The last seven months have changed my life; I guess that’s what being a ‘beanbag’ does to you. For the last seven months I have been carrying a little bean that is slowly growing into a baby and it has been quite a journey. When I found out that I was pregnant seven months ago, it was one of the happiest and most exciting moments of my life. I was awed by the fact that I had a living being growing inside me. I spent hours visualizing what my baby would look like, talking and caressing it and beginning to plan for our new family with my husband, Suman.
People have continued to tell me that pregnancy is a beautiful time in a woman’s life, a special phase in a couple’s relationship and something that will change things forever. I agree with most of it and am sure that they are right but what you won’t hear people tell you is about the pain, discomfort and strange changes that a woman’s body goes through during this time. Nobody talks about the swelling of body parts, the growth of various oddities in nooks and crannies of your body, the constant nausea (I refuse to address it as just ‘morning’ sickness), the disgust you feel towards certain smells and sights, the despair you go through when you can’t find clothes that fit you right, the painful grunts you try to control as you toss and turn in an attempt to get some sleep at night and above all, the helplessness that your partner feels when he (or she) can only be a silent spectator to what is going on.
This journey has made me think more about what others go through, others who are not in an urban, informed and privileged setting like I am. Lately, I have been thinking more often about the young girls who should still be in school enjoying their childhood but who instead are either wives or widows of men twice their age and are bringing up children not much younger than themselves. I wonder what they have gone through and how they have dealt with the changes their bodies have had to witness.
Child marriage is a prevalent cultural practice in Nepal with 51.4 percent of girls married before the age of 18 and 40 percent by the age of 15. This, despite the fact the civil code act defines the legal age of marriage as 20 and with parental consent at 18 years of age. Most girls barely know what is going on when they are married off as they are still at the age where they probably think that it is some kind of a fancy dress game. They probably do not understand why they are being sent to live in a strange man’s house and do the duties that they have seen their mothers perform instead of playing with their friends. They are perhaps terrified when the same strange man comes into their bed and leaves them with a not so pleasant and ‘unforgettable’ memory as they have so far only known men the age of their fathers and uncles as protectors and not violators of their fragile bodies.
They obviously feel even more confused when after sometime they start feeling queasy and their stomachs start growing, especially given they were not at school long enough to learn about the female reproductive system. Terrified during the nine long months of changes in their bodies that they do not understand, most of these young girls do not have anybody to guide them on what these changes mean and how they should be dealing with them. What must they go through when instead of playing with little dolls, they are left to take care of their newborn baby? Pregnancy has made me think more about what others who are not in an urban, informed and privileged setting like I am go through.
I am 31 years old and yet amazed, in ways both good and bad, at all that is happening to me and at times, even terrified of the rest of the journey that lies ahead of me. While on one hand, I am in awe of the tolerance, inner strength, patience and acceptance of these young girls who are half my age, on the other hand I wonder why we could never give them a chance to prepare themselves for this beautiful phase in life. We could have done so by encouraging them to stay in school. Why were we unable to give them a chance to grow up on their own time and not expect them to become adults prematurely? We could have done so by allowing them the time to learn about their choices and help them make the ones most appropriate to their lives. Why were they never given the time to enjoy their first crush, get a sound education, do what they excel in, fall in love, learn from having their hearts broken and become the amazing women they are destined to be. Isn’t that what they deserve? Isn’t that what they should expect? Isn’t that what I can and should promise to my child?
Yes, these seven months have changed my life. It has got me thinking about what I can do to help change theirs.
The author is an expectant mother and a campaigner for the rights of young people. She blogs at www.letterstomylittlebean.wordpress.com
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