The Monologue of an Unborn Baby

Week 8: Mother said my name was to be Jamal, Nikhil or Sachin, like the famous cricket player. Father said maybe something a little more traditional, perhaps Naadir, Shahid or Muhammad, like the famous prophet. I listened intently and giggled. Oh if only they knew.

Week 10: They said I’d be the most handsome boy in all of India; I’d break hearts someday. And as my heart began to beat I wondered if she could hear it sing, bum-bum, bum-bum. My heart is strong and healthy, mother.

Week 12: Mother said I’d be dressed in a blue cotton kurta with pajamas. Father said I’d preserve the families’ name and pride. As my arms and legs began to form I dreamed of dancing with the Bharata Natyam beautiful temple dancers dressed in golden saris with long plaited hair.

Week 14: Each day I grew more and more, people passing congratulated them and said they were blessed. I would often hear mother pray at night. And as tiny fingers began to grow on my hands, I pictured the day I would be able clasp them together, kneel next to her and together speak with God.

Week 16: Mother said she could feel me kick. Father said soon I would be able to see. It was dark around me. When born I hoped to see sunshine and flowers. Best of all, I’d be able to see my mother. I wondered what she’d look like. Perhaps I would look just like her?

Week 20: From the very beginning I felt so connected with my mother. Today she visited the doctor and I heard her cry. I cried with her. It broke my heart to hear her muffled sobs. I could not imagine what it was that would make her so unhappy. Then father yelled and mother cried even more. He said I was "useless." Useless?

Week 20: My name is useless.

Useless because I’m not a Jamal, Nikhil, or Sachin. I’m no Naadir, Shahid, or Muhammad. I’m not the most handsome in India. I don’t bring pride or preserve the family name because I won’t be dressed in

Blue.

I’m a girl. A useless little girl.

Whilst I innocently dreamed of you and life outside my peaceful, dark, cosy place, a poisonous monster loitered. I’s menacing toxic swirls slowly enclosed around me. I felt the most horrendous fear, mummy. Petrified, I began to scream, but no sound came over my lips. Useless. The monster came closer and closer and I kept on screaming, "Mummy help me, help me!" You weren’t there, mummy. No one could save me. I watched my cosy dark place fall around me. There was blood everywhere! The pain was excruciating. And it wouldn’t stop.

I knew that I was going to die. I knew that I would never grow, run, dance, smile, or sing. I’d never feel your warm hugs or see your beautiful face. Worst of all; I’d never hear how much you loved me. I wanted to stop all your tears; I wanted to make you happy. Useless.

More than anything I wanted to be your daughter.

Your daughter!

Daughter.

Useless daughter!