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The Red Line

Groggy eyed as I took a peak at the card I noticed two red lines. I stared hard, rubbed my eyes, and looked again. It was still there. I couldn’t believe it. It must be a mistake or perhaps I had done the test incorrectly. My initial instinct was to tell him but I doubted myself. I’d given up hope. It was never going to happen to us. But I could clearly see that there weren’t just one but two red lines, albeit one of them was fainter than the other but nonetheless they were still there.

No, I had to tell him. I walked out with the card trembling in my hands and climbed onto the bed where he lay snoring peacefully. I sat looking at him for a long time and suddenly felt a dread. Dé·jà vu! Hadn’t this happened before? The excitement, the happiness, the unexpected pleasure of knowing that there was nothing physically wrong with either one of us, feeling gifted that god had blessed us, had heard our fervent prayers over the years.

I remembered walking out of the doctor’s clinic with a spring in my step. Bubbling with excitement I had dialed his number and said, ‘hi daddy dearest, how are you?’ After a brief moment of silence, the meaning dawned on him and he was ecstatic. After 5 years of dealing with family pressures, numerous doctors, examinations, IUI’s, medications and one laparoscopy later, it had finally happened. The truth had overwhelmed us both.

But three weeks later, we lost the pregnancy. Just like that. Tests revealed I’d apparently developed gestational diabetes.

After a week of mourning our loss, we made peace with the situation, consoled ourselves in the belief that if it had to happen, it would. For now, we would just let it go and carry on with our lives. No more doctors and tests. No matter how painful, we’d closed that chapter of our lives.

Now exactly another five years later, I sat holding a home pregnancy test card in my hand which showed two red lines. Could it really be happening again? Should I tell him? What if we lost this pregnancy too? People always said, history repeats itself. This time the devastation would be too cruel. It would destroy us both. Did I really want to do this to him again? I couldn’t see him hurt anymore. I sat crying clutching on to the card. I felt torn with the knowledge of knowing and yet not being able to share it with him.

I know we’d buried the want of a child deep within and made peace with ourselves. But had we really? Then why was it that he was the perfect uncle to every child we knew within our family and friend circle? Why did we both unanimously notice cute kids everywhere we went? Why did it still hurt to hear about other people’s good news, listen about their children’s antics? Why had I asked him some time ago if we could adopt? Why did it still make me feel incomplete at times?

No, this was real. I was holding the truth in my hands. How can history be made if it just continuously kept repeating itself? A voice within said, history won’t repeat itself this time. We had unexpectedly been blessed again and we had to acknowledge that it was happening. I had to tell him.

I brushed away my fears, the tears and shook his shoulder.

One comment on “The Red Line

  1. Subhabrata Dasgupta
    April 1, 2012

    Fluidic narration. Wonderful!

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This entry was posted on March 31, 2012 by in Reflections and tagged , , , , , , .

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