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A Trial of Patience

Like any other mother, the day my son was born remains ingrained in my head. Every sacrifice, every change in diet and lifestyle during those nine months served the sole purpose of ensuring I could bring that bundle of joy into the world of sunshine.

It was a trial of patience but was practiced through the virtue of love. With a baby shower that was attended by friends, neighbours, and family, the expectations around the birth of my first child would keep me on my toes from sunrise to sunset and would continue in my dreams for the remainder of my time.

Perhaps the funnier aspects of my pregnancy were the hunger pangs and cravings. Gosh, I used to crave something sweet, only to be followed by a desire for something sour… and then the cycle would continue. I had to be conscious as well, for I had to eat for both me and my baby. The beginning of a symbiotic relationship in a mother’s womb is a beautiful thought that brings a tear to my eye. Ah, I was not a mother yet at the time nor did I know that it was going to be a boy.

When my water broke, my husband was not at home– he was at work. The pain nearly brought me to my knees. It was the 18th of October around 4:30 in the evening. The due date wasn’t for another couple of weeks but I guess my baby was as eager to see me as I was to see him. Fortunately, we had planned ahead and had discussed the course of action for situations like these. We had hired a caregiver and she helped me get into her car as she drove me to John Hopkins hospital. She called Raja and passed me the phone. I told him, “It’s finally happening!” All I heard was a squeal of joy and, “I will be there at the hospital, honey. ”

At the hospital, I had to undergo a C-section due to the premature breaking of the water. At the time I was terrified, but I knew I was bringing a little being into this world and that was worth all the pain that I had to endure.

But as fate would have it, no road is ever that smooth and due to an infection during the surgery, I came down with measles, mumps, and chickenpox. A triple threat that pushed me to the edge of death’s door. After hours upon hours of intensive care, I finally survived. Now that I reminisce on those traumatic hours, I realize one thing my son had held on to me for 9 months, and the chance to see him with my own eyes in my hands was the ray of hope that kept me alive. As I said, the purest symbiotic relationship is built on nothing but love. When I finally recovered and opened my eyes, I could see a little pink munchkin wrapped in a blue blanket next to me. When Raja picked him up, he could barely open his eyes but let out the loudest cry from his lips. That cry made me tear up and thus continuing the symbiotic relationship. As he carried him to the window to show him the moon, I was filled with euphoria and pride. Finally, I was a mother.

When and where will the 8 Billionth person be born?