Transitioning into parenthood

I am excited to be embarking on this adventure at this stage of my life, being 36 and somewhat accomplished in terms of my selfhood and career. Representation pic

Even though I have participated in raising my siblings' children, all of whom are transforming into brilliant individuals, I find myself frequently ignorant when it comes to the basics of caring for a newborn. Being in a totally different context from where I come from is significantly responsible for this ignorance. For instance, I hadn't imagined that while buying a pram we would have to consider the mountainous nature of the landscape we inhabit, and therefore seek one that could glide uphill as well as on flatter city ground. Had my in-law's not offered to buy us a new pram, I would have gladly made do with either a second-hand one or none at all, given how daunting the prices are. I couldn't even imagine using a pram on Mumbai's uneven roads.

Beyond the pragmatic, a huge part of my difficulty has been at the level of the imagination. I am simply not able to visualise how dramatically my life will change in a matter of weeks, that I will no longer be singular, that there will be this person whose needs will have to take precedence over many of my own. Because I arrived at the decision, or rather, embraced the decision to be a mother only two years ago, it is genuinely frightening for me to think about how my time will no longer necessarily be mine, or how my attention and consciousness will be perpetually inhabited by thoughts of another. As I attempt to innovate strategies for coping with the inevitable loss of a degree of my solitude, I have found myself relying on the nuances of hospitality as a method for embracing the unique exhaustion that I am told awaits me. What could it mean for me to submit myself wholly to this vocation and not try to do anything other than allow my body to provide sustenance to our infant? What might it mean to surrender myself to every demand this calling doubtlessly involves?

Can having a more empowering attitude or perspective towards dwelling in mystery impact my experience of postpartum? For example, a male artist whose child is now three told me that for him the experience of fatherhood was completely overwhelming, leading him to be borderline depressive, simply because he felt excluded from the primacy of it. He said he was stuck doing the domestic chores because newborn children are more dependent on their mothers. Yet, in a small guide published by the local government here which we picked up during a visit to our midwife, I happened to read something that felt a lot more promising. It was a bit of advice aimed at male birthing partners, telling them that besides breastfeeding, they could actively participate in every aspect of their child's infancy. This genuinely felt like more empowering advice, and I have been internalising it so that I, too, as a mother, learn to entrust my partner with our child and allow him to care for us in whatever way comes spontaneously and naturally to him.

I am excited to be embarking on this adventure into parenthood at this stage of my life, being 36 and somewhat accomplished in terms of my selfhood and career, because I have done the work of learning to trust, better, the people around me. For so many years I lived with the anxiety of not feeling confident that the people who I loved and who loved me had my back. Stepping away from that fear and adopting a wider lens has helped me see how I was always being nurtured by my closest circle of friends and even acquaintances. Especially over the last nine months I have had the privilege of intimacies with friends I haven't met or seen in years who have gathered around me to give me encouraging advice and check up on me and it has made me miss my family less, or rather, helped me cope with the knowledge of their unfortunate absence during this moment of urgency.

Besides loved ones, I have been privileged to have access to free healthcare within an impressively functional system. I don't think I can even count the number of health professionals I have had to encounter over the course of my pregnancy, from my assigned midwife and gynaecologist to the various teams of doctor-midwives that have conducted the numerous ultrasounds I was recommended because I was considered in the moderate risk range. The gestational diabetes diagnosis necessitated a fresh set of professionals, from the diabetes specialist to the dietician. I was given a kit to ensure I monitored my sugar regularly. It has been somewhat overwhelming to have the state be so invested in my well-being, and to not be treated differently for actually using the free services to which I am entitled. I often wondered what it would be like for Indian mothers to have the kind of privileged treatment they deserve, for healthcare to not be a luxury but a basic right. I think my parenting strategy will always be rooted somewhere in this consciousness of being a third-world feminist who displaced herself within a first-world context. Not quite refugee, not quite in exile.

Deliberating on the life and times of Everywoman, Rosalyn D'Mello is a reputable art critic and the author of A Handbook For My Lover. She tweets @RosaParx
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