A Note To My Baby Bag.

Where life begins!

Photo by Ava Sol on Unsplash

While my girlfriend got her menarche, I was very disappointed. And had qualms on my femininity of shedding the blood of life myself! The fears were overpowering, what if I don't?

I'd die God!

We didn’t have internet or Google wisdom at our resorts in those days.
While asking Didi or Mummy would make us sound desperate, reckless and less dignified. So we kept our miseries to us, or at the most to one of the best of girlfriends.

For some days I avoided my girlfriend out of the insensible act of jealousy. After all, I was only 13 and haven't started bleeding, while she did.

And the added agony was, I just couldn't even share my fears! Ah!

After almost two weeks, my other girlfriend came blushing in our secret Sunday meeting.
"Hey, guys! Guess what?" I got it" she squealed.

Inside I was crushed, but I have to put up the happy face for her, or she may decipher my emotional turmoil. And misjudge me.

We all congratulated her to be second in line to celebrate menstruations. For some time we guessed who could be next in line?

That night I was shattered. I thought either I wasn't meant to be a complete woman or I was cursed! However, both the cases were devastating for 13 years old.

I prayed, "Dear God, you alone know how much I love being a woman since childhood! Why are you punishing me? Is it because I was jealous?" I tried finding the underlying factors of God's punishment.

I cried till my eyes turned red inside the pillow silently so that my sister doesn't intrude on my thoughts.

The next day, it was Monday I didn't go to school because I was afraid that my jealousy would find words.

I stayed home under the excuse of headache and spent the entire day erratically praying to God for letting me shed the blood as soon as possible.

The hidden reason for desperation was I knew all about baby bag by then. Our school showed us a film on reproduction. It was so much fun, all of us giggled the entire day in class.

The logic was as simple as 2+2=4 behind bleeding.

If you bleed, you have a baby bag, and later that mighty one enables you to house life and provide nourishment until they are ready to breathe out in a huge world.

When guests asked what you want to become when you grow up? I'd instantaneously say, MUMMYYYYY...

Maybe a deficit of one in my life shaped me that way.

It was all jumbled, I was scared to see fresh blood drip out of an unexpected place, though I knew exactly what powers I was now blessed with.

It took few cycles for me to normalize the routine and feel an upper hand on the girls who didn't in my class, it was a feeling of achievement I believe.

And then unison with my man, my baby bag allowed itself two tiny bleeps. The love of my life.

My baby bag nourished and comforted them with vigor and life. What else you can be grateful for in the world?

My prayers were realized to a degree I never thought of.

Now when the same baby bag is ill and upset, I again pray to God for its well being. For my womb, which helped me shape my flesh and blood and my blood line. After I am gone, I will still be remembered as a proud matriarch of beautiful brood. All because of this magical baby bag.

It also provided structural integrity to my femininity. I stood graceful and glamorous with it's support.

Once again, when my baby bag is down I wish and pray to bless it with immense love and gratitude in exchange for what it has done for me.

Because discarding a part of your existence is a painful process.

Heal well dear baby bag, I trust your insights and hold you in the light.



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