“I always want to go baby shopping,” Priya said, and then bit her lip. “But I think I’ll wait. Just in case.”
Madhu leaned and kissed her. “It’s going to be fine.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
But Madhu couldn’t quite keep his promise. That night the phone rang and an old, familiar fear reared its ugly head.
“There is some bleeding,” Doctor Swati said to Priya.
“What?” Priya could hardly form the word. Madhu had woken up as well, and they were huddled by Priya’s phone, set on speaker.
“How much bleeding?” Madhu asked.
“Calm down. I suspect it’s because of the examination we did yesterday,” Doctor Swati said. “It happens; it’s not a big deal.”
Not a big deal? Priya wanted to scream. This is how her miscarriages had begun: a little bleeding here and there, and then one day the baby was gone.
“How’s the baby?” Priya demanded.
“We did an ultrasound, and it looks just fine. The baby is under no distress; it’s healthy and growing as it should,” Doctor Swati said. “I sent some pictures by e-mail for you.”
Madhu immediately pulled his iPad onto the bed to look at his e-mail.
“So what does this mean?” Priya asked.
“Well, bleeding is never a good thing. But it was just a small amount, and it’s already stopped. However, since we want to be careful, I think it’s best if we move Asha to the surrogate house now instead of in two more months,” Doctor Swati said.
In the surrogate house, Asha would have twenty-four-hour care. There would be no accidents, no time lag from something going wrong to it being fixed. It was the best option, considering she was bleeding.
“But she will be away from her family then,” Madhu said.
“Just for two months more than planned,” Priya interjected before Doctor Swati said anything. “I understand it isn’t easy but . . . it’s our baby, Madhu.”
“Asha’s family lives close by, so she will be able to see them every day,” Doctor Swati said. “They will come and visit, and on weekends she can even go see them for a few hours if she wishes to. But from now on she will live and sleep in the surrogate house.”
Priya and Madhu had had a tour of the surrogate house. It was a clean and cozy place with room for about sixteen women in eight bedrooms. There were a couple of living rooms with televisions and sofas, a big garden, a spacious veranda, an oversize kitchen with a dining table, and a computer room where they were given computer classes. One of the living rooms was used for yoga lessons that the women were expected to take every day for fifteen minutes to a half hour.
The house had a full-time nurse, a den mother who used to be a surrogate herself, and two maids who cooked and cleaned. It was nice, halfway between a house and a hospital.
“Will Asha have a problem with this?” Priya asked.
“I have already spoken with her, and I think she understands the importance of her being taken care of,” Doctor Swati said.
“But is she happy about this?” Madhu asked.
There was a pause before Doctor Swati said, “Well, she isn’t happy about leaving her family, but it’s for a short time, and she will be in the company of several other women like her. It’s a place where she can bond and learn some new skills. And she will get better care than at home. She won’t have to cook or clean or anything. We have help to do that. All she will have to do is relax and be taken care of. A lot of women love staying at the house and actually miss it when they leave. It’s like being on vacation.”
Madhu and Priya both had doubts that being away from one’s family could ever be like a vacation, but it was their baby and they wanted what was best for their child.
“When will she move into the surrogate house?” Priya asked.
“Tomorrow, if you agree with me that it’s a good idea,” Doctor Swati said. “It’s my professional opinion that she should. It’s the best way to keep your baby and Asha healthy.”
“Then let’s do it,” Madhu said, looking for confirmation at Priya, who nodded.
They couldn’t sleep after the phone call. They lay in bed, just staring at the ceiling.
“My heart is still pounding,” Priya said.
“Mine, too,” Madhu admitted.
“Are we being selfish, Madhu?” Priya asked.
“It’s a bit late, don’t you think, to worry about that?”
“What does that mean?” Priya demanded.
“Just that our baby will always come first, and Asha knew what she was doing when she signed the contract,” Madhu said.
“Still makes me feel guilty,” Priya said.
“Me, too.”
Priya turned to Madhu, tears in her eyes.
“But you know what, I’m not just scared about the baby,” Priya said.
Madhu turned to face her. “What else are you scared about?”
“Losing you,” Priya said. “I’m scared that if something happens to the baby, you’ll leave . . . again.”
Madhu sighed and turned so he was once again staring at the ceiling. “Priya, it was a mistake. I thought we moved past this.”
“We did,” Priya said. “But that doesn’t mean a part of me . . . I still have this niggling fear that . . . Forget it. You’re getting angry.”
Madhu sat up. “I’m not angry. I’m frustrated that you bring it up again and again.”
“That’s not fair,” Priya said, sitting up as well. “I hardly ever bring it up.”
“I said I was sorry and I was. I still am. But I can’t take back what I did. It was stupid, but . . . why can’t you just let it go?”
Priya wiped the tears off her cheek. “I have let it go. But it comes back. Come on, Madhu, you left me while I was bleeding. You left. You were gone for three weeks.”
“And I came back,” Madhu said. “I came back. That was three fucking years ago, Priya.”
“I know,” Priya said. “I’m being unfair.”
Madhu hugged her. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I have no life without you. I love you.”
“I’m being silly,” Priya said, resting her head on his chest.
“No. I’m at fault here. I fucked up. I was . . . I fucked up, and there’s nothing I can do to take it back, but it’ll never happen again. You know that, don’t you?” Madhu asked.
Priya nodded, not lifting her head.
“I’m sorry I brought it up. I don’t think about it all the time or anything. I’m not upset about it, but . . . it comes back, that fear. Losing you, losing a baby, it’s all mixed up in my head,” she said.
“I know,” he said, and stroked her hair. “I know. And I’m with you all the way. I’ll never leave you again.”
“And I’ll never push you away as I had, either,” Priya said.
They held each other for a long time, not wanting to let go. They were the only two people in the world who knew how they felt, knew enough to comfort each other.
“Will this baby be OK, Madhu?” Priya asked, sobbing.
“Yes,” Madhu said, but Priya could hear the uncertainty in his voice.
The whole thing had been so out of character for Madhu that sometimes Priya wondered if it had actually happened. It was after her second miscarriage, and it seemed at the time like they were beginning to fall apart. The cracks in their marriage were starting to show. The stress of losing yet another baby and the doctor telling them that there could be more miscarriages had devastated both of them. They didn’t officially decide to stop trying to have a baby, because they never used any protection anyway. Instead, their sex life had gone from prolific to once in a while. Depression was hell on the libido.
When Priya got pregnant for the third time, she didn’t tell Madhu about it right away. And that had been the sledgehammer that devastated their already cracked marriage. Priya always felt that what really broke Madhu’s heart was not losing another baby, but that she hadn’t trusted him to be supportive enoug
h to tell him as soon as she knew.
She waited nearly six weeks. They had started spending less and less time together by that point. Both were busy with their work, and Madhu had been traveling a lot. Like the sex, they hadn’t deliberately set about distancing from each other; it had just happened.
They were watching television late one night, sprawled on the couch, when Priya told him.
“What?” Madhu asked.
“You didn’t hear me the first time?” Priya demanded, irritated by his tone.
“I heard you fine,” Madhu said, turning off the television. “Pregnant? Again?”
“Madhu, we have unprotected sex; there is a chance we can get pregnant,” Priya said.
“I know that, but . . . I just didn’t expect it,” Madhu said, slowly grasping the meaning of what Priya had told him. “When did you find out?”
Priya paused, contemplated whether to lie, and then told him the truth.
“You waited six weeks?”
“Well . . . yes.”
“Why?”
Priya shrugged.
“That’s not an answer,” Madhu said, his voice getting hard.
“Well, this isn’t exactly the warm response I expected,” Priya said, getting defensive, standing up to leave the living room.
“You waited six whole fucking weeks to tell me that we’re going to have a baby. Why?”
Priya had tears in her eyes. “Just because. You’ve been traveling and . . .”
Madhu shook his head. “You wanted to wait and see if you’d lose it. And then what was your plan? Not to tell me at all?”
Priya stared at him in disbelief. “How can you say that? Of course I’d tell you.”
“I don’t know, Priya. Right now I don’t know what the hell is going on. Why the hell are we even still getting pregnant? Why the hell are we trying again and again? I don’t want children. Can’t you understand that?” Madhu yelled.
“I didn’t trick you into getting pregnant. You could’ve worn a condom if the idea is so repulsive,” Priya yelled back.
“Why did you tell me today?” Madhu asked.
“I thought it was time,” Priya said.
“So you decide when it’s time?” Madhu said, nodding. “Right, because this is your baby. I’m just the fucking sperm donor.”
“That’s not true, Madhu,” Priya said, exasperated. “I didn’t tell anyone I was pregnant. I’m scared of losing the baby. I just didn’t want to say anything.”
Madhu looked her in the eye and softly said, “I’m scared of losing the baby, too. We could’ve been scared together. But I think you should be scared alone this time. I’m done worrying about this shit.”
They were still angry with each other the next morning, and Priya had used that as an excuse not to ask Madhu to come to the ultrasound with her.
But she should’ve called him when the doctor told her there was no heartbeat and recommended a DNC. She should’ve called and asked him to hold her hand. By not calling him, she had wounded their marriage more. On the other hand, he packed up and left when she told him she had lost the baby again, so in retrospect they were even.
Krysta had driven Priya home. Madhu wasn’t there. Krysta had stayed for a while, but Priya had wanted to be alone; it hurt too much—her body, her heart, everything—and it hurt more to have a witness to her pain, her grief, her ultimate inadequacy as a woman.
“You OK?” Madhu had asked when he got home, coming into the bedroom, his hand on his tie. He usually didn’t wear a suit, which meant he’d probably been meeting clients that day.
“No,” Priya told him. Did he think she was OK? Couldn’t he see the tears? The pain? Couldn’t he see anything?
“You lost the baby,” he said matter-of-factly, like he was telling her that she had burned the rice again.
“Yes,” Priya said, her face cracking, her arms lifting ineffectually like she wanted a hug but didn’t know how to ask, knew that he wouldn’t give her one.
He shook his head. “I knew it.”
“You knew it?” she demanded, dropping her hands on her lap. “You didn’t think the baby could survive?” She wanted to blame someone, and here he was. He didn’t believe it would last, and now she’d lost the baby.
He shook his head again. He didn’t come near her. He stood by the door like she had a plague, a horrible, contagious disease he was afraid of catching.
“Yes, I knew it and so did you,” he said. “That’s why you waited to tell me you were pregnant. You were waiting for the miscarriage to happen so that you never had to tell me.”
“No, that’s not why I waited. But is that what you wished for? That I never told you?” Priya demanded.
“Yes,” he said, and surprised her. “Yes. I wish you didn’t tell me you were pregnant so that I didn’t have to know that we lost yet another baby. I wish . . . you’d stop getting pregnant altogether so that we can stop losing babies.”
“How can you say that? Don’t you want a child as much as I do?” Priya asked.
“No,” Madhu said. “No. I don’t want a child. I don’t want a dead baby. I don’t want any of this. I just want us to have a normal fucking life where we can go for a movie, go out, laugh a little, enjoy life. When was the last time we had a good time as two people?”
“We’ve had plenty of good times,” Priya said, her insides churning because he was telling the truth. The past year had been a nightmare. She had been depressed, disinterested in everything and everyone. But it wasn’t like he had tried to cheer her up or get her out of her rut.
“There have been no fucking good times since you got on the damned mommy bandwagon,” Madhu said, screaming now, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Why the hell can’t you just give it up? Just give up. We can’t have children. Now let’s get on with our lives. OK?”
“No,” Priya screamed in response. “I want a baby. I don’t want a life without a baby.”
“You have me,” Madhu said. “Or is that not as important?”
Priya waited a long second before saying the worst thing she could have. Looking back, she couldn’t really be blamed, not when her hormones were running crazy and her head wasn’t screwed on straight.
“No, you’re not as important as a baby to me,” she told him calmly. “Nothing is more important to me than having a baby. I want a child.”
“Well, then, have your baby. You’ll just have to do it without me,” Madhu said.
He had packed his travel suitcase then, right in front of her while she lay in bed, seething, still bleeding, unable to believe that he was leaving.
He couldn’t be leaving, could he?
No. He was just being stupid.
Well, then, let him be stupid.
“I’ll pick up the rest of my stuff later,” Madhu said, and left.
Priya heard the door shut, heard his car roar away. And then she was alone.
She was alone for three weeks.
Priya hadn’t been able to find him. He hadn’t answered her calls and she had too much pride to start calling his friends or show up at his work to look for him. If he wanted to be gone, then so be it, she had told herself. She was the injured party here. She was the one who’d had a miscarriage—how dare he have a temper tantrum while she was bleeding and weak?
But after the first two nights of his absence, Priya worried that this wasn’t a temper tantrum. He was gone, probably for good.
“Go to his office, corner him, and ask him what he wants,” Krysta had suggested when she came to check on Priya over the weekend.
“I can’t go to his office,” Priya said. “I . . . do you think my marriage is over?”
“He did pack his bags and leave,” Krysta said thoughtfully, and then, seeing the devastated look on Priya’s face, patted her hand. “But marriages go through stuff like this. He just needs to get some distance. And so do you, Priya. It’s not all him. You need to think things through, and so does he.”
“And then he’ll come back?” Priya asked, t
errified that he wouldn’t. She didn’t know how to go about her life without Madhu. She didn’t know how to wake up and live her life without him. She couldn’t sleep well when he traveled. She didn’t cook if he wasn’t at home. She didn’t laugh without him.
“Sure, he’ll be back,” Krysta said. “But . . . just in case, you do have your own bank account, right?”
Priya shook her head. “No, we have a joint account.”
Krysta’s eyebrows rose into her hairline.
“Come on, we’ve had a joint bank account since we moved in together in school,” Priya said. “He isn’t going anywhere with our money.”
“Go to the bank and set up your own bank account, and then transfer half your savings there,” Krysta recommended.
Priya couldn’t fathom separating their finances like this. It would be a signal to Madhu that she didn’t have faith in them.
“Don’t be stupid, Priya,” Krysta warned her. “Those women on Oprah are just like you and me.”
“Madhu isn’t a thief, Krysta,” Priya said.
“This isn’t about moral values or what you believe in. Divorce brings out the worst in people. At least you guys don’t have children to fight over,” Krysta said pragmatically, unaware of how insensitive that sounded.
Priya had not gone to the bank. She refused to give up hope. But she had also stopped calling Madhu’s cell phone. If he was going to come back, then he was going to come back, but not because she called him five times a day.
She told no one about his leaving. He was on a business trip, she told her parents when she spoke to them, and she had the same answer for their friends who called. She would lie: “I’m not sure where he is. Dallas, or was it LA?”
She said it to so many people in such a short period of time that she started to believe it herself. Madhu was on a business trip; he hadn’t walked out on her.
The loneliness was bitter. It was acidic, this feeling of being just one person in mind and body. There was no one to reach out to in the night, no one to turn to and comment about the news, no one to share a joke with or bitch about traffic. She was alone. This is what it means to be divorced and single, she thought. It was one thing to have always been single—then you didn’t know what you were missing—but it was another to have been so deep into a marriage, into a relationship, and then find that part of your soul ripped out.
A House for Happy Mothers: A Novel Page 10
