Image courtesy: FoxNews.com

What would be your reaction on coming across a headline like this:

Woman gives birth to twins at 70

Mine was the usual “WTF?” I clicked on the link and was amazed, astounded and finally, resigned when I read the full article. Why, you ask. Well, this has happened in apna India.

Now you can guess the rest of the story. No male heir. Couple desperate for someone to carry on their name. So keeps trying. Dad 77, mum 70.

But the prize for the best quote ever has to go to the proud dad: “t is a matter of great joy, that in my old age God has blessed me with two kids to support me in my old age.”

Need one say more?

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Blogosphere had never seen the likes of the big-ass virtual baby shower thrown in honour of us six (7? 8?) MTBs (mother-to-be) on April 25, 2008, by a fantastic group of bloggers who would be better suited to running giant corporations and small countries. If what happened that day wasn’t special enough, what ensued since was even better. The whole lot of us, the ‘Doula Gang’ as they called themselves and us MTBs, all bonded in a unique and special way to become the best of blog friends. We have all since met up - virtually every day and in real life, once or twice and have come back feeling much better about ourselves.

But what has made us all feel like part of this big, jolly group, more than anything is the babies - their impending arrival, the birth, the fight for the photos, the inevitable cooing over the little ones and of course, the labour room war stories. So far, we have reached mid-point.

Kodi’s mom gave birth to a bonny boy, “Plane Paapa” on June 4.

Lavs gave birth to her firstborn son on June 10th. His blog name is L’Buddha.

Maggie’s son Munch decided enough’s enough and decided to put in an appearance on June 26, 2008, a mere 5 days after he was due.

The first girl of the season put in an appearance the next day - Boo’s younger daughter, Antu joined the party six days before she was expected, delighting everyone.

All the babies and mums are now home, being pampered silly.

We now will enjoy a brief hiatus (touchwood) before the double date of RV’s first and Poppy’s second on August 17th. After that, it is Laks’ turn on September 2, followed by Yours Truly on September 15.

Since the big day, a few more expectant mums joined the merry gang and our group has now swelled to include two more MTBs and a Doula herself, who got a third bun in the often, blaming a faulty product. (Or so she claims!)

Here’s to us and our lovely babies.

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Couple of weekends back, hubby and I decided to go on the hospital’s birthing unit tour. We did this the last time around too and though it scared the pants off us, it was useful to get a mental picture of where we (er, I) might end up. Dropping P off at a friend’s place, on we went, to join a crowd of expectant parents waiting in the Maternity Unit’s lounge for the tour to begin. It was unnerving, to say the least, to be amongst a gazillion women in different stages of pregnancy. Brought it home to you, the whole deal and what lay in store.

Soon enough, a pretty midwife named Laura joined us and led us around. Unbeknown, the phrase “lambs to slaughter” entered my feeble brain and as I turned to catch the eye of one of the other mums-to-be, I could see a similar expression of panic writ large on her face. Somehow that calmed me and I followed Laura in a steadier frame of mind. First we visited the midwife-led unit. As I am keen to deliver here, I asked hubby to concentrate. The midwives run the show here, in the “low risk ward”, and there are only gas & air (Entonox - laughing gas) and pethidine injections available here for pain relief. Anything stronger, you’ll be taken to the higher risk zone.

We walked around the ward - the brightly lit lounge with a flat screen telly and lots of comfortable chairs and the odd birthing ball or two. Even here the walls had the protruding gas & air nozzles, which made all of us breathe a big sigh of relief though none could envision us sat here in this calm area on D-Day.

Next came the labour room - it was tiny, to say the least. We all peeked in as there wasn’t enough space for the whole lot of us to troop in. For the first time, I realised what it means to say “no space to swing a cat in”. Well, cat swinging aside, the room had a reclining heavy-duty bed, gas & air nozzle, monitoring equipment, bassinet, a telly and a spare armchair, for the birth partner to pass out in. That was it.

As we were standing outside, peering in, Laura chirpily asked us if we had any questions. Deciding to test SilentOne’s claim that she was home six hours after giving birth, I asked L if that was so. L went “no no…”, and before I could finish thinking “gotcha, SilentO…”, the midwife continued, “… you could leave in four hours if you want. As long as there are no complications with you or the baby and you are happy, you could just go after four hours.” It was time for me to test another of famous english phrases - slack jawed. ‘Cos that is exactly how I felt. Go home a mere four hours after giving birth*?! Wow!

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Next we went down the stairs to the regular labour ward. All the wards follow the same layout, we were told. Good thing too as by the time we had finished wandering around the place, hubby was well and truly lost. As we were following L, he whispered, “maybe we should leave a breadcrumb trail or something.” Knowing his penchant for going around in circles (especially around the roundabouts), I sincerely wish he was joking!

The high risk ward was pretty much the same - the labour rooms had more high tech gizmos to monitor mum and baby and other nameless machines. As the rooms were larger, we could all troop in to one. As we all formed a ring around a bed, every face registered mild to severe panic. I am sure everyone’s thought bubble read the same as mine: “next time we are here, we’ll be on the bed - screaming!” Only Hubby seemed unconcerned and quite chilled out. Well why wouldn’t he be?

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Once we got home, I went online to update my friends on what I had been upto that morning. When I mentioned the back-home-in-4 deal to my friends, I got a whole wide spectrum of feedback. Boo, Mags, (I stand corrected!) however, took the cake for the best quip:

“Imagine, DG, you could drop P at school, go to the hospital, give birth and be back at the school gates by home time!” Jokers, every single one of them.

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Gorgeous berries

“Easy does it!”

Mission accomplished!

After a hard day’s work, some down time

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But all of that disappeared the minute they walked in to our house and the first “hello” was spoken. I would love to say this was due to our stellar conversational skills. But it was chiefly due to hubby overenthusiastically bellowing a greeting to Little N and touching her. That was it! She let out an almighty roar and refused to be placated. Apparently, she is wary of strange men (and rightly so, young lady!) and suitably chastised, hubby retreated to a corner of the room far away from her. 

P, who was away at a friend’s budday party, joined us mid-way during lunch and Little N was smitten. She refused to take her eyes off him, followed him around the house and tried to copy him. She was so taken up with him that even hubby’s star rose in her eyes and he was finally deemed fit to make her acquaintance. The sweetest moment of the day came when both children were missing - and SilentOne found her daughter sat quietly next to P in his room, with him teaching her something or the other. 

As the day was marvelously sunny , we decided to indulge in our favourite summer time activity: strawberry-picking. We went to a farm nearby, picked some yummy strawberries for our tea (and forgot to eat them later on!) and then proceeded to this massive country park near our house. With a deer enclosure, a duck pond and fabulous grounds, it is a very special place, one we visit as often as possible to take advantage of the finicky British weather. 

Little N was totally taken up with the deer and with some children nearby feeding the deer some vegetables, there was some quality entertainment coming our way. With the deers jostling with one another for the carrots and celery sticks, the children all had a lovely time. P’s extremely ticklish and the deer taking a small piece of carrot from his hands sent him into paroxysms of laughter and Little N looked on in wonder. We had to literally drag her away from the deer. 

Then it was off to feed the ducks. There must have been about 25 - 30 ducks vying for the bread that was being chucked at them and a rowdy swan in the middle kept trying to intimidate the smaller birds into giving up their tasty morsels for him. Shouting in glee, P and Little N stayed by the banks, throwing bread to the birds and generally enjoying themselves. It was time to leave all too soon and they had to be taken back to the car, kicking and screaming.

I was quite keen to see P’s reaction to Little N. Ever since he knew that he was going to be a big brother, he has finally started noticing younger children. Babies that didn’t even merit a glance from him before were now given the once over. The first time he actually spent more than a minute in a baby’s company was when we visited Premalatha and co - Avni has the singular honour of being the first baby to capture his attention! With Little N in the year-and-half zone, I was wondering how he would react to her. 

So after they left, I asked him what he thought of her. His words left me stunned!

P: “She scared me, mummy!”

Me: “Scared? Why??”

P: “Should I marry her when we grow up?”

Me: “What? No! Wherever did you get that idea?”

P: …..

Here I was, thinking my son was looking at prospective big brother duties while all the time, he was thinking of something along much different lines!! Only my son can ever think his old mum will be match fixing for him at such a tender age! He was quite relieved when I told him my intentions were purer than the driven snow. 

P: “That’s good. ‘Cos I don’t want to get married. I am going to live with you and daddy for ever.”

Me: “Okay then. What if you have a baby sister? Will we get her married?”

P: “yeah yeah we will. We’ll get her married off to a boy. Girls want to kiss and get married anyway.”

Me: “!!!!”

Good times, people. 

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“do you know what alcohol is?”

Me: “errr” [where is this leading?]

P: [confidently] “Boobs!”

Me: *koff koff* WHAT?

Well it took me a few minutes to get to the bottom of this revelation. Apparently, whilst I was slaving over dinner the previous evening, father and son were watching a “Did you know?” kind of program on gin. During the course of that, my son misheard the voiceover guy’s, you guessed it, booze as boobs, his current hot word!

Needless to say, his eejit parents laughed themselves silly over it after he was fast asleep!

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Me: Eh? No clue. Why not?

P: ‘Cos he didn’t have any guts. Geddit?

What can I say? Chip off the old block!!

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In a totally different vein, read about this Canadian supermum, who raced all over town to make sure the drunk driver didn’t do anybody harm. Did I mention she was 9 months pregnant at the time? 

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Gee! I feel like a school kid. What is it about these things that makes a person feel so chuffed? I don’t know but I am liking the feeling. So much so, I am going to think deeply about who to pass it on to. Hmm, dunno who hasn’t got it yet but going by personal reasons, I’d like to pass it on to quite a few - starting with Tharini, for throwing me that incredible baby shower (well you thot of it!), my fellow MTBs - Poppy, Kodi’s Mom, Boo, Mags, Lavs and Nutty, and my three personal doulas - MM, SilentOne and CeeKay. And to Sue, for The Name!

This award here is for services past, present and future! Feel special, people! 

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