na? Hogli bidi. Neevu hegidira?” (Girl ah? Oho, it’s okay, leave it. How are you?)

I did some small talk and we ended the call. I didn’t pay much attention to the gender reaction.

A similar conversation repeated when my car washer person called me. “Henn magu na? Hogli bidi.”

This time, it didn’t escape my attention. His response was like I won a consolation prize.

I shared this reaction with my mum, that people were unconsciously reacting this way, that a girl child is “just ok.”

Then she began noticing it too. The watchman told my mum “henn magu na? Hogli bidi.”

Poor guy. My mum went all Mrs. Weasley on him, her hands on her hips, and said, “what do you mean hogli bidi!”

Caught off guard, the watchman said he meant nothing and awkwardly deflected the conversation.

My dad faced a similar instance, when an acquaintance of his said, “aiyo henn magu na?” (Oh god a girl child!). My dad gave him a piece of his mind too.

It was after all these conversations that I realised how the society still, in 2023, prefers a male child.

Many times, at the scanning centres, I had wondered why they had such loud posters against gender determination. On every wall would be a poster that said in capital letters, “Gender determination not done here.”

Equally common were “Save the girl child” posters.

From my naive, cushy world, I would think “Who still does gender-specific abortion n all. So archaic! Why not legalise gender determination. What’s the big deal?”

And I have now realised the big deal. A large part of our country still believes in the supremacy of male children. The reasons could be anything — economical, religious, superstitious. But it still reigns.

For instance, the lady who comes to bathe my baby has five children. The first four were girls, and they kept going until a male was born.

Even in mountain villages, where my work often takes me, I see so many instances where children are continuously produced until a male is born.

Unfortunately, it is also true that in many of these sections of the society, a girl child is not considered “economically viable.”

In most of these families, girls are not allowed to take over the family business, they cannot take the family name forward, they cannot even work/study beyond a certain point. They barely finish school before they are married off and expected to have kids. They are considered liabilities and not assets. This is still the harsh reality of most girl children in the country.

Thankfully, my life has been devoid of such blatant patriarchy because of a modern value-based upbringing. We’ve been brought up liberally, just like any other boys our age.

There are, of course, several instances of discrimination I’ve noticed in other walks of life, but not in a life-altering or career-threatening way.

For instance I still don’t like it that the woman is the primary kitchen head. This is the case in almost every single household I know, including mine, no matter how modern. It’s a practice that needs years and years to be turned to a 50-50 responsibility.

I don’t like it that it’s always the male who is expected to be the bread-winner in the house. I believe that too should be a 50-50 responsibility. It especially bothers me when talented young women just decide to end their careers after getting married, instead of making a mark in their fields.

I don’t like that most traditional rituals are all male centric (at least from what I’ve observed in Hindu rituals).

I don’t like that the woman is expected to take on her husband’s name after marriage. Or is expected to move to the husband’s home. Similarly, I don’t like that a child is expected to take on the father’s name (especially given it is the mom who carries the baby in her womb for nine months and is the primary caregiver for the child).

There are several areas of life that require change to bring about equality among genders. Possibly, these are the very same reasons that the society prefers a male child, because it’s simply more convenient in our society.

But I hope by the time my baby grows up, these practices will wean away. I don’t want any patriarchal norms to rule over her. Not at home, not in the society.

In my personal life, I have enjoyed the luxury of gender equality. Even after my marriage, I have not faced any gender bias because of liberal in-laws. In my work space, I work with women who have achieved extraordinary things no matter what gender barriers they have faced. I consider myself privileged. I’m sure it will only get better in future for my baby.

Hopefully, one day she will show anyone who thinks “henn magu na? hogli bidi” that a girl child is no consolation prize. She can turn the world around if she wants to!

So you’re pregnant! Get ready for the most intrusive experience of life!

I just delivered a baby girl 12 days ago, 13 days ago, 15 days ago, 20 days ago.

I’ve been meaning to document a lot of the journey, right from my pregnancy to the delivery to the baby and after that too. I have thoughts everyday that “I must write this.” But as expected, this is the story of my life:

Illustration by this person on Instagram.

However, today, I have taken time off my precious sleeping hours.

I have so many topics in mind — all the unsolicited advice I got while pregnant, how I’m being treated as a new mom, how people have reacted to my baby’s gender, etc etc.

But I’ll start with what has stood out to me the most during and after pregnancy — the intrusion that comes at every step.

Now, the word “intrusion” itself seems a bit rude, especially because all those who are “intruding” mean well. But the physical and mental intrusion I’ve experienced have been so high over the past 9 months that I feel those who have a mindset like me must be prepared.

What mindset do I have?

I have always been private about my life, my body, my mind. I prefer sharing my thoughts only with a few select people. As for my emotions, they’re usually limited to me and my partner.

But this whole pregnancy experience has thrown me heavily off my norm.

I’ve had tearful outbursts in front of people (for no reason whatsoever). I’ve had my body examined in all sorts of ways. And it all seems to be a completely normal part of pregnancy.

Let me shed some light on what you need to be prepared for:

1. The regular check-ups with your gynecologist:

Okay, this is the first and most obvious intrusion once you learn you’re pregnant. I started by visiting two gynecs close to my home.

The first one did not work for me, she just didn’t instill confidence with her communication.

The second one did a trans-vaginal scan with no warning whatsoever. I would have liked to know about what they’re going to insert, where, how, and why. But everything came as a surprise. After that visit, I somehow could not get myself to trust her with decisions / advice.

So I ditched both the docs and went to my aunt, a gynecologist who delivered me 33 years ago. She was almost angelic throughout my pregnancy.

Every few weeks, I would visit her for a check-up, and she would do a small cervical examination every time and know exactly how I was faring in my pregnancy. Initially, I would feel very embarrassed at this whole check-up. But after the first two times, I got used to it and got comfortable with it. I figured that if she had to pull a baby out of my cervix, these were but small “intrusions.”

The one intrusion I did not mind when I was pregnant. All the doggos who fawned over me.

2. Then came the ultrasound scans:

I’ll admit, the scans were not very intrusive. They were mostly ultrasound scans where I had to bare my tummy and let the obstetrician do their probing and studying. Here too, I had a gem of an obstetrician, who was a trekker and would chat away throughout the scan, making me feel at ease.

It got awkward only when I went to a different scanning person one day and it turned out to be a male obstetrician. I found it odd to bare anything in front of him, especially since he did not ask questions / engage in conversation / tell me how the baby was doing. He was almost brusque and impatient during the scan and made me feel like just getting over with it.

If you’re particular that you have a woman do the scan, you can request your scanning centre. But whether it’s man / woman, it’s better to go to someone who comes with a good recommendation from someone you know. All my scans were at Srinivasa Ultrasound Scanning Centre, which has a reputation as one of the best ultrasound scanning centres for over 25 years.

3. Then came the prep to bring out the baby through normal delivery

If I had a penny for every time I felt intruded before the delivery, I’d probably be a 2-day millionaire!

My delivery was carefully planned for December 26th. Two days afore, my aunt (doctor) had mentioned that the baby didn’t seem to be growing anymore inside the womb. It was better to get it out than keep it in.

So she would try to induce labour, and if that wasn’t successful, she would do a C-section. She would start the process in the morning on December 26th and take the final call in the afternoon.

Surprisingly, when I went to meet her on the morning of Dec 26th, unaware to my own body, I was already having contractions. She told me this when she examined me. But I couldn’t feel a thing. None of what TV people went through.

My cervix was still tight shut. So she would still need to induce labour.

Labour is induced by slowly injecting oxytocin into your body through IV drips.

My first emotional exposure happened here, when they attached the cannula to my hand. I had seen my dad go through this several times and shuddered at the thought of it. This time, the back of my palm was under this unwanted limelight.

When they inserted the needle on the back of my hand, tears immediately gushed out of my eyes. This was not in the privacy of a room. This was at the entrance of the hospital, where all those getting admitted had to get their weight, BP, etc checked and IV readied if required. By the time they got done (all of 90 seconds), I was covered in tears. My mum saw me tearing up and she teared up too. (I know, dramatic family!)

Just when I thought the worst was over, I overheard my aunt talking to the nurses. Just one word caught my attention — enema. Just the word send a horrifying chill down my spine.

I had a vague idea of what an enema was. I had also read all about how women pass motion during delivery. Compared to an enema, the embarrassment of the latter seemed to be better.

Right there, I began squirming in my bed. I requested the nurses to leave it be. “I’ve already been to the loo! I’m on an empty stomach. I have not even had water since 7 am. An enema is not required. Please!”

But they had to do what they had to do. They moved me to a private room.

They changed me out of my regular clothes into the standard hospital gown that hardly covers any part of you from the back.

A nurse came, turned me over and within 5 painless seconds, she finished the enema procedure.

So much so that I asked her, “That’s it?”

I had built up all sorts of terrifying images in my head. And this was almost an anti-climax. I didn’t have enough time to even feel embarrassed.

Over the next 45 minutes, the enema made me empty my intestines completely.

Once that was done, they hooked me onto drips to induce labour.

How does it work? Through drips, they inject oxytocin into your body. First slowly and then a little more rapidly if your body is responding.

Your body gradually begins to recognise the oxytocin level and gets contractions. With contractions, your cervix softens up and starts to create a tunnel for the baby to come out. (This is my imagination of how it works. Nothing sciency about it.)

Unfortunately, nothing happened to my body. Cervix didn’t open. It was clammed shut. No tunnel for the baby and its 34 cm circumference head.

Me pretending to be chill during the drips.

So by 1 pm, my aunt decided to do a C-section.

4. Then came the final prep to do a C-section:

As soon as my aunt gave the green signal for a C-section, it was like a thunderstorm arrived. Around 6 nurses bustled into the room and got into action. They had to insert a catheter. They had to shave my incision site. They had to inject a few medicines into my arm. Change the medicine in the drips. They had to do a cervical examination and see what’s happening inside.

The shaving, injecting and cervical examination all happening quickly. The nurses scuttled about with practiced hands. I was lying there, completely exposed, just a thin curtain still maintaining whatever was left of my privacy from the outside world.

The worst experience of all was the insertion of the catheter. I did not know what inserting a catheter meant. I thought it would be a painless affair, and how wrong I was!

I screamed in agony when they inserted it. I bawled shamelessly, like a newborn baby. More than the pain itself, the suddenness of everything had overwhelmed me. I was suddenly terrified of going through a surgery, knowing that coming up next was a spinal anesthesia.

When the nurses got done, I was still crying uncontrollably. I didn’t want anyone to see me this way.

But just as my luck would have it, when the nurses drew the curtain, standing there were not only my mum, my sister and my husband (with a horrified look on his face), but also my cousin, her husband, and two of my young nieces — possibly more terrified than I was by just looking at my face.

Here I was, a complete shambles, lying in my own sweat and tears, and here was an audience to see this version of me.

That’s when I gave up.

I could not continue to be conscious about what the world would think. My life was exposed, so be it.

5. Then came the actual Caesarian Surgery:

Before I could say anything to anyone, I was lifted off the bed onto a stretcher and wheeled away into a lift. A bunch of smiling and anxious faces floated above me, wishing me good luck. And then the world was suddenly shut away as I entered the lift.

I was wheeled into the OT, where I was still crying fearfully.

My aunt came in and said, “You’re such a tough girl, climbing mountains and trekking all the time. You’re going to do this easily.”

I admitted to her that I was extremely panicky about being in an OT and getting a spinal anesthesia.

She said it would be a cakewalk.

Meanwhile, the anesthetist was right beside me and telling me how his wife was a regular trekker with Indiahikes. I was too freaked to even react.

They dabbed the middle of my back with something cold, possibly to numb the injection site. Again, within 5 seconds, the spinal anesthesia was done and I didn’t even realise it.

“In a few seconds, you’ll feel warm in your legs and then you’ll feel nothing below your hips,” advised the anesthetist.

After this, they attached a BP monitor to my left arm and an oxymeter to my right hand middle finger. The constant beep beep of the monitors kept me company for the next 45 minutes. A whiteboard on my left had my name, my blood group, the surgery type, my aunt’s name, anesthetist’s name. Bright circular lights shined overhead. Images from episodes of House ran through my head for a few seconds.

But slowly I got comfortable, and even a bit chatty, just as 5 people started cutting me open.

I even remember joking with my aunt, “Now that you’ve cut me open, can you just peer about and check my other organs too?”

In the middle of these conversations, just like that, a beautiful and healthy girl of 2.7 kg was born at 3.27 pm.

I remember tearing up as they showed her to me, a tiny ball of limbs still covered in slime. They were small tears of joy, unlike all other tears I had shed through the day.

The surgery ended within 25 minutes.

Just as all the drama had begun, all the drama ended. The doctors vanished after they finished the surgery, leaving me lying there staring at the roof.

A minute turned into five. Five minutes turned into ten. The baby was not there. The doctors were not there. I thought they forgot and left me behind.

I turned my neck around and saw a male nurse seated on the floor, leaning on the wall, busy Instagramming away.

I asked him, “Can you take me out?”

He said “Hold on, we need to monitor you for a while and make sure nothing goes wrong.”

So I sat there, counting seconds. I just wanted to get out and be with everyone again. I wanted to see my husband, my baby, my family. All of them who had seen me go through all kinds of embarrassing things and stood by me like rocks.

After what felt like eternity, at around 4.05 pm, I was wheeled out of the OT and taken back to the ward.

All the floating anxious faces wore big smiles this time. Congratulations flowed! I remember asking around for the baby.

Finally, after a while they brought the baby and put her next to me. I was unable to do much, since I was anthetized. It would take me until night to get back any sensation.

But I sat there, next to the baby, thinking the same cliched line every mom thinks after giving birth — it was all worth it.

6. The intrusions continue post-partum

After a couple of days, I was back home. Still no privacy, despite being under house arrest.

A lady has been hired to give me a bath.

People flow in an out of the house and I breast feed the baby. I am yet to learn how to do this comfortably.

In conclusion, when I reflect on the whole journey, the intrusion is only momentary. It’s natural too. Your body, your mind, your spirit, in some way or the other are meant to be shared, especially when something good will come out of it.

So if you’re pregnant, be ready for the intrusion. Physical, mental, everything.

But also be ready for a whole lot of goodness and good will that comes out of it.

If you need help, and would like to ask questions you’re embarrassed to ask, ask me. I have asked all embarrassing questions and been through embarrassing moments and gotten solid answers!

Until next time!