Waiting To Be Born

This is a pleasant place to be as I wait to be born. It seems such a long time that I am floating in my space. However, it is cozy with a soothing sensation, and I shouldn’t complain.

I hear sounds around me. When my mother plays the piano, I am happy. “Greensleeves” is one of my favorites. When she sobs, I am sad. I hear my father, Dave, and my two brothers, Arnold and Howard, comforting her. They miss Mom’s sister Althea and Dad’s brother Nathan. They were such a happy couple (my mom’s sister had married my dad’s brother) who died so young because of the terrible flu epidemic that caused so much tragedy.

I often hear my mother telling friends that, even though their hearts are broken, she is glad to be carrying a baby whom the entire family hopes will be a girl—the first girl in the family.

I am sort of excited that I am a girl. I have to be a female for their sakes. I can’t disappoint them. I’m looking forward to my birth and the words, “It’s a girl.”

I’m getting bigger and more active. There are complaints about my kicking. The water is leaking, and that worries me.

Uh-oh, what is going on? There is so much commotion. It is February 4th and Mother is in pain. She is upset because it is snowing heavily and she needs to get to the hospital. They have gotten a taxi and my father has called the police, who arranged for a cruiser to lead the way.

My brothers are home with a babysitter because they could not be left alone. We are moving along as best we can. We finally arrive at the hospital, where I will come into the world. I’m excited but scared. This is a first for me. Mother and I are put into a wheelchair heading for the labor room.

As we move along, I hear screams and yelling. Oh, dear! That sounds bad! What am I in for?

It quiets down, and the nurse gets us ready for my delivery. For a couple of hours Mom carries on and even swears a little.

The doctor says, “Rose, calm down. You are doing well. Breathe out, and push as hard as you can.”

I hope I don’t land on the floor! Now I ‘m sliding. Bless you, doctor. You caught me.

Finally, the words I’d been waiting for came, “It’s a girl! She’s so pretty with dark hair and fair skin.”

I’m cleaned up and wrapped in soft bunting.

My father comes in. He has a look of joy and relief on his face and declares he will hang a flag out of the front window in honor of the sweetest, cutest baby ever born.

I am fed some sweet liquid, and my mother cuddles me closely and thanks God. Our cheeks touch. What a lovely feeling.

My parents are so grateful they have a healthy daughter who weighs eight pounds. They say I weigh more than my brothers did at birth. Does that mean I may be fat? I hope not.

For the next few days at the hospital, visitors keep coming to see me and I wonder what the word “Mazel Tov” means.

It’s been decided my name will be Althea Bernice Silverman on the birth certificate, but Grandpa Watchmaker keeps calling me Shanya Maidel. I hope that means something nice.

Finally, I’m back home in a pretty outfit. My mom says I wear clothes well for a week-old baby. I think I will really care about clothes. I‘m seeing better now.

People keep coming with gifts, and they say funny things like itchy itchy coo. That sounds silly.

My mother’s family says I look like Rose. My father’s family claims I look like Dave. Why can’t I look like myself? So many things puzzle me. One good thing is I’ve discovered how to cry loud enough that I get quick attention. It always works. I know I’ve been accepted by this family who cares so much for me. Even my brothers are beginning to like me.

I feel safe and secure because it looks like they are planning to keep me, especially if I am as adorable as they seem to think. I’m sure lucky to be the first girl. As the third boy, I might not have made out as well.