35 – This Baby’s Gonna Be Born at Home!

Dear OS.ME family,

I know from your messages that some of you are eager to get to the parts of the story about discovering Swami ji and coming to the ashram. I thought about breaking the story up and putting in some chapters of what happened before and after the first meeting with Swami ji, which I wrote about in the Prologue of this series, but I felt I wanted first to pour out all of the past and ultimately heal from it.

Writing this series is no less than a Sadhana for me, and every episode released releases something in me too.

It’s also important to me that it’s here in case Jai and Veer ever read it. I want them to know the start of their story and how much they are loved. 

I am grateful for your kindness and patience and for coming along on this journey. May Divine Grace keep us all safe and protected. 

With His Grace, 

Sushree Diya

❤️

Please note: This is Ep.35

Please go here for Ep.34

Or here to begin at Episode 1

(As everything I write is true, names have been changed to protect identities.) 

35

This Baby’s Gonna be Born at Home!

2001

June 8th: I’m in Ealing car park. I don’t know why I end up here, but I’m here. At least my car isn’t conspicuous in this sea of hundreds of others. I pull the lever and recline the driver’s seat so nobody can see me. I’m eight months pregnant, I feel vulnerable, and pregnancy hormones don’t help. I lay on my side, bury my head in the seatback and cry, calling out in my heart for someone to help me. I have no one to talk to. I don’t want to worry my mother and I’m not close to any of my friends anymore. Maanav made sure of that early on. Maybe I’m calling out to God. I don’t know. 

Everything was finally going well. Why this now? He didn’t hit me, but his tone and the shove in my shoulder were full of spite. What if this is just the beginning? I think about my mum and dad. Do all marriages end up like this? Why do spouses stay together if they don’t respect each other? Maybe if Mum had put her foot down at the very start and didn’t accept Dad’s behaviour, it never would have escalated to the extent that it did. Whether they’d still be together, I don’t know, but perhaps my brother and I wouldn’t be so broken.

My phone rings again and again. Finally, I answer. Maanav is apologetic and worried about me. I know I have to go home at some point, for the baby’s sake. I need to calm down, I need to eat, and I need to rest.

I’m home. Something has changed today, though. The trust I had in him isn’t as strong as it was before.

June 9th: Feeling this way after a long time reminds me how severe my post-natal depression was. I book an appointment with the local mental health team. I tell Maanav that I’m going because I need support, and I want to ensure I don’t fall into the post-natal pit I did last time after giving birth.

He doesn’t offer to come with me. Nor does anyone at home. I’m starting to feel more and more alone.

Maanav works long hours at the factory; I hardly see him anyway. It’s the new business he’s set up with my dad. Before, he used to be home in time for dinner and Jai’s evening bath and bedtime, but now, Jai’s already in bed by the time Maanav comes home. I beg him to leave work just half an hour early to see his son and help me with the evening routine, but he says it’s impossible. He takes some business trips to Europe too.

We haven’t been intimate since I found out I was pregnant for the second time. Because of the polycystic ovaries, endometriosis and all the gynae surgery I had, it’s still too painful for me.

I love his sisters, but one is at school all day, and the other is away at University. I don’t have much of a relationship with his mother. We haven’t become close. It’s a big house and we don’t see much of each other during the day. I miss my mother. I miss my school friends. Loneliness creeps in deeper and deeper. My only solace is my beautiful Jai and the thought of the baby to come…

July 4th: It’s a balmy July summer day. The baby is five days overdue and I’m as exhausted as I am round. It’s as if the little one is so comfortable in there, he doesn’t want to come out. The midwife said that if he’s not out in five more days, I’ll have to go to the hospital to be medically induced. Gosh, I’d rather not wait that long. I heard somewhere that if one drinks a spoonful of castor oil, it can help the contractions to start.

Nobody is at home. I go down to the kitchen, find the bottle of castor oil and whip out a tablespoon from the drawer. What’s a teaspoonful going to do? I pour the thick, pungent liquid into the spoon, pinch my nose and down it like I’m pregaming before a party. Eugh! It’s disgusting. The taste of the oil lingers in my mouth and I retch. What’s one spoonful going to do though? I take one more for good measure and climb the three flights of stairs back to my bedroom to take a nap to while away the hot mid-afternoon hours.

I think I hear the front door downstairs. It must be my mother-in-law returning from running some errands. I stir a little and go back to sleep.

I’m awoken by some gurgling in my stomach and an ache that tells me I need the loo. I’m groggy from my nap. I go to the bathroom and come back and lie down.

It happens again.

And again.

Oh dear, I think I took too much castor oil. It’s been going on for about half an hour. The pains keep coming but I don’t need the toilet anymore. I time them. Less than one minute apart. Oh, Holy Moly! They’re contractions. It’s time! I telephone Maanav at the factory and tell him the baby is coming.

I try and make my way down the stairs. It’s three flights and I have to stop every few seconds, gripping the handrail and doubling over to bear the contractions that are coming hard and fast now. When I reach the bottom, I feel like I need the bathroom again. I go into the one downstairs but I definitely don’t need the loo. The baby’s head is already crowning!

Thankfully my mother-in-law is there. She grabs my favourite Lion King duvet from the TV room and places it on the entrance hall floor so I have somewhere to lie down. She dials 999 for an ambulance.

I’m breathing as best as I can. The midwife says she is on her way. My mother-in-law calls my husband too. He hasn’t even left work yet. She tells him there isn’t much time left. The baby’s head is visible.

The paramedics are here. They take one look at me and tell me I’m not going anywhere; there’s no time to make it to the hospital and no time for pain relief.

This baby’s gonna be born at home!

To be Continued…