love and a loss

It was a draining day. Long. Longer than those two days when I was birthing my girls.

Longer not just by hours, but by pain. And not just by physical pain.

Even after taking a bath with soaps and fragrances, the scent of her feminine blood and fluid would not go away from my body, my mind, my memory.

After disposing four baby pups one by one, after half a day of labour half a day of C-section surgery, bringing Nala home safe though still shaking, is the only good thing that happened through the day. 

And that was enough.

...

one baby was born early morning and noone in that house knew when. It died unattended. I heard it was Nala's colour. brown. I wish I could've seen her. I imagine it was a girl.

one baby was born through natural labour, in front of me at 9 am. It was black and golden, and it was tiny and and mom and daughter met and she fed her. She lived only for 12 hours. 

two babies were surgically taken out. one came out dead. The last one came out alive but died after an hour. The doctors tried hard. Heat pads, warm rubs, oxygen, whatnots. 

Nala had no baby to keep and love.

But she was not in pain anymore.

...

Nala didnt need to go through this. Wants and wishes of humans imposed on animals, other humans. This is so not how it's done. 

She was not taken adequate care of when she was expecting. She was in extreme pain, in body and in mind, went through discomfort and humiliation with breeders touching poking prodding her for hours to take the babies out. She looked helpless, she looked at me, I was helpless, I could give her no relief. 

During the C section surgery,  doctor traced internal infections and removed her uterus. I am happy she never has to go through this pain again. 

...

It was difficult sleeping the night. Early next dawn when i went over to see her, I found a bandaged lost blank Nala sitting up looking at the door, alone in the room, with white lights on. Wakeful, eyes full of questions, looking out for someone.

She could be missing the baby she saw, met, nursed. Or, she could be looking for someone to explain all that happened to her. 

I didn't cry the night before, but it was hard not to then. I did and we sat together, bodies touching, in silence. I cried, for her pain, her loss. 

...

Baba is sketching a picture of Nala. Ma must be praying for her feeling better.

I taught my disturbed disarrayed daughters that night - if you love, please love with responsibility.