Baby Fever

" You know why babies are so cute?" my mother used to ask me.

I wouldn't answer. 

" So that they can manipulate you into taking care of them," she would answer herself. "They cry at any hour, poop themselves, and need you for everything. They will leave you with no sleep wrecking you, but you will still want them. One little smile from them, and it takes all the pain away." 

She had eight, so she would know. 

There's also that feeling you get in your belly when you enter a baby shop. 

Your heart may be the Artic at the peak of winter but it will beat faster or skip one a few times while you are in there. It may be badly rusted iron on the edge of decay but your heart will not resist the intense magnetic force of baby butterflies. You will awww, smile and as though being pulled, will reach your hands out to touch the tiny, cute, colourful matchy matchy baby clothes. 

And if those don't get you, or the toys, you will not escape the tiny baby shoes. You will find yourself picking them up and placing them on your palm as though to measure. You will even put your fingers in them and mimic tiny steps. You will smile here. Let out a chuckle even. 

And manufacturers in the baby stuff industry based on the fluffy feelings people get when they see their products must have borrowed a cue from babies themselves. 

I never thought I would ever get to hold a baby in my hands. My own baby. At least in the earlier years of my life and marriage. 

I would imagine playing with her cute little feet as I bathed in the joyful healing laughs she would let out. I saw myself watching her as she slept wondering what she could have been dreaming about. I thought about lullabies and debated if they ever truly worked. On occasion, I would window shop at baby sections in stores just to see what new stuff they had, but I never once thought that I'd ever get to buy those tiny cute clothes for my child. 

But here I was. In a baby shop shopping till I dropped with my husband and mother-in-law. They were silently banded together behind me the whole time not suggesting or picking anything but were there for support at least. I would take that. 

Showing strong emotion had never been a big part of their lives. At least with each other, even in the three decades of their life in the Western world. Living through and having to escape a communist regime at the peak of its atrocities could have turned any heart somewhat numb. 

They never liked to talk about it. They said they got out before things had gotten too bad. My husband said he couldn't remember much too. And having to adjust to a new life in a foreign land while losing a husband and father soon after leaving just the two of them, must have been the paradigm shift that tipped everything over. 

It had been eight years since Mitri and I had been married. He had stated earlier on in our relationship that he did not want children and I, drunk in love with this macho man with a faint accent, high on the crusade of 'this world is too cruel a place to bring a child', flabbergasted by the huge costs of raising one, a little bit lazy I'll admit and seduced by the idea of the freedom of a child-free lifestyle, shared in his sentiments with little question. We were a match. 

The reasons anyone wouldn't want a child are obvious. Right? 

But people change in time and so do their perspectives. And there is that joy that I feel can only be brought by the fluffy feelings of holding a tiny human in your hands. Looking at that oversized head on a tiny body with its two big eyes or when trying to open the tight grip of their tiny little fingers. A renewed sense of healing and fulfilling contentment when you play a part in building them and watching them grow. 

Even the science backs me up on this. So please, don't come for me accusing me of not sticking to my end of the bargain. 

I did not discuss this with Mitri. As bright as day, he had been adamantly consistent in the matter throughout. He would never enter a baby shop with me at the mall calling it a reach and a waste of time and rarely held babies in his arms even at family gatherings. And when he did by any chance, he would quickly give them back as though they were bees that stung. I caught him in several instances flinching when he heard a baby cry. When it chuckled he would go deep into thought.

I saved myself the trouble. Discussing my feelings with him would have been like talking to a wall. 

I simply decided to actively try to conceive. At thirty-eight, I didn't expect it to be a walk in the park or successful even. To my surprise, it was! 

" Here's the card," Mitri said as he passed it to me, "Call me when you are done and I'll come to help you carry. Mother and I will wait in the car." 

Even though he offered me the support I needed as much as he could, and had volunteered for therapy sessions to deal with the situation, Mitri had been cold and distant throughout our pregnancy. I had expected this. And had even contemplated singlehood if his cold shoulder got colder. I had made the decision on my own and felt strong enough to pull through by myself. There's a place in life you arrive at when you realize that some experiences can be enjoyed by yourself and don't have to be shared for them to be fulfilling. 

That's why I didn't call him when I was done with shopping. I simply carried the lightest bag by hand, told the helpful shop attendants of our basement parking spot and slowly walked to the car. They said they would be behind me with the purchased goods. 

" I should have had a vasectomy Mother. I should have had it!" I heard Mitri's voice when I neared the vehicle. 

Parked at the corner behind the left wall, they could not see me approaching. I had heard them talking and had gotten curious. I placed the bag on the floor and hid at the edge of the wall. 

" No need to cry now, Dimitri. Your child will be here in two weeks. Straighten up your shoulders. You are a man now and Soviet was a long time ago. That is in the past. We are here now. Today," his mother said reassurance registered in her voice. 

" Mother I can't… I can't… I have tried and tried. I can't… I just can't… I just keep seeing…" 

" Yes, you can, child. It is not your fault. Those we tough times. We did what we could at that time to survive... It was not your fault. You know that. You were only a boy. The decision was your father's and I's. Not yours. He is gone now so leave the blame to me. Leave it all behind. Pick up the pieces and move on. Celebrate your miracle. Live your life and be happy. Isn't that what your therapist has been telling you these past eight months?" 

" Mother …" Mitri sniffled. 

" Dimitri. You need to be there for Kira. Mentally and physically. Wipe your tears and go help her with the bags. She must have finished shopping by now. You need to be a man. The man she needs now. When you want to, and even when you don't want to. That's how life goes." 

" Mother … It's not that simple. It's not. There's something you do not know." 

" What child? I know everything. Everything. I am the one who sent your father to the Savxo's. I made the suggestion. The pick. What don't I know? " 

" Mother… When father and I left with the baby that day, we… we did not exchange it with the neighbours." 

"Huh?" came the shocked voice of my mother-in-law, "What do you mean? It's been years Dimitri. What do you mean?" 

Silence followed. I hung on. Dimitri in between long sighs then continued.

" We found the neighbours had already… mmmh … done it with theirs. So… So we prepared the baby in the snow and… and brought her back home to continue the rest."

More dead silence followed. Faint ringing in my ears, I struggled to remain strong as a million thoughts rushed through my head. 

"You did not know as you were asleep Mother. You just thought it was the other baby." 

My legs were fidgeting. My knees cracking. My hands shaky, their muscles weak. I tried to hold on to the flat wall for support, my heart racing as cold sweats trickled down my face.

What were they really talking about? I wondered. It couldn't be… It couldn't be…

" No! Nooo… No … Your father could have told me…. Nooo …" my mother-in-law let out a panicked shriek. 

" Mother… it is true. We. We ate our own baby." 

I felt my stomach overturn. I dropped to my knees gasping for breath. Faintly in the distance from the other side, I could see the two shop attendants rolling trollies rushing in my direction. They were shouting waving their hands in the air. Then it all went dark. 

" Oh, we were just a few steps away," I could hear their distant echoed sounds telling my husband who I now could feel lifting me. " She must have been exhausted shopping alone for close to two hours in her condition." 

An intense pain, my belly jerked as I kept drifting in and out. I tried to remain strong, thoughts flooding my head telling me that this was not just about me. 

" Oh goodness! Call the ambulance. We need to take her to the hospital Dimitri. The baby! Look! The baby is coming!" came the echoed shriek of my mother-in-law. 

I opened my eyes in a room with white walls, a white gown on me, and a needle stuck to my left hand. Hazy, I tried to find my bearing. I could no longer feel a baby in my belly. Confused, I lowered my right hand to feel my belly. That's when it all came rushing back. 

I looked around and saw a rugged Dimitri curled up in the seat next to my bed. 

I tried to call him. 

He sprung up, then walked to me and asked if I was ok before rushing out leaving me even more confused. I felt weak and numb as I tried to move. A few minutes later he came back a nurse behind him rolling a transparent crib, a baby in it. 

" How are you feeling? Can you hold your child?" he asked me as he checked the drip hanging over my head then raised my bed, " It would be best that you find the strength to nurse her." 

My eyes were on my husband. He stood a step away his eyes fixed on the baby, his arms stuck to his body, a solid expression on his face. 

The nurse helped me hold the baby as I struggled trying to nurse her. Mitri watched silently still expressionless.

He spoke when the nurse stepped out after placing the baby back in the crib. 

" We haven't named her yet. You never told me her name." 

" Have you held her?" I asked him.

" No," he answered nothing written on his face.

"Mitri," I summoned the strength, " I thank you for this wonderful gift. I'm sorry for not asking you before making the decision. I should have and for that, I apologise. And I free you from it all. I will take it from here." 

He looked at me in puzzlement. His mother entered the room.