How they came to life.

I had looked in the rose. Nothing. I had looked in the cabbage. Nothing. I waited for the stork delivery. Nothing.

One day the doctor confirmed. There was a life in me. Other than me. A precious life in the making. Okay. Did it made me different? Not really. The first time, it was difficult to realize. Just letting the time pass and expecting to get used to it. Well, nothing special there. Almost no morning sickness, no cravings… just a tummy getting bigger and I getting slower and clumsier.

I remember the first echography where you can see the facial features. The technician showed me in the screen my son face. She was happy for me. I was happy also, but not overly excited. I remember laughing then, seeing the face rendered on the screen. It was like a monster mask. It is what I said then, laughing… I am not sure they didn’t think I was perhaps stressed if not crazy. With the very first scan, where there is but a small embryo, it looks like a shrimp… then it transformed to a monster, empty orbs, no lips… Does anyone sane can really say this is cute?

It made no difference. I was already loving this monster. He would be my responsibility for the next twenty or so years. And already I was wondering if I would be able to do right by him.

So, where does it leave me? A monster on the making… or an angel to enlighten our lives.  

Then came the day planned for his arrival on Earth. Nothing. Few days later, still nothing. The doctor gave him a week and then we planned to extract him by force if needed. Was it a sign of his character already? Lazy or late by birth? Later he will be able to say: ‘even for my birth I was procrastinating’.

Then came the day planned for the forceful extraction. Well, it seemed he got the memo this time. The monster decided to be an angel and to come his way out. Was I expecting the day the way it happened? Not really. Funny how some women planned the birth of their kids the way they planned their wedding. Well, I did somehow the same. My wedding was a contract signed with two witnesses and a judge of the law, no music, no rings, no white dress and whatnot. Straight to the main purpose. But this is for another story…

So, I was not expecting anything in fact for the day I would carry my son in my arms for the first time. I was just hopping everything would be alright with him. Well, no need to say it was a long day, full of waiting time and expectations. Waiting for a room to be free, waiting for all nominal parameters to be green… Then expecting that the little one would come out by himself within the allocated window…

I guess giving birth is not rocket science, nor rocket launching… You can’t postpone it to another day if the weather is cloudy or rainy. Almost every mom will tell you it was not what they expected. There is the pain, different for each, but still present. There is a bit of a mess down there, blood and other… well… you get it. So, I was not expecting much, but at least I was thinking my little prince would decide to come out at some point. I was ready to suffer in my flesh and my blood… Well, whatever I say now, I was not so proud at the moment.

Not proud, but grateful. When I think how some people say they would be living in the Medieval times if they could choose, I am grateful I am living in these days and age. I would be no more if not, and not just because the Middle Age is way centuries back our time… This is not something I like to remind myself, but the day my Little Prince came to this Realm was a day I could have depart it.

The funny side of this adventure is that I had a revelation. I had this image in head of the spaghetti scene in the film Alien. I am sure the scriptwriter had some experience with an emergency c-section… Well, joke aside, I just remember that the pain stopped at some point, and when they brought me the result of all this waiting, huffing and puffing, I was puzzled.

What was I expecting, again? Not much. The first thing I did was check if he had all necessaries attributes, the right number of fingers and toes… I heard people would say ‘How cute!’, ‘What a handsome boy!’ ‘Oh, he looks like you!’… Really? I didn’t find any resemblance so strong that it made it obvious. Was he a cute baby?, well, I guess… he had long and curly eyelashes, a soft duvet on his head, a not-too-big head, even if it was so stuck someplace earlier that the doctors had to pry him out of my womb in a more radical manner. For what I saw, all babies look alike at birth, or not too different. Was he really mine?

He did look almost alike some of the other babies aligned in the cribs near him in the nursery room. But without any hesitation I was able to pick him up from behind the glass, to identify his cry on the other side of the corridor. What makes this link between a mother and her infant? What makes this confidence in a mom when her progeniture is concerned? Is motherhood innate?

Innate, or acquired, motherhood is like a ‘pas de deux’. It was like dancing, moving and keeping balanced, adjusting to the other danseur. Learning to cohabitate. Seeing my little one first signs of recognitions, like we imagine a newborn in any species recognizing its mother, I was amazed. He was looking at me with awe… I was his haven, his everything. His first smiles were pure honey sunbeams, sweetmeat for my heart.

The firsts are always so enjoyable and make to forget about the hard times that came before. I took the Little Prince home when it was time, and starting to learn with him how to live together. First tooth, first food, first steps, first booboos… firsts adventures I accompanied him into… these are matter for other pieces of inarticulate thoughts…

We were comfortably heading to more adventures and discoveries. And then, two years later the Princess Royale came aboard. You would think that having been through it once makes for knowledge and confidence. This time, all the ordeal would be better orchestrated, no quack was supposed to break the melody.

Everything was as perfect as for my first attempt at creating life. Until the day planned for her arrival on earth. Princess Royale showed an impatience her older brother didn’t have. Does it hint for her character? We will see with time I assume. The pretty little Lady decided to grace us of her presence a day earlier than planned. I had no complaints to that. For this time I would not have to go through a forced extraction… I expected.

Did it went as expected? No! None of my little angels came a natural way in the end. There is talk about how babies suffer during the moment they come to this world. Which one is more stressful for them? Being hard-pressed within a narrow canal or forcefully extracted from a bloody cut in my womb? Take it I am keeping saying forcefully while it most likely had been all gentle… In any cases, this time I was more aware of the situation.

For some reason, I thought that giving birth would entails me to huff and puff, cry and blame hubby, and cry some more when seeing a small bundle of love coming out all trembling and bloody. This time I was not in the haze induced by a too long labour, this time I saw the crude light of the theatre, the gloomy green scrubs and the scary masked strangers. They were shouting around me, shouting at me. I felt like a turkey on the kitchen counter on Thanksgiving.

Did my angels came to this word in such a dreadful atmosphere? Did they miss the first contact with a loving breast as soon as they were out? They are such happy and cheeky little monsters. I am not sure if there is any sequel in us from the way we came to this world, but I know that we are what we experienced. My little ones are about to make their own experience and discoveries. How am I supposed to accompany them on their journey?

I created life, made them my semblance, and now I have to help them develop their uniqueness. Loving is nurturing. It is even harder and scarier than giving birth. What will I be teaching them? Or is it the opposite? This will be for me to explore further…