Oh Baby...

I’m 13 years old. I’m in the living room of my parent’s house watching Cinderella with my sisters. The mice are singing about getting ready for the ball and in the master bathroom on the other side of the wall my Mom is complaining of contractions. My Father is firm but unconcerned as he tells us to get our things together. It has already been decided that I will be going with them up to the clinic for the birth. I don’t really want to go. I know enough about all this birthing stuff to know that it will mostly be a lot of waiting and lord knows, I don’t want to actually see the birth. My Mom is concerned about my connection with the baby since we will be so far apart in years, so she insists that I go with them.

We all pile into the car and head over to Mark and Carolyn’s house to drop off the girls. It all seems pretty relaxed. Mom doesn’t seem panicked and Dad pleasantly waves goodbye to the girls and promises to call as soon as there is any news. The drive down to the clinic is quiet and as soon as we get there, they bundle Mom into the back room and Dad has me lay out my sleeping bag. Hours go by and I read all the books in the waiting room. My favorite one is the one with the obscene pictures about “Where babies come from”. The pictures aren’t clinical like most, and involve some very cartoonish images of a fat balding man with a giant penis who seems to be copulating with a fat, large nippled, woman. . I try to imagine what their baby will look like and feel kind of grossed out by the idea.

I finally fall asleep only to be awoken a few minutes later. My dad says that Mom had a baby boy and would I like to see him. I crankily inform him that I’ll see the baby in the morning and he growls, “Your mother worked very hard, now you get in there…” I walk slowly down the long dark hall, hoping that all the blood and gore has been cleaned up. I’m greeted by two sleepy midwives who are quietly cleaning up. My mom looks tired and sweaty and on her chest is a very red little newborn. She hands him to me and I feel relieved that he is a boy. I know my parents didn’t want another girl.

I see how proud and happy my parents are and I feel the weight of the baby in my arms and I think that maybe someday, I’ll have one too. Then I see the midwife pour a red glob of something into a metal bowl and she catches my eye. “The placenta…” She says in an educational tone. The baby starts to feel VERY heavy. I see the midwives changing out some bloody mats from the bed. I feel a little faint. Maybe, I think, I’ll just get a goldfish or something.