PS Writings

28 December,2017 – the day I became a mother.

After one elective abortion, one missed miscarriage, immense pain and tolerating my shitty, unempathetic, terrible gynae, I gave birth to a beautiful girl by C-Section. Sparkling eyes, long silky hair, super hungry from the womb and kitty cry. Oh my god! She looked just like an angel showering all the blessings on me with her little hands. While not everyone was completely happy with her arrival, I was on cloud on.

So, why weren’t they happy? Here’s a little explanation:

In the country where I live, society is still deeply rooted in patriarchy. Boys are given more preference over girls as it is believed they carry forward family’s legacy and name, and provide financial support to parents in old age. Whereas boys are seen as investment, girls are seen as burden and liability to the family. So, when I gave birth to a baby girl, the reaction I received from others wasn’t shocking to me. There were moments of grief at times and I could do nothing but let the days pass in silence.

It is extremely heartbreaking that after all the pain and struggle I went through (which I will share later in this post), there was no one to genuinely pat me on the back and say, “After everything you’ve endured so far, I am really proud of you. You truly deserve to be happy now.” Instead, all I heard was irrelevant comments about the baby’s gender. I won’t say that my husband’s family was cruel or intended to torture me, but their unintentional or intentional remarks felt completely out of place in such a delicate moment.

As for my baby girl, she received all the love and care from them from the very beginning.  She is still a star, the apple of everyone’s eye, adored by all. It’s just that, at the time, their expectations were different, and they couldn’t help but dwell on ‘What if God had given us a boy” scenario.

And at a time when I genuinely needed moral support, I had none. My parents had abandoned me – again – over a small tiff about a year ago. They never called, so even I decided not to inform them about their granddaughter. It made no sense. When they had no love, no kindness, no empathy for their own daughter, let alone their daughter’s daughter. This is what they do always. They hurt, say harsh things and then simply boycott me as and whenever they please.

People say parents are the visible form of God on Earth. If that is true, then I guess I have no choice but to just expend the remaining years of my life like some insignificant speck drifting through the universe, waiting to be swallowed by some black hole one day. After all, I’ve been abandoned by God himself. What more can I say? I honestly have no idea. Everything can change, I suppose, but my family trauma is permanent. Somehow, it finds its way into every one of my reflection. I can’t help it.

Anyway, coming back to the point, despite of all the laws in place to prohibit gender determination and save girl child (because of rising sex-selective abortions), loopholes remain and people can still find ways to determine baby’s gender before birth so they could decide whether they want to continue the pregnancy or not.

As for me, I could never even think of that option, not even when I conceived fourth time and gave birth to another baby girl. How could I, when I was already so ashamed of my past- a decision I deeply regret and still struggle to forgive myself for.

This goes back to year 2015 – the first time I got pregnant. It was unplanned.

We had just begun our married life – only 8 months in. There was absolutely no support from either side of our families, as our marriage had gone against their will. We were living in another city in a small room, and entirely on our own for survival.

When I tested positive on the pregnancy test, it came as a shock to both of us. We were unprepared, and the situation was not in our favor at all back then. I was the sole breadwinner because my husband had lost his job a few months earlier. I didn’t earn much, and I had no financial backup from either of our families to fall back on in case of any emergency.

We were puzzled and went into a state where we could not think of what’s right or wrong. Whatever I was earning was sufficient to support both of us, but we were not sure if that would be enough to raise a child.

Looking back now, I wonder if I was the earner, I should have taken more responsibility of that decision. It was me who wasn’t strong enough. I should have taken the stand. But then there were so many fears. Would I be able to work during pregnancy? What if something went wrong? Who would help us? What if we failed as parents? Our survival was at stake, at least we thought so. The fear – it consumed us.

And then the gynae we went to – instead of support, she counseled us to abort. I still remember her words,

“It’s just a crumbled piece of bread right now. Don’t get attached. Abort it and focus on your career first.”

Here is another bitter life lesson: Doctors aren’t always there to protect and heal; some can really cloud your brain at times and push you toward decisions that don’t align with your heart and morals.   

And so, with tearful eyes and heavy heart, we made the decision to abort. I can still feel the weight of what I lost back then. It was definitely not just a crumbled piece of bread; it was a beautiful soul growing inside me. I was meant to be a safe haven for that life, but instead, I turned away.

To put a disclaimer here, some people might feel this isn’t something to feel very depressed about, and see it simply as a personal choice. Some of you may have made a similar decision to mine based on the circumstances, and that’s ok. While I understand that everybody is entitled to their own opinions and beliefs, I am just sharing my side of the story. We all see things through different lenses, don’t we? Everyone has their own perspective, and this is mine.

Besides, our thoughts and beliefs are products of our life experiences. The decisions that feel right in the moment are sometimes not right. You realize this in the later years of life as you grow mature and taste the world more.

And if that decision had truly been right for us, if our circumstances are to be blamed, then why did Karma hit us back so badly the second time we tried to conceive?

To continue reading, please proceed to Part 2.