I have gone through hell when I was childless for seven years. It used to be terrible when relatives and family members of my hubby kept taunting and insulting me for unable to give birth to a child. Not that I never conceived. I did, but suffered three miscarriages and an abortion when the growth of foetus stopped at some stage.
The insults varied from not inviting me to the functions like naming ceremony of babies, choroonu, 28th day ceremony etc. The more painful thing was women refusing to give their baby to my hands! The worst part was when a dirty old man had even tried to explain on how to get pregnant and make babies...
When my hubby's family used to mock at us by sending the pics of their divorced elder son's kid every month, we both used to get upset. My hubby never asked them to stop sending the pics, as he always felt that it would hurt his family members. He silently suffered whenever he saw his divorcee brother's son's pics. And as a tit for tat, my hubby send our son's pics to his family members almost every month without fail. The wheel of life you see... I keep telling him not to send our kid's pics, as there would be no difference left between them and us, but he won't listen!
Not surprising, my hubby's family members and relatives made me feel incomplete and always laughed at my situation, blame their culture. The worse was they, including a college going person, asking me every week if there's any "special news"! Sometimes friends tell me to ask the same question to that person on how it feels when everyone asks if there's any "special news". Then I tell them that if I also ask the same question, there would be no difference between them and me!
I even wrote a post on this problem in 2011: Stop asking us about kids, allow us to live our life...
Today, I have a lovely boy and my hubby keeps saying that I should also ask women when they are going to have babies! I say it's neither in my culture nor in my upbringing to ask people why they don't have babies. After all, it's their life, it's their choice, it's their body, it's their decision...
Moreover, my parents have always taught me not to talk about my riches in front of the poor, not to talk about my good health in front of the sick, not to talk about my power in front of the weak, not to talk about the joys of my life in front of the sad ones, not to talk about my freedom in front of the captivated, not to talk about my children in front of those who cannot have any and most importantly, not to talk about my parents in front of the orphans, for their wounds cannot withstand more pain.
Ah, leaving that aside, read this painful article on Akkarbakkar and empathise with this poor soul:
As I write this I am finishing watching Julie (a 1975 hit Bollywood movie). It's still playing in the background. Just to give you a gist of the movie — Julie, an Anglo-Indian girl is impregnated by her Hindu boyfriend. Very soon Julie will be an unwed mother in the movie!
I’ve watched several movies like this. Especially Bollywood. And have seen girls getting pregnant so easily like it's a cakewalk. Even a molestation attempt by a man she likes or dislikes can make her pregnant.! I will save the discussion on Bollywood’s illogical, misleading storylines for another day. But movies (now I mean across the globe) show teenage pregnancies and news show that India has a larger percentage of teenage pregnancies than even the UK, with 62 pregnant teen-girls for every 1000 women as against 24 in the UK. Now, isn’t that logical because these teen girls in India are actually married off at that age by the parents while that is not the case in the UK.
My thoughts as a thirty year old woman after watching Julie is only this — why am I not getting pregnant?
I am financially stable, willing to have a baby, and I'm legitimately married too for my lovely Indian society. Then why? It's embarrassing not being able to reproduce while living in a country where the population is multiplying like bacteria. It makes me question and regret so many things! What kind of an Indian woman am I? What has, however, contributed to my general knowledge and misery in the same breath is the Internet, where I've read all about the science of pregnancy. I know everything. I am even doing practical sessions. What more can I do?
It's been 5 years. Every month passing with red dots is now an ocean of frustration with the feeling of “what went wrong this time?”
My Gynaecologist thinks that she is tying all lose knots every month after the bleeding begins. I read — "the endometric thickness being best as it can be — 21 mm, rupturing ovaries, developing hopes, and the bloody damage it does after all the math". Then again, I browse the Internet.
Ideally a woman’s egg is best in her twenties and they fade away by the time she's 35.
This is literally written all over the Internet! GULP. Did you see? I am 30 already. Feels like the clock is ticking too fast, I will be 35 in no time!
Facebook is another place that rubs salt on my wounds. Every other person's profile picture is with a kid — some right at the hospital, some being held by the proud parents, the same people I played with way back in 1980s. Some old pictures have the new parents being held by me in the arms as they could barely walk then.
I was never the jealous kinds. At any point in life. But the desire to give birth to a child is taking me on a cruel ride. You know? But I have still not given up. Next week, I am away for a Hysterosalpingography. See how I remember such complicated names like a parrot? While I say I have little hope, I still want to keep trying.
I want to end this with a sigh — I just came back home to find my husband write, "success rates after hysterosalpingography" on his phone.
The insults varied from not inviting me to the functions like naming ceremony of babies, choroonu, 28th day ceremony etc. The more painful thing was women refusing to give their baby to my hands! The worst part was when a dirty old man had even tried to explain on how to get pregnant and make babies...
When my hubby's family used to mock at us by sending the pics of their divorced elder son's kid every month, we both used to get upset. My hubby never asked them to stop sending the pics, as he always felt that it would hurt his family members. He silently suffered whenever he saw his divorcee brother's son's pics. And as a tit for tat, my hubby send our son's pics to his family members almost every month without fail. The wheel of life you see... I keep telling him not to send our kid's pics, as there would be no difference left between them and us, but he won't listen!
Not surprising, my hubby's family members and relatives made me feel incomplete and always laughed at my situation, blame their culture. The worse was they, including a college going person, asking me every week if there's any "special news"! Sometimes friends tell me to ask the same question to that person on how it feels when everyone asks if there's any "special news". Then I tell them that if I also ask the same question, there would be no difference between them and me!
I even wrote a post on this problem in 2011: Stop asking us about kids, allow us to live our life...
Today, I have a lovely boy and my hubby keeps saying that I should also ask women when they are going to have babies! I say it's neither in my culture nor in my upbringing to ask people why they don't have babies. After all, it's their life, it's their choice, it's their body, it's their decision...
Moreover, my parents have always taught me not to talk about my riches in front of the poor, not to talk about my good health in front of the sick, not to talk about my power in front of the weak, not to talk about the joys of my life in front of the sad ones, not to talk about my freedom in front of the captivated, not to talk about my children in front of those who cannot have any and most importantly, not to talk about my parents in front of the orphans, for their wounds cannot withstand more pain.
Ah, leaving that aside, read this painful article on Akkarbakkar and empathise with this poor soul:
As I write this I am finishing watching Julie (a 1975 hit Bollywood movie). It's still playing in the background. Just to give you a gist of the movie — Julie, an Anglo-Indian girl is impregnated by her Hindu boyfriend. Very soon Julie will be an unwed mother in the movie!
I’ve watched several movies like this. Especially Bollywood. And have seen girls getting pregnant so easily like it's a cakewalk. Even a molestation attempt by a man she likes or dislikes can make her pregnant.! I will save the discussion on Bollywood’s illogical, misleading storylines for another day. But movies (now I mean across the globe) show teenage pregnancies and news show that India has a larger percentage of teenage pregnancies than even the UK, with 62 pregnant teen-girls for every 1000 women as against 24 in the UK. Now, isn’t that logical because these teen girls in India are actually married off at that age by the parents while that is not the case in the UK.
My thoughts as a thirty year old woman after watching Julie is only this — why am I not getting pregnant?
It's been 5 years. Every month passing with red dots is now an ocean of frustration with the feeling of “what went wrong this time?”
My Gynaecologist thinks that she is tying all lose knots every month after the bleeding begins. I read — "the endometric thickness being best as it can be — 21 mm, rupturing ovaries, developing hopes, and the bloody damage it does after all the math". Then again, I browse the Internet.
Ideally a woman’s egg is best in her twenties and they fade away by the time she's 35.
This is literally written all over the Internet! GULP. Did you see? I am 30 already. Feels like the clock is ticking too fast, I will be 35 in no time!
Facebook is another place that rubs salt on my wounds. Every other person's profile picture is with a kid — some right at the hospital, some being held by the proud parents, the same people I played with way back in 1980s. Some old pictures have the new parents being held by me in the arms as they could barely walk then.
I was never the jealous kinds. At any point in life. But the desire to give birth to a child is taking me on a cruel ride. You know? But I have still not given up. Next week, I am away for a Hysterosalpingography. See how I remember such complicated names like a parrot? While I say I have little hope, I still want to keep trying.
I want to end this with a sigh — I just came back home to find my husband write, "success rates after hysterosalpingography" on his phone.
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