Reporter’s Notebook -- Deepa Bharath

My ankles are swollen to the size of grapefruits. Between tossing and

turning, I probably get about four hours of sleep at night. And when I

stand and look down, my belly blocks my view of my toes.

Billions and trillions of women all over the world have had babies

over the centuries. Millions probably have them every day.

But there’s something about the whole experience of being pregnant

that seems so miraculous, emotional and personal when it happens to you.

For one thing, it changes your perception of your body as you’ve known

it. I’d say I’ve handled it pretty well so far, given that I have, at

most, about four weeks to go before my son makes his grand entrance into

this world and dazzles our lives -- or so we believe.

It’s not one thing in particular. For instance, when you’re pregnant,

eating is much more than a simple, routine chore. There are those foods

you can’t bear the sight of, or want to throw up when you smell or even

think about. Then there are those foods you never really cared for when

you were not pregnant, but can’t stop thinking about now.

I hoped I would crave something like broccoli or celery. I wasn’t that

lucky. I really, really want French fries, something I wasn’t crazy about

in my pre-pregnancy days. Sometimes, when I’m at work tapping away at

those computer keys, I have visions of mounds of French fries -- stuff

you see in commercials and magazine ads, super-sized and glistening hot

oil giving them almost a kind of divine halo.

It’s not just the food that makes you feel -- well -- weird. There’s

all the aches and pains. Sometimes, you forget your “condition” and jump

up from your chair like you used to in your “I’m invincible” days. And

the next thing you know, it feels like a bolt of lightning just pounded

your lower back.

Don’t even get me started on those wacky emotions. I’m not generally

one to cry in public or even in front of close family members. I was

chastised by my family for not being moved to tears as we watched

“Gandhi” together.

But a month ago, I burst into tears during an episode of “7th Heaven.”

Do I dare explain?

But then, when you’re pregnant, that’s “normal” -- to my doctor and my

nurse midwife who sees me on a regular basis.

The swelling of the ankles?

“Oh yeah, that happens,” she says as a matter of fact.

The pain that shoots up and down your spine?

“That’s normal too,” she says. “That’s what happens when your uterus

gets larger and presses down.”

And how about when I fall asleep as I’m sitting down or standing up,

like I have no control over it?

“Of course you’re falling asleep,” she dismisses my question with a

gentle wave of her hand. “Your body is working twice as hard.”

And the waterworks?

“It’s the hormones,” she says, not even taking her eyes off my file.

So, although I feel oftentimes like I’m from another planet, they’re

telling me that I’m actually perfectly normal.

And that’s something that never ceases to amaze me.

This is not something that should blow my mind at all. After all, I

come from a country of at least 1 billion where 31 babies are born every

minute, 44,640 babies are born every day. I’ve seen pregnant women

working on construction sites, carrying heavy loads of rocks and cement

in 110 degrees heat.

I didn’t think twice about it. Everybody has babies, right?

Sure, everybody has babies. But what I’ve learned over these nine

months is that every baby is special. Every one of us is a living

miracle. Whatever the discomforts or inconveniences, the lack of sleep,

the loss of control over one’s life and, to top it all, the pain of

childbirth, which is another column altogether, it doesn’t really matter.

Ultimately, for all moms -- be it the construction worker who has

never seen prenatal vitamins or someone like me, who swears by iron

supplements and consults a multitude of pregnancy books -- there’s only

one thing to say.

It’s all totally and absolutely worth it.

* Deepa Bharath covers public safety and courts. She may be reached at

(949) 574-4226 or by e-mail at o7 [email protected] .