Deliver Me

Hi mommy. Can you feel me? I’m your little baby. You are keeping me safe and warm. You nourish me through the lifeline of the cord. I love you. I do not know you. I know inside of you. A place no one else can know. I hear your heartbeat. Your muffled voice. Telling me daddy says hello. I hear another voice. It is deeper. Is that daddy?

You are talking about me. About my movements. You say you can feel them. So I kick and move and roll more. I want you to know I feel you too. I cannot talk. I do not breathe. I can think. And I am thinking about you and daddy. I know some day I will meet you outside. I don’t know how I am so sure of this, but I am. You will hold me in your arms. Feed me from your breasts. Sing me to sleep. And love me with an aching love that is unbreakable.

I am excited to meet you. How will I get out? I cannot see a light right now. Do you know how? Will you help me? I am nervous too. I do not know how this goes. I have no idea. I am sure about some things, but not this.

When I am out, what will we do together? I imagine I will move around like you seem to. I can feel you going along, because I feel the movement in here. I suppose I’ll talk like you do. How will I learn? I don’t think I can make my thoughts into words. Will you teach me? Will you know that I love you back? How can I show you that? All this is very exciting – me being on the outside. Wow.

I hear all these other voices too. Not as frequent as yours, or even daddy’s. You mention grandma and grandpa now and again. Who are they? Are they my parents too? How many parents do I have? What makes people be my parents? Is the whole outside just going to be me? Me and my parents? Is that how it works? I’m holding my breath. Well I would if I could breathe in here.

Sometimes I am funny. I do this funny thing when I am funny. My mouth turns up at the ends, and I move quickly, bucking. Is that what you call laughing. I think it is, because when people say you are laughing it feels the same as when I do turned-up-mouth like-laughing thing. Will we laugh together? You sometimes cry. I’m not sure what crying is. It feels similar to laughing, except your body move slowing. I don’t think it’s a good thing though.

Daddy says, “Don’t cry. Everything will be fine.”

You tell him it is the hormones. What are hormones? They sound scary. Are they bad people who hurt you? I hope you get rid of them. Don’t let them scare you mommy. I will help you.

I notice you lie down a lot. It feels different. My home is sideways when you do that. It’s not a bad thing, but a little weird. Your heart beat is very slow normally, but gets even slower a while after you lie down. Or maybe mine is fast. Who knows? I used to be able to move around a lot. I did it more when you lay down. Now I am squashed. I keep getting bigger. I guess I’ll have to come out soon.

Mommy! Why is my home squashing me? Why are you screaming? Why are you doing the thing like laughing? Is everything okay? I hear a woman you call ‘doctor’ say two weird words. I have heard you and daddy say them a few times. ‘Epi Dural ‘. I don’t know what they mean. After that, you stop doing the like-laughing thing, and you and daddy chat again. You both sound excited. I am not excited. My safety is still squeezing me. Tightly. I don’t like it. I have heard you talk about me being upside-down. I don’t know what that means. I sounds like how I am in your tummy.

By my head, there is a hole that is getting bigger. I hear the doctor person say you are three inches, then five inches. What are inches? Are why are you them? Why is the number changing? The last number doctorwoman says, before the craziness happens is ten. What does that mean?

Why is my head being pushed through the hole. It is way too tight. Worse than the squashing before this. My face feels like its never going to be normal again. What is this? Oh wow. I see a light. I keep being pushed out. Further and further. My head is on the outside, my body on the inside. You and daddy are crying. I hear you more clearly now. I feel your hand on the top of my head.

“Is that my baby? Is he coming out?” you ask.

The doctor laughs, “Yes. And he has a lot of hair!”

What is hair? Is it a good thing or a bad thing? I presume because the doctor is laughing, that it is a good thing. I must figure that out later. Hang on. I’m half in, and half out. Is that okay? There is more squishing from inside. I suddenly flop out. The doctor catches me, and holds me.

It’s freezing out here, and God, it was such an awful thing with all that squashing. I open my mouth and make funny noises. My body shakes like mommy’s does sometimes. Water is coming from my eyes. Is this the crying like-laughing thing? I don’t like it.

“It’s a girl!” she exclaims.

What’s a girl? Is that another good thing? Is whatever a not-girl is, a good thing too? Is it bad? Does it matter? Mommy and daddy sound really excited, so they must be happy I am a girlbaby.

“We were so sure it was a boy,” mommy tells the doctor.

“You never know what you’ll get.” the doctor retorts goodnaturedly.

They sound happy about boybabies and girlbabies. I still have no idea what they’re on about. Another thing I’ll have to figure out. I suppose there will be millions of things I have to figure out. I hope mommy and daddy help me. Soon I am in mommy’s arms. Daddy and She are looking at me, smiling, and doing the crying thing (I think). Wow. You can do that at once. Does that mean they are happy or sad? They are saying happywords.

“Look at her. She’s perfect. We did it,” says mommy.

“You did it honey. She looks just like you. Oh no. She has your father’s nose. Help!” Daddy says.

What’s a father? What’s a nose? This is all very confusing. I wish I knew more. I will have to pay attention and learn. Mommy puts me by her breast and I try to suck. It is difficult. I don’t know why I do it, but it feels right. I would like to do this a lot. Mommy and daddy are crying more. I think they like it too.

I can’t wait ’til I figure all this life thing out. It is so exciting, a brand new journey. I wonder why mommy and daddy are so big. Or is it that I am small? I’ll figure that out too.

Love,
Girlbaby