🌠You And Me Are Forever 🌠 (completed)

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The small sized rectangular piece of plastic, with one's pee in the small pit, to test your increased HCG, and giving you two pink lines of positivity. Pregnancy. The beautiful feeling for a women wishing to enter yet another phase of life. Being a mother. Mother. It just sums up everything. The incredible power that has been endowed to women to bring a being to life. Ascetic. Euphoric. Elating. And every other adjective that is used to express the happiness of the highest form. Being parents, it hold that.

The nine grueling months, and you have the little bundle of happiness swaddled in the cotton cloth, handed to the mother. That is it. But is the pregnancy just this, the nine months with big protruding belly coming to end with a baby. Is that all.

Probably No. Pregnancy just does not mean, giving birth, but it so much more to it, that is probably neglected by the world, with the advent of the baby with its cackles and babbles.

The nine months, the 38 weeks, or to be precise the 40 weeks of gestation, just not develops a baby but transforms a women too. Physically, emotionally, mentally. In every way possible. It just not the mood swings and morning sickness or the pain but so much more. So wide and so profound, yet neglected. All they see is the glow on the face, and smile on her lips.

The mood swings, being irritable and cranky on trivial things, crying at the miniscule matters, emotions high and vulnerable. Throwing up the things you like, but your baby doesn't. Giving up your favorite dishes, your favorite clothes. Heels, you might love, have to be just kept as a showpiece in the shoe rack. Bending, getting up, doing the daily chores, turned so labourious. Back pain, tender breast, difficulty in breathing, constipation, fluctuations in blood pressure, probably everything just comes to reside in you.

The popping acne, tremendous hairfall, stretchmarks. The constant moving of the baby, kicking of the baby, feels lively, feels elating, only if the pain in neglected. The excess presssure on bladder making you leak your urine with just laughing and so much more. The uterus taking up all the space within leaving no space for your own abdomen and intestines to function. Sometimes, if the baby is in playfull mood, the mother can be blessed with a kick in her chest, lungs at attack, making the breathing difficult. Sleepless nights, not able to sleep in one position, not able to sit for too long, not able to stand for too long, something that hardly was noticed prior. Feet swollen, like that of elephant.

Yet, at the end, it is the pot of gold. The ultimate treasure. Emotional, mental and physical turmoil taking a beautiful form. And everything feel worthy.

This is just the beginning, the life ahead is challenging. Bringing up a child is not a child play. It is a whole world in it own, which has its own highs and lows.

The exhilaration, the jubilation, was accompanied by woe and desolation for the couple. The two pink lines. The confirmation to her being pregnant. The confirmation to them being pregnant.

His eyes lit like the glowing stars. Like the brightest thing to ever exist. His happiness knew no bounds, as he took it to have closer look and make himself believe what he saw and contemplated from it. He saw it back and again rubbing his eyes, efforts to be in conscious and not a dream. A part of their reality and not an hallucinations or mere illusion of happiness, of life, of hope. A reality, and not a mirage of oasis.

Sana was still crying. Crying for the unfateful event of their life, crying over her unfortune, crying over her incompetency to be a good mother. Isn't it said and believed, that with mother a child can never have danger surround him. And she falsified it, as her baby succumb to danger of life and she failed to protect him.

He looked at her, and cupped her face, asking "baby kyu ro rhi, will you tell me please". His thumb rubbed over her cheeks wiping the incessantly flowing tears.