By Muthamma Tandy
They say, if I have a dark line between my navel and my pubic bone, I’m going to have a girl; if the line is dark as well as hairy, I’m going to have a boy; if my nipples get really dark, it’s going to be a boy; If I burp a lot, my baby is going to be hairy. My hair shines and my skin glows, or so I’m told- the jury is still out on whether this means that I’m going to have a girl or boy.
None of this matters. I just can’t wait to meet you. Whoever you are. Whatever you are.
I wish I had started this sooner. This keeping-notes-of-how-it-feels; how I feel. But I’m so good at putting things off and waiting. Waiting for what? I don’t know.
I’m 27.5 weeks. You’re supposed to be the size of a cauliflower. You have also opened and closed your eyes for the first time. If your daddy and I were to shine a bright light on my bump, I could feel you move away from the glare. I wanted to try this. But your daddy vetoed the idea. I don’t mind, really. I have the rest of my life to tease you and play with you.
I wrote most of this in my little notepad when I was 25 weeks and you were the size of an eggplant. I love eggplant. I love it better when I call it Aubergine. In India we call it Brinjal.
I spent the first 3 months carrying you, loving you and hoping that you’d be a girl. I had my first scan at the end of 3 months to see you and check that all was tickety boo in your home. The sonographer put this cold gel on my belly and touched a joystick type of thing on the gel and suddenly, on the little screen, there you were. All 64mm of you. We were so happy to see you that we started laughing. I felt a little guilty about laughing. I’ve heard that most, if not all, women cry when they first see their babies in a scan. But I couldn’t help myself. I did think about forcing a few tears but I couldn’t manage any. You were sleeping on your belly and you looked like you were on your knees praying. I’m sorry but we had to wake you up to see you from all sides. And oh boy did you wake up. You started kicking your legs and arms around. At one point, you arched your back, stretched your arms and legs and yawned. I did cry, after all.