The 3rd of January 2008 is, and will forever be the longest day of my life.
The day lasted some 30 hours, and everytime I look back at it, I end up thinking of the previous evening instead.
The 2nd of January 2008, began like any other day. Cold, grey and very wintery. It was a regular working day and I was busy at work when I got a call from home.
"Her blood pressure is up, beta and the doctor has asked us to take her to the hospital for a checkup. We have come home to collec some supplies and will then go to the hospital. I'll keep you posted about any developments."
"What the fuck!" I thought dreading my inability to be with them at that hour. To be the one managing things rather than mom and dad. I am so much cooler and calmer in my estimation.
Plus she will never really tell them what she needs.
For her I should be there.
"Fuck fuck fuck"
Couple of hours pass.
Another call from home, "Listen they have admitted her. They say that he BP is high so they will keep her under observation for 24 hours, if her BP drops then they will discharge her in the morning. What's your scene? Are you really tied up?"
"Not really, I'll finish up early and try and be there by 8-ish, then you guys leave and I will bring her home in the morning." I said, relieved.
I reached the hospital around 8 and went straight to her room, 304 I think it was. Both my moms were there, I sent them home telling them to send the car in the morning at about 9.
The pains started a little while after dinner. They were intense and came after regular intervals.
"I think its time", she said.
"But didnt the doctors say that we still had about 20 days"
"Yeah but they cant be certain, no one can. There is no way to know for sure. But I know, its time. It exactly how its supposed to be."
"We should go to the doc".
I returned to the room alone. The doctors kept her back in the exam room to keep an eye on her, even though they reiterated that all signs were normal and that we had another 15-20 days.
But to save us the trouble of limping to the exam room after every half an hour or so they decided to keep her in the exam room itself.
In a matter of hours I had been transported from my office to a hospital room.
Alone, confused and completely out of my element, I was at my wits end. Not knowing what else to do, Itried to sleep but it kept evading me like a sweet childhood memory.
I was in a state of semi-drowsiness when the nurse came and told me that it was time.
I looked at the clock, it was almost 4 am, no time for me to wake up anyone at home. I decided to let them sleep for another two hours or so.
As the clock struck 6 I called up my mother and told her to collect all the stuff and come to the hospital.
They reached by about 8.
All this while I was alone in the hospital hoping everything was alright.
I went to meet her too, sometime in the morning, not sure now of the time, but she was in tremendous pain and wouldnt even open her eyes to look at me.
She only said that if the doctors didnt perform an operation then she will not make it.
She was sure of it. Nothing the doctors said changed it.
The doctors however, are part of a cruel breed. No amount of tears or screams affects them.
They are like mathematicians, they simply put the right figure for each variable and solve the equation as thy go along.
The doctors assured me and sent me back to the room.
They were not going to go for the operation, and they turned down my request to lie about it to her too.
Help arrived soon after.
And like mothers always do, they immediately took over. Each one doing her bit to ease the situation and help out in their own way.
That part of the day is a blur- blurry images of me pacing down the corridor, of her mom weeping, of my mom catching hold of whichever nurse she could find to get some information out of her which she would then pass onto me.
It was she who broke the news to me.
At about 9.40 in the morning of the 3rd of january 2008 my son came into this world.
A healthy boy of 5-and-some pounds, and yes she had seen him, and yes she was fine, and yes she was sure he was mine.