Gravid Memories

It must be the time of year when the most children are born. That would explain why I see in women in their third trimester wherever I go. They remind me of my own time. I had started a journal to record my experiences that ended up becoming a letter for J.

Today it reads like a testament of emotional upheaval – there were ominous signs that my marriage was coming undone and I was in denial. I painted myself a perfect family and home where J would come to live and grow. I was hoping to defer if not deny the inevitable. In the midst of all the turmoil, I found solace in listening to old Bengali songs I had grown up hearing my father sing. When I listened to certain songs, J would seem to grow very still in my womb like she were listening too - most often they were my favorites numbers.

Our first bonding came through a shared love of music and that more than anything else makes us the most happy together even today. We were listening to some of those songs this evening after a long time. J was delighted and did some of her ballet moves to go along. She made east meet west as she must unconsciously do all the time. What a long way J and I have come from that first moment of purest ecstasy when I tested positive on the stick test.