Chachu's Column #35: Of Have-not & Have-been Parents and their doctors

The last column triggered an overwhelming response from the readers. Most of the responses were congratulatory notes, welcoming my stepping into parenthood. Few others greeted the column that appeared in their inboxes after a long gap.

All the responses could easily be categorized into the Have-nots and the Have-been.

The Have-nots, those enjoying the fruits of celibacy, had still quite some distance to tread. The writings could only give them a vicarious experience; however, they could not appreciate the real fun involved. However, one young (and wise) lady made an interesting point. She said, "… It was really touching, especially for those who haven't gone through this stage of life yet. I could visualize everything and was overwhelmed with emotions. You are right. Paternal bond takes time but maternal bond is there even before the world knows the baby. But the irony is that men forget the pains women take. You got to remember the pains she had to go through to fill your life…" I never bore any pain. And what my spouse bore was slowly ebbing out of my memory. Her comment was a timely reminder.

This also reminded me what I felt about my parents when I was very young. I thought they had done me no favour in bringing me to this world. It was their moral duty and obligation to take good care of me. After all, I didn't ask them to bring me in. My infuriated parents remained silent to such slanderous comments and hoped that time could bring in some sense and sensibility in their self-indulgent son.

Now, however, I wonder what I would feel when my baby grows up and behaves in a similar fashion - may be even two steps ahead. Immediately, I recall all the moments spent with my baby. The first few months were especially challenging. During this time, when the biological clock understood no night or day, any moment was good enough to seek attention. The eyes remained dreary and one had to sneak outside one's bedroom to savour few moments of rest. The mosquitoes demanded a baby net. But the one I brought consumed half the bed. And so the two adults had to consume the leftovers while the baby - the prince - slept in all luxury. Then the difficult choice had to be made of whether to leave the baby unprotected or to sacrifice some comfort. The father felt it was all too demanding. What about the poor mother who went through the pain and ignominy before, during and after the childbirth?

Some Have-nots are on the verge. Their time is not too far - a year or two at the maximum. The whole idea excites them a lot, but there is also that anxiety for the pain involved.

The Have-been also have to take their steps - little steps with their little ones. Every step, every year passed, providing new lessons. A two-year old father recalls, "…Nice-n-sweet reminiscences.... Enjoyed it reading even more so since today is my daughter's second birthday ... and your column brought back similar memories and joys I had when I saw my baby for the first time. I clearly remember, when for the first time the nurse held her out to me, she winked at me - the nicest, cutest and most loveable wink a lady had ever given me. The first days after her birth, filled with a lot of joy, new experiences and anxieties. Well a great experience…"

Those who have taken five steps with their only kid still find each day a new experience. Every visit to the mall is accompanied by a demand for new toys. It is not easy to refuse. Alibis are not easy to find by. The mother says that the money is in short supply an argument that the kid is not ready to buy. And the granny, who is there only for a while, is too willing to oblige. The not-so-young baby has his wished fulfil. The bribe has done the trick, as the baby is ready to fly back with the granny.

Many have taken steps twice. And one such father laments how his son plays havoc in the life of his son's nanny. The boy is not too difficult to handle. But he is no pushover either. He will always challenge. It is in the fitness of things that he must be given his due respect. And occasionally, plaster his broken leg after a football game or nurse a forehead wounded in the game of hide-and-seek.

Some people however have a different view of things. They are outsiders, yet they play an integral part in our lives. They are doctors who influence and facilitate our lives. And one such distinguished doctor is my cousin sister Puja. And let me have the fortune of having her have the last words, …

"As a paediatrician I have watched these myriad of emotions flash across parents faces so many times it's almost difficult to count...yet each time is different. I've been on the other side from you...knowing a little too much of what's going on. We get called as paediatricians to deliveries whenever there is anticipation for a problem with the delivery so that we can resuscitate the baby if needed. And every time the experience is at once the same and at once very different.

Generally we walk into the room of a family we have never met before. Everyone looks up wondering and questioning, but not saying anything because I think to some degree they're too afraid to ask why there are even more doctors in the room than before. We get a history from the Obstetrician and staff and set up the resuscitation station. All this to the background noise of the Obstetrician coaching the mother "Push! Push! Push! Keep going! A little longer!" We keep one eye on the mother, one eye on the progress of the delivery to see how much time we have, and one eye on the baby itself - is the umbilical cord around the neck? How big does it seem the baby is? Will she get stuck? Is the baby facing the right way? And through it all there is the 'Beep... Beep... Beep…' of the baby's foetal heart monitor tracing in the background. Our own heart rates seem inversely linked to that...the baby's heart rate goes down (a sign that the baby is struggling to get oxygen) and ours goes up proportionally. Even when our concentration seems fixated on the chart or the oxygen tank etc., a part of our mind is listening for that 'Beep... Beep... Beep…' because we know that if the beeps slow down and stay down, we may have a very sick baby.

When the baby's head finally emerges, even before she is born, our assessment has begun. Every little bit matters - the fluid the baby was bathing in, which way the baby's face was pointing, where the umbilical cord was - all of these will determine how much help the baby will need. And from the moment the baby's head is visible, a voice in our head is constantly screaming to the Obstetrician "give me the baby...come on give me the baby" because we know that when a baby is really sick 20 seconds spent while the cord is being cut is 20seconds that a baby is not breathing. And finally the baby screams for the first time...and the whole room breathes a collective sigh of relief because now everything will be fine. We congratulate the family...reassure them that they have a perfect baby and we leave the room. We know that we are unlikely to ever meet the family again but for that moment we've been part of their lives in a way that few get to experience.

But of course that is the perfect scenario...when the baby is fine and everyone is happy. Having seen enough deliveries where things don't go perfectly, I'm always so grateful for every delivery where things do. I'm so very glad that in the end everything was perfect for you and your little one! And I can't wait to hear about all the wonders to come …"

Chachu 28/07/2005
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