Nipped In The Bud

All these days, I have been in the best place in the universe - your womb, Mom. It's cosy, warm, and by all means the most comfortable place to be. I have been listening to the plans that you and Dad have for me, from day 1 of my birth to an infinite future, as you both discuss dreamily and sometimes argue, with him ultimately conceding to you. I have also listened to the plans of my grandparents from both sides, making their own suggestions and differing with each other, but agreeing on one thing - that though they may pamper me, they will certainly not let me become a spoiled brat. It was fun listening to all of you during the name selection process, and you almost brought down the roof to ensure your selection was finalized. It is an unwritten acceptance in the house that you have the final word on anything concerning me. I am eagerly waiting to come out of your womb, however comfortable it may be, to see all of you in person and experience the outside world.

I'm sorry if I am hurting you, but why are you in so much pain? Okay, they are taking us somewhere. Wait, it is the same hospital where we would often visit the kind doctor. We are taken on a stretcher to a room, and everyone around is calling it the operation theatre. Mom, why are you shouting and crying so much? I am scared, and I don't mind staying inside if I am causing you so much pain in the process of coming into your world. Amidst all the chaos around me, I am excited to meet all of you.

Wait, I am able to hear voices around me. The doctor says she needs to operate due to some complications and you were not responding. Oh, suddenly there is so much light over me, and I am in a different place. Maybe this is the world into which you brought me. I am unable to breathe; something is happening to me. My eyes are closing, and I cannot hear, and the voices around me are getting fainter and fainter...

I open my eyes again, and what do I see?! You have just opened your eyes, and there is a baby by your side. You are shaking the baby, blabbering, and crying inconsolably, as if a part of your body was severed. My grandmothers and Dad, who were waiting outside for news of my arrival, rush to your side and try to console you. Words are failing them as they themselves are taken over by grief. Amidst all this chaos, I feel an invisible hand pulling me away from you. I am very scared, Mom, of anything that is not you. Slowly, I understand that it is I who is lying beside you, lifeless. I sense that I am being separated from you. Sadly, the bond between us is getting torn even before it is properly formed. Okay, I find warmth in those arms, and they are firm yet gentle. Looks like I am being taken somewhere else. I am farther and farther away from you. I will miss you, Mom. I am sorry to have caused you so much pain.

Indeed, losing a child during childbirth is the most painful experience, and the scars will remain lifelong. The child may also experience a sense of loss. Maybe, he does!