2000
October 28th: I ask Maanav why nobody told me about this before. I tell him I don’t think it’s a good idea. I don’t remember his response. I’ve shut up about it now. It’s done and I have to accept it.
October 29th: My mother tells me my dad had problems with his previous business partners. When they decided to go their separate ways, as per his contract, Dad wasn’t allowed to set up the same type of business for a certain number of years.
Papa (my father-in-law), a savvy businessman, saw an opportunity and stepped in. It makes sense now. He wants to help my Dad.
It is, of course, my father’s business, they’ve said. It wouldn’t be possible without his decades of knowledge and expertise. On paper though, everything belongs to Maanav.
My mother thought I knew about this all along. She’s surprised Maanav didn’t tell me about it. Maybe Papa told Maanav not to say anything for a while as I had Jai and my health to deal with.
2001
January 1st: Jai, Maanav and I bring in the new year by joining my mother at her temple. Jai sleeps peacefully in his rocker chair while we sing and chant the Lord’s names. I think I like this kind of celebration more than partying on New Year’s Eve.
January 9th: My pregnancy is going smoothly. I’m better prepared this time and well-nourished. I’m back at college after the Christmas holidays, and I’m still working at the nursing home.
I don’t see Maanav much as he’s always busy at the factory with my dad. He doesn’t come home in time for Jai’s dinner, bath and bedtime like he used to. I’m tired by the evening. It’s much harder to do it by myself. I guess my dad’s business ethic is rubbing off on Maanav already: all work and no family time 🙁
Thankfully, my mother-in-law is here. We make dinner, wash the dishes and clean the kitchen together, then I start on Jai’s evening routine.
Maanav travels abroad sometimes for business. He doesn’t take me with him as he used to though.
January 12th: My dad’s out drinking somewhere, so I had a window to go and pick her up. Mum says she feels ashamed staying over at her daughter’s marital home, but I tell her it’s okay and we have no choice. Maybe the stress of the new business is getting to Dad, and he’s slipped up again. Why does he always take it out on her, though? I feel guilty that I don’t live there anymore. At least when I did, I was sometimes the target and could divert him from her.
I call the police and inform them of the situation. I’ve called them on him before when I lived with my parents. He was given a warning, and he’s on their domestic violence register. He’s never forgiven me for that. His response to that call was, “You’re a shame to the family.” I’m getting used to this phrase now.
I don’t know what’s going on with my brother. He doesn’t seem to be around much. And when he is, he seems distracted.
February 6th: Oh God, I’ve slipped down the stairs! I slid a few steps and landed hard on my back. I’m four months pregnant. It’s just Jai and me at home alone. I’m on one of the connecting staircases on the first floor.
My immediate thought goes to the baby. I hope it’s alright! I couldn’t handle another loss in such a short timeframe.
I stay put, not daring to move in case it causes harm to the baby. I try to figure out what to do.
Jai looks at me and disappears down the rest of the stairs to the ground floor. Where is he going? There’s nobody else home. What if he gets hurt by a door or tries to go outside? I panic and call him back.
What I did not know until now is that my two-and-a-half-year-old is a superstar! He returns in less than a minute with a plastic cup of pretend water from his play kitchen, urging me to drink some so I’ll feel better. He smiles at me and tries to comfort me with a baby ‘there there’ gesture. Oh my Lord, I love this child so much.
I don’t know if this will work, but I put my fist to my ear and tell Jai, I need a telephone. Thankfully, we have a few cordless house phones around the place. He toddles off again. I pray he has a clue what I’m talking about.
Lo and behold, he’s back! Climbing up the stairs on all fours, clutching a clunky phone in his tiny hand. He hands it to me, smiling all the while. My little saviour!
I’m in A&E. The doctor says I’ve fractured my coccyx. The baby is fine. The rest of my spine is fine. So, it’s just a bit of a pain in the bum, but who hasn’t dealt with one of those? 🙂
April 11th: It’s a warm Sunday in spring. The baby is due in less than three months. We’re off to lunch at the club where our gym and pool are. We take Jai to swim there sometimes, and they have a great little bistro-café that kids love.
I’m driving my new Land Rover Freelander. It’s an early twenty-first birthday present from the family. They wanted me to have a bigger car so I could easily fit two car seats and drive the kids around comfortably.
Jai is in his car seat in the back. Maanav’s next to me. He knows I love driving and always obliges me.
As the sun is out, just before we pull out of the private road, I ask Maanav if he can hand me my sunglasses. They’re in the case in the glove box in front of him. Or at least, I try to ask him that, but the words come out sounding different. He looks at me, amused, thinking I’m making a joke and talking gibberish with him. I laugh, but I’m confused.
I try again. I know what I want to say, but I can’t get the words out properly.
I feel a bit strange. I can’t explain it.
I’m still driving.
All of a sudden, my left arm begins to tingle. I start to lose sensation in my fingertips. Then, I feel the same tingle on my face. And now, part of my lips are numb.
I’ve already driven out of the gates and onto the road. I have one baby in the back of my car and one in my belly. I know I have to protect them and stop the car, but I’m confused.
We’re on a blind bend, and there’s nowhere to park safely. I press the brake and pull the car right up onto the kerb.
I look down at the AT gear stick. Letters are staring back at me. P R N D. The car is in D. I know I need to do something, but I’m not sure what. Oh my god, what do I do? I push the gear to P. Maybe this is it. I’m not sure. I stare at it.
Then there’s the brake. I dare not take my foot off in case I’ve done it wrong. I look at the gear stick again and back at my foot. I go back and forth again and again. It just doesn’t feel right.
Maanav is already at my door. He opens it and tells me to switch seats with him. He seems to think I’ve done it right, so I cautiously take my foot off the brake.
The car has stopped. We are fine. We are safe. Oh, thank God!
I climb into the passenger seat. Why does my face feel like I’ve just been to the dentist? I open the sun visor and look in the mirror. I expect to see my lips droop as they would after a shot of anaesthetic, but they look fine. They’re still numb and tingling, though. Wait, now my left arm feels funny too. I try to shake it out. Maybe I’ve irritated a nerve or something.
Maanav is on the phone with Mother Esther. She says I need to see the doctor.
I turn to Jai. He’s looking back at me, trying to understand what’s going on.
I don’t want him to be alarmed, so I try to talk to him calmly and sing some nursery rhymes. I try Baa Baa Black Sheep. It’s one I’ve sung hundreds of times in my life, and yet, for the life of me, right now, I can’t remember the words.
Jai sings, “Yes, Sir. Yes, Sir, three bags full,” and giggles. He thinks it’s funny that I’m saying the wrong words. He thinks Mummy is being a silly billy on purpose.
I try singing the alphabet; Jai is way ahead of me again, “L M N O P Q…”
It doesn’t sound right to me. I try to sing it. What on Earth? Can’t I remember the alphabet?
Maanav has called NHS Direct, and we’re waiting for a call-back from the doctor.
The numbness and tingling are subsiding. It must have been a nerve. It’s better now I’ve shaken it out.
It’s almost Jai’s lunchtime, he’ll be hungry soon, so I tell Maanav I’m feeling better, and we should carry on to lunch and feed Jai while waiting for the doctor to call back.
The restaurant is lively and loud with young children and families. I’m standing at the counter now with the menu in my hand. I look down at it and back at the server. I know what I want to order, but just like before, I can’t get the words out.
I feel confused again. I try again. No luck.
I can sense the impatience in the server’s demeanour. There is a queue of hungry kids and parents behind me. I feel like the world is caving in around me. Everyone’s voices sound louder, my heart beats louder too, and my palms are sweaty.
I quickly point at some things on the children’s menu.
“Pizza, chips and a veggie burger, yes?” the server asks with some relief on her face.
I nod at her.
Thankfully, Maanav waves at me from the table where he and Jai are sitting. It’s the NHS helpline, and they’re asking for my GP’s name and address. I head back to the table. No prizes for guessing, I can’t remember my doctor’s name.
I make sure Jai has eaten well; we drop him off at home and head to the hospital, where they put me through some tests, including scanning my carotid arteries.
I’ve had a Transient Ischaemic Attack (TIA), they tell me, also called a mini-stroke. It’s likely to be caused by the change in the constitution of my blood during the pregnancy. It’s not entirely uncommon to happen towards the end of a pregnancy or in the few months after giving birth.
They give me a blood thinner and keep me in for the rest of the day for observation.
It’s evening. Luckily, I seem to be fine now. I can recall all the things I couldn’t before. I’m happiest to remember Baa Baa Black Sheep and the alphabet. And Jai is too 🙂
(Originally published on os.me on January 20, 2023)