The story of the bitter infertile and her fertile friend

I, obviously, am the bitter infertile in this story. My friend N and I have been friends for over 17 years. N got married in February 2008 and got her BFP in April. I was 14-15 weeks along at that time. The news of her pregnancy was not tough on me, as I had my own miracle baby growing inside me. I was a little confused on how some people have it so easy? But otherwise, we went through our pregnancy together, and it was fun to have someone to share each and every aspect of this wonderful experience. Danny was born on 16th Sept at 37 weeks. N's son was born on 12th Dec at 39 weeks. There was a sense of competition straight away. Who is cuter? Who s the better mom? N actually asked my as to how Danny was so fair given that M is dark? and kept saying that her son should have been fairer given that both N and her DH are fair. I too, kept comparing our sons and how and when they met their milestones.

I started feeling a distance between us. She did not approve of My style of parenting. N's son still does not sleep through the night and asks to be breastfed at least 2-3 times a night. She posted on FB about this and asked what she should do. I replied wit what I had done - controlled CIO. and she replied "I am not that kind of a mom. I cant see my son crying". That really hurt me. and then when I met her in May this year she commented "Oh! Danny whines so much" Yes, Danny is a cry baby. he cries More than other kids but who likes to hear their friend say that in front of 10 other people?

And then it happened. I called N last week and she said "I have some news" I immediately blurted out "You are pregnant". and yes she is! She is 9 weeks along and had no idea she was pregnant. They were not trying and were not sure they wanted to continue the pregnancy. I swear I didn't expect the way I felt. I felt the same gut wrenching pain I used to feel earlier in the IF journey. I said "I am so jealous" She said why? You are adopting. She is absolutely right obviously. I am not even TTC (officially). I know my daughter will be here in a year or so. Yet, I felt that pain that I cannot even describe. It was so unreasonable. I just do not understand how people get pregnant *Just*Like*That!

I talked myself out of that pain somehow. I hugged danny, and thanked the universe for my little miracle. I know I needed to support N. So called her again yesterday. She has decided to continue with the pregnancy. I was 100% with her. and the she said "but why are you adopting? Why don't you to BD and it will be fun to pregnant together again." I lost it then.  am not proud of it. I almost shouted "BECAUSE I CANNOT GT PREGNANT just like that. You think we haven't had unprotected sex these 2 years? It doesn't happen so easily to me." I guess I should have expected her response. I am not the only person who has trouble conceiving. But nobody else it seems cribs the way I do.

I should simply shut up about this infertility shit. That's what N said. I obviously have no right to feel pain and talk about it wit my friend of 17 years.

I no longer feel we are friends. It feel so sad but it feels like all we have in common now is our past. It hurts me. Would it have been the same without IF? Has infertility really made me so bitter and cynical?

Being a single parent...

No, no! its not what you think! M and I are still together, working our way through a messy period of marriage. Things are better, but we have a long way to go - but that's a whole different post altogether.

I have been MIA for how long now? too long to remember actually. My stupid laptop keyboard broke down and I had no time to get it repaired. And then I went away to delhi for 3 glorious weeks (did nothing but laze around - bliss!) Came back and it was the festive season. I continued to follow your blogs but obviously could not comment due to my stupid keyboard. I am at an internet cafe right now so catching up. (Note to elf: get your keyboard repaired asap)

Now back to being a single parent. M has taken this 45 day Aiyyappa Diksha. He comes at 7am  and leaves at 930 am, just 2 and a half hours each day! That more or less makes me a single mom yeah? its just been 4 days. 41 days to go. wish me luck girls.

Danny turned 2 last month. He is just awesome. my skinny bubba. He talks, man does he talk. He is already talking in 6-7 word sentences in 4 different languages. he knows 3-4 rhymes. But cannot recognize any colour, I wonder whats up? He can count 1-10 (not always in order though).

Okay this got to do for now.

I leave you with some pics.

A blog with substance

One of my favourite bloggers, Aisha just passed on this wonderful award. 

Thanks so much Aisha! Aisha is a fellow desi and I love to read her posts because I feel she speaks my language. And her comments are always insightful. 

The rules are simple:

Name 7 random things about yourself and nominate 7 bloggers.

Here are some random facts about me:

• ·         I never ate eggs on the day of my exams. You know egg=circle= zero? Stupid, I know.

• ·         Till I stated working in 2003, I had a haircut every 2-3 months and my hairstylist was my brother!

• ·         I am still friends with all but one of my exes. The one I am not friends with was the one I was engaged to for 4 years and who cheated on me. His loss really, don’t you think?

• ·         I was a raving hypochondriac as a teenager! Not so much now thankfully.

• ·         I hate shopping. And bargaining. I just go and pick up the first thing I see.

• ·         I have no cousins. My dad was an only child. So is my mom. My parents made up for the lack of relatives by having 5 kids! My 3 sisters and brother are all the family I have.

• The first time I smoked was when I was a 15 year old. I stole some of my sister’s boy friends ciggis and took them to school – an all girls school that too and smoked in the loo with my kick ass friends.

·         And now to pass on this award to seven of my favourite bloggers.

StElsewhere – She is just an amazing blogger and an even more amazing human. It helps that she is a fellow Indian.

Esperanza and JJiraffe – I love the way these woman write. Most of time I get so involved with what they have written that I forget to comment!

Deborah– A recent bloggy friend who is just so human. I totally feel at home at her blog. She is a great support too.

Athena – My favourite Aussie! I simply adore this lady and her blogs are just out of this world.

ThirtiesGirl – Brave, brave!

The Smart One – What can I say about her that hasn’t been said before?

Being a Stay at home mom...

I never ever thought I would be a SAHM! That was just not me. When I got my BFP, I left my job because I was forced. The Doctor wanted me not to travel during the first 12 weeks. It was tough for I was the primary earner of the family at that point of time. But my baby came first. There was no way in hell I was taking any chance with my pregnancy. I worked from on and off, thinking I would stat working when D was 6 months old. The first 6 months, I had no time to even understand what was happening. I felt so rushed and out of sorts. When D turned 6 months old, I started looking out for a job but reality hit hard. I could find no job that did justice to my education and experience.

For some one like me, who loves the outdoors, who simply loves to talk with people, being a SAHM is tough. Don't get me wrong. I do cherish each moment I spend with Danny. But I KNOW that I would have been a better mother if I spent a few hours outside, on my own each day. Last month, I finally got that perfect job offer.

But I am still a SAHM. There is nobody I can leave Danny with while I work. I couldn't find a nanny who was reliable and cost effective. The daycare scene here in India is not really that good. All the good day cares are just too far. My MIL cannot come and look after D as she is staying and looking after my SIL's kids (aged 10 & 5) while my SIL and her husband work in Singapore.

MIL did suggest that I drop D at her place each morning and pick him up in the evenings. But that would have added almost 3 hours of travel time to the normal travel time of 2 hours. Travelling 5 hours each day? Doesn't sound too god does it?

So here I am, working from home. Trying to tell myself how lucky I am that I get to stay at home. But honestly? I wish it was otherwise. I am not very happy with the way I parent at the moment. I hate cooking, I hate doing household chores (other than cleaning). I am just not a domestic person. Some of you may judge me. Does the fact that I want to work make me a bad mom?

Who am I?

Whenever I tell people that my husband is Telugu and that we had an interregional marriage people (mostly unmarried women) go “OH! How sweet”…

I am a Bengali, who was born and brought up in Delhi, and am married to a born and brought up in Hyderabad Telugu. Thanks to the Internet, we met, fell in love and decided to get married. The fact that he belonged to a different culture and spoke an alien language was never an issue with me. I wasn’t much of a Bengali myself. Growing up, I was surrounded by Punjabi friends and was more at home with rajma chawal then maachh bhaat. My ex boss even began calling me ‘fake Bengali’. Can’t blame her really, after all I don’t fit into the typical Bengali women image at all. A typical Bengali is ‘supposed’ to love sweet (I don’t), Maachh (gave up non-vegetarian food at 19), and Bengali literature (My only exposure to Bengali literature were my school text books!)

So I considered myself to be the multi cultural woman, at home with all differing cultures, capable of adapting and adopting different ways of life…

The problems started when we started discussing the wedding logistics. They wanted the wedding to be in Hyderabad, I said Delhi, They agreed but only if the wedding was conducted in the typical Telugu tradition. I agreed. I was already learning the sine qua non of marriage – Compromising! The eight hour long marriage ceremony gave me a glimpse of the things to come. The muhurat was for 3 in the morning! And we were sitting in the mandap from 10pm! And it all ended at 6 am! I was later informed that the Pandit had actually taken liberty and cut short the wedding rituals!

As I made my way to the station after the marriage, leaving behind everything I knew, loved and understood, my sister whispered in my ears “Best of luck”. I knew at that moment that my life had changed forever; the adventure had begun!In the train I sat surrounded by my new family, all chattering away, laughing at jokes I didn’t understand. I must have looked stupid sitting there staring at their faces, I must have been trying my hand at telepathy I guess…What were they saying?? I clung to my husband, not because I was home sick (that hadn’t set in yet) but because I could talk to him. He spoke my language!!!!

In Hyderabad, a constant stream of my husband’s relatives came to inspect the new bride. Well, they were not too happy of course. They had hoped for a nice traditional Telugu bride, and here I was: the shorthaired, salwar clad girl from Delhi. They came, smiled and asked me “do you know Telugu?” I replied with the only word I had managed to learn “Kuncham kuncham” (A little). That satisfied them for the time being. …

Meal times were a punishment. The food! It was rice in the afternoon, rice for dinner, and at times even for breakfast! I missed my daily dose of chapattis! If I had to eat them, I had to make them myself. Well I decided that is was easier to learn to appreciate rice (thanks to my Bengali genes I guess!)…I also learned the art of drifting into my world of daydreams, while my eyes wore the look of intense involvement in the conversation-taking place around me, of which I couldn’t decipher a word!

And how can I forget those never ending rituals, which were very much a part of my husband’s family, but were completely alien to me. Before marriage, the one event that was remotely religious to me was Durga Puja, and that too had lost its sheen over time… I was a spiritualist who did not believe in Idol worship, who was married into a family whose idea of a vacation was going for a pilgrimage!

Five years have passed,I still crave to hear Bangla. I call and speak to my mother for hours, some times just for the pleasure of hearing the beautiful language that’s my mother tongue.

Now everything ‘Bengali’ appeals to me. I have re-discovered Rabindranath Tagore, I enjoy the neo-Bengali rock music. The ‘shakha pola’ are my ultimate fashion accessories; I could even smell Durga Pujo in the air last October! I have discovered the Bengali in me. Now a simple Bengali phrase heard in the bus puts a big grin on my face, now my interests lingers on the Bengali channels for a little while longer then usual….

I miss the much-hated Delhi winter chill, sitting under the razai, eating moongfalis and indulging in some heated adda sessions.

I am adapting to Hyderabad too, and it almost feels like home now, but can it ever replace the city and culture I left behind? This feeling has nothing do with regionalism and everything to do with a sense of identity. Inter-regional marriages are ‘sweet’ all right, but they are also lots of hard work and understanding. I have realized that my individuality means a lot to mean and I have also learned to draw a line on how much I am willing to compromise. I don’t ask my husband to learn Bengali and he doesn’t ask me to learn Telugu. Both of us have our distinct eccentric identities, and I don’t think either of us has to give up on our beliefs to make this marriage work. Now that Danny is here, I atleast have someone to talk with in Bengali!

Just for Laughs

Why I almost lost it....

This post contains facts that no one even in my family are aware of. I needed to be honest and look at all that I have faced and share it. I have pretended to be alright for way to long but now I DO have reasons to smile...

My life after marriage was tough, to say the least. I had several fights with my MIL and SIL. My MIL sold my husband’s family home and shifted to stay with her daughter. We were forced to move into a rented house with my husbands 78 year old grandmother and 8 year old brother. We were paying off a huge loan my husband had taken to marry his sister off. Things were tough but as both my husband and I were working we managed okay and even managed buy an under construction house.

But things took a turn for the worse when I got pregnant in 2009. I was forced to quit my job as mine was a high risk pregnancy. It was almost impossible to manage paying a loan, monthly EMI’s plus taking care of a family with only my husbands salary. So we decided to put our house for sale. That was in 2009 March. But we found no buyers. Soon we had used up all our savings to pay the EMI’s and had nothing left. We had no option but to default on our EMI’s. We lost our house. We lost our dream.

Our financial struggles continued as it was really difficult to look after a young baby, a teenager and an old lady. At the end of each month we had no money left. I struggled to attend meeting due to the lack of money. And when my son fell ill, I had to sell my gold necklace to pay for the treatment.

I was also struggling with my health in this time. I sufferd from severe body aches and acute exhaustion. In fact the tiredness was so bad that when I woke up in the mornings I used to feel like I had just run a marathon. No doctor was able to give me a correct diagnosis.

My brother, whom I love like my own son, was also struggling and that was making me feel very helpless. He worked hard but never got credited for it. Other’s always seemed to find favour with is boss while he was left behind.

My parents house in Delhi was breaking down. After my father’s death, we had tried to look after the house but after marriage the responsibility had fallen on our brother. With his low salary he found it extremely difficult to do anything. The house’s wiring had all but birn4d off. Only two rooms had lights. My mom actually cooked with the candle burning. The windows had all broken off. So bad was the situation that after every rain fall water would enter our drawing room. WE feared that the rain would actually wash away the house. Living in that house was so difficult that I had not gone there with my son after his birth and stayed with my sisters each time I went to Delhi. We were trying to sell the house since 2009 and had found no buyers yet again.

My brother was so depressed with his life that one day he called me crying, saying he cannot breath, saying that he loved me. I feared for his life. I thought I was losing my brother. He was rushed to the hospital due to panic attacks.

I was losing the battle. By the end of 2010, I was close to a nervous breakdown.

Now my reason to smile:

I was finally given a diagnosis - Fibromyalgia. Now I can manage my health much better.

M appeared for his LLM entrance exam and secured 16^th rank all over AP

My relation with my Mil and SIL changed completely. So much so that when my SIL’s husband returned from Singapore this last month, he bought us a gift – a 32 inch LED TV!

He is also sponsoring my husband’s my husband’s LLM course.

My brother finally got some credit at work and was awarded employee of the quarter by his employees. He won it among thousands of employees from all over the world.

My MIL transferred Rs 1 lac to my husband’s account. That’s the exact amount we needed to pay off our dept. We are now debt free, first time in 5 years! We can start saving now.

Last Tuesday, our Delhi home was finally sold. My brother got a very good price. He can now buy a new house, and a car and save some money too! He can now start a new life.

One day, I will own a house. I promise.

Bad Mother?

I really really needed to read this today. Was feeling like bad mother, a failure. Then I read this.

Your children are lucky to have you as a mom, because no one else could do it the same way as you.

You are special being you! You are good enough being yourself. Until you get that, all of your parenting will be hard and will suffer.

If you believe that you are not good enough, your children will pick up on that thought and believe they are not good enough either. Is that what you want? I didn't think so. So, you have to believe in yourself right now.

I am a good enough mom.I am a great mom, being myself.I am the perfect mom for my children right now.

So, you don't believe it yet? Well, that's because you may not be expressing that perfection that you are, as of yet. But the first step is in realizing and believing that deep inside, the real, authentic you IS good enough, perfect enough, enough, enough, enough, just the way you are. You don't have to go changing a thing.

Write those affirmations above out, three times. And then read them outloud, three times, even if you don't believe them yet. Because, the more you say them, the closer you will get to believing them. And then, when you are being yourself in your mothering, it WILL be perfect, perfectly YOU!

And your children will see that you are good enough and perfect being yourself. Which, in turn, helps them to believe that they are good enough being themselves.

If you want your mothering to be fun, easy and fulfilling, BE YOURSELF! Without conditions, without judgments, just BE YOURSELF! And then it won't matter what the Jones' or the Smiths' are doing or saying, because you are being yourself and that is the greatest thing in the world!
What others do and say is their responsibility and what you do and say is yours.

There are many parenting experts out there that feed on your fears of not being enough. Time has come to claim your own power back. To stop listening to the experts and listen to YOURSELF. You have your own perfect and good enough answers within. And it is time to discover them.

The idea of the perfect mom is gone. It is time to replace it with the idea of the perfect you. The best you can do is your best, until you decide to do better. And then it is your choice, not the choice of a "should" or a "mother-in-law" or "your neighbor" or even your "spouse".
Comparing will get you no where! How could you even compare an apple and an orange? Each one is fundamentally different. Yes, they are both fruit and yes, you and your neighbor are both moms, but each one is unique and special in their own way. YOU are unique and special in your own way!

I am unique and special being me!I am good enough! I am great!I love myself for being myself!I deserve fun, easy and fulfilling parenting!My children deserve a fun, easy and fullfilled mom!

17 dead, 100 injured

Another serial blast in Bombay. Seventen people have already died. Hundred injured. The death toll will go up.

But the saddest part? I no longer feel distraught. I saw the news. Made a few calls and simply moved onto an Adam Sandler movie. Terrorism has become a part of life here in India. I wish things were different but I am afraid the innocence is truly gone. Terrorism is here to stay, so are bomb blasts. It feel disgust that I feel this way. But that's just how I feel right now. As M just said, bomb blast feels like seasons now. They are recurring. They might not happen for sometime, but they will happen. They will come. There is no way I can imagine our Government stop them. How do you provide security to a country so crowded? Yes, I feel helpless....completely, utterly helpless......

These are a few of my favourite things...

I am still here in Hyderbad. We are seeing a marriage counsellor. and I am trying hypnotherapy for my issues. I have decided not to blog about my marrriage and m because things are very raw right now and I don't some one to read my blog and talk to M about it. Now is not the time to be brave. In a few months I will talk about it again.
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Till then I have decided to concentrate on all that I love, all that's good in my life. Starting with RAIN!

It rained today, and it feels like heaven .Everything looks pure and pristine. The trees are dancing to a silent song I long to hear. The birds are happy too I guess. I can hear them sing. I watch the raindrops fall on my window, and I remember the days gone by.Days spent with friends, jumping over puddles, singing along our favorite songs, without a care in the world, playing cricket in the rain (yes we did that!).And today all those days are just memories, beautiful memories that makes me cry. Days have fled.On days like today, when things are perfect, my heart just flies back in time, why cant I relive those moments?  I know I cant, and that’s what makes things more difficult.I am reminded of a song ‘Its yesterday once more’.So true to what I feel now...I know this feeling will pass, and I will go on living my present life as I should..

But this moment, when the memories refuse to leave me alone, when all I want is to be a 13 year old again, is precious too. Friends, I miss them so.Maybe, just maybe, if I had my friends around, I wouldn’t feel so alone on a beautiful day like today, if they were around I would have created new memories with them. But then I realize - How lucky am I to have these memories? To have friends who have stuck with me these last twenty years? How many are lucky to have such good freinds? So okay they are not around physically..but all I need to do is pick up the phone and talk to them. and then there are the memories...And I went out and got wet. Looked up into the sky and thanked the universe. The rain drops fell on my face and I remembered a song from long ago "Rimjhim girey sawan" all is good with the world. The rain still is my friend. and I have another moment that has become a beautiful memory.

And life seems perfect, right now right here. This is my god, this is my heaven. 

Wordless Wednesday

21

 21 months!! Danny is now going to school. Three hours a day/five days a week. He couldn't have been happier. He is now completely potty trained and speaks three languages. Trying hard to teach him a fourth. He is skinny...under fiver percentle for weight and in the 25th percentile for height. But he is adorable..for ME :). I love more each day. He is one smart cookie and knows how to get his way. When he wants something he will beg his dada "Dada PLEAJE" ...and has learned some good manners too. Never forgets to say "thank you mamma" when I give him something.

Are you happily married?

I was just reading Mel’s latest post where she wrote about her relation with her husband. While I was reading it, I felt my heart grow heavier...That was ‘us’! That’s how M and I were as a couple. We completed each other. So what went wrong? Actually M doesn’t think or realize that something is wrong. He loves me. And I still adore him. Yet, I am not happy. Is it just me? Do I have some unrealistic expectation from this marriage? What exactly do I want? M asks me that every time I try and talk this out with him. The problem is ‘I don’t know’! My IRL friends tell me that I am the lucky one, that they would have loved to have a husband like mine.

M just completed his LLB and is now pursuing LLM. That’s his passion. I don’t begrudge him that. I am completely blown away by his will to pursue his passion. He goes to college during the mornings then does 2pm to 10pm office shift. Comes home, and ‘tries’ to be as good a father as he can be. Although, he is slacking in this department off late, but according to my friends, I have it good. That their husbands don’t help them out AT ALL.

The thing is, I don’t compare M with others. He is not doing as well as he could have financially. But I am okay with that. I don’t hold that against him. After all, it’s me who is not working and contributing to the household income.

I know he loves me. So what is it? Maybe it is the fact that we hardly have any physically intimacy anymore? One of the things I have always complained about is him spending too much time with his friends. He still does that. But that is not the only problem. The problem is that even if he is home a whole weekend, I am not happy. We sit together, watching TV, having nothing to talk about. Or he sleeps. No, I am not painting a genuine picture here. Its not all gloomy. M is happy, he cracks jokes. He doesn’t understand why I am unhappy. But I want to talk. I want to laugh with him again.

I don’t care if he spends half of his weekends with his friends. I am realizing its quality of time I need, not quantity. But how do I do it? How do I become the people we were? Both of us? Because I know I have changed too. And the only person I can expect to change is me. Funnily enough, this has nothing to do with Danny’s birth. The rut started before Danny was born. It has just become increasingly worse. One of the biggest reason is that I DONOT have a life outside of M. I don’t make friends easily. I need people who understand my eccentricity and accept them before I can become friends with them. The women I am surrounded by here, though wonderful in their own way, are just not the people I can hang around with.

This weekend was so wonderful because I got to hang around with my SILs, drink and laugh, and TALK. It was wonderful. I realized how much missed all that.

I understand that problem in my marriage is more because of ME then HIM. But the point is, how do I change that? I love M. I seriously do. As Mel talked about in her post, M too is that missing piece of my brain. I cannot imagine life without him. I tried. I went to Delhi, thinking I would see how it feels. Stayed away from him, didn’t call. I was MISERABLE!

Is this how all marriages are?