My First Mother’s Day

It’s 8 pm and it’s the first time I’ve sat down today. By the time I publish this blog it might be after midnight.

I have been planning my first mother’s day for the last week. I washed my hair and chose an outfit. I googled the Water Monkey Cafe and imagined having coffee and a chocolate muffin with the Bangalore rains in the background. Maybe even taking some Instagram worthy photos with my munchkin.

This morning I finished packing for our first trip with Kalindi. I spent a few hours going through Kalindi’s clothes so that she’s nice and cozy in Coorg. I’d contemplated swim diapers, then decided a chlorinated pool was too risky for a one and a half month old. I imagined two restful days with Kalindi and Animesh in the verdant Coorgi hills with its crisp, inviting weather.

Little did I know that my first mother’s day would be spent in vomit-stained clothes (albeit with clean hair).My daughter was unsettled, uncomfortable and throwing up every time I fed her. Her appetite was decreasing and she fed frenetically, only to regurgitate everything minutes after. I had been congratulating myself on her healthy weight gain, long and peaceful sleep and general happy demeanor. Maybe I jinxed it. 🧿

I gave a distress call to our paediatrician as our house help tried to calm down our inconsolable daughter. I also spent the better part of an hour on the phone with MakeMyTrip and Aurika trying to figure out if our non refundable booking could be amended. The folks at MakeMyTrip were more accommodating than I expected and I’m so grateful for that.

But as I got off the phone with them, I saw my messy living room as though for the first time. There were burp cloths of every size and color strewn haphazardly on the couch. The elegant mango wood table which had once held interesting coffee table books now had squeaky toys, some sensory books, the instruction manual for our new baby sling, the remote, a pair of headphones and a box of roasted makhanas. The diaper bag was on the floor.

By now my daughter had wet her langot once again and there was a flurry of activity as one of us distracted her from her crying, the other ran to get a fresh langot and a third cleaned her up. It took about half an hour to settle her down again, but my nervous system is still in fight or flight mode. My daughter has finally fallen into a deep slumber.

As I look at her I think of the luxurious holiday that my maternity leave was supposed to ne, of which only 4 months are now left (the last two months have faded into oblivion). I think of the Vedanta lessons I was supposed to transcribe at a leisurely pace. I think of the book I’m supposed to be working on.

I look at my daughter’s calm face and little body. And I think of how my plans are no longer only mine, but ‘ours’. I think about how much more interesting Coorg will be with her in tow. I think of how much more relevant Vedanta has become for me. I think of how I’m endlessly inspired to write more and how much I’ve been reading lately. I think of how my daughter has brought a whole community of mothers and fathers and children closer to my life.

And I think maybe this is what a Happy Mother’s Day is all about.