Our oldest child, Myriam, was conceived purposefully. We as adults, decided that it was our possible moral responsibility as “normal” married people to procreate. We knew that we were ready for this life altering experience. We read the books. We had seen others, less successfully than we would, of course, procreate and bring forth life. How hard could it be really? I mean cavemen did it and they didn’t have the What to Expect series of books and videos
to guide the way. What to Expect
doesn't cover everything we would later find out.
to guide the way. What to Expect doesn't cover everything we would later find out.So we had sex. Lots of sex. Lots of incredible, highly satisfying, toe-curling, sex. Ok, maybe not. Maybe what really happened was after a drunken party weekend, spent canoeing on some obscure river in Missouri--what we like to call a “float trip”, my sunburned, highly dehydrated husband and I had a quickie that resulted in us getting pregers; and this fact has been cause for jokes and ridicule from my girlfriends ever since. So much for trying! What we will learn later in this story is that if my husband even gives me his sexy look, I’m going to end up PG.
What I find really interesting about all of this is that a couple of days after said quickie, I awoke from a dead sleep, sat straight up in bed and knew I was pregnant. I had to wait almost two weeks to confirm it with a pregnancy test. I don’t understand all those scenes you see on TV or in the movies where the women are waiting for the eight to ten minutes it takes for the test to give you a result. They’re wringing their hands and bemoaning the eternity it takes for the results come through. I peed on the stick and no sooner had it got wet, a plus sign appeared. Five maybe, ten milliseconds, tops.
After a very easy pregnancy, Myriam was born via C-section. The official reason for the section was failure to descend. Translation: the baby’s head is so enormous there is no way, short of breaking the pelvis in two, for it to make it out on its own! In my case, what I think really happened was young, single, female OBGYN didn’t want to waste the rest of her Friday night waiting on me. So in the end I labored; I epiduraled, I was cut open and a baby was ripped out of my uterus. It was easy. Six hours from start to finish and I was blessed with the most beautiful and serious baby the world had ever seen. No swollen, bruised, cone-head shaped squallers for me thanks. My baby had a perfectly round head full of jet black hair and a tan (thanks to jaundice)! In other words, I did it! I had conceived and birthed a nice little brown grandchild for my Hispanic father. Whoo, hoo!
Eventually, the black hair gave way to a golden head of curls. Her blue eyes stayed and intensified. The buliruben worked its way out of my daughters system and her golden color faded, leaving an ethereal, pale cast to her skin. My husband’s Redneck, white boy genes had proven stronger than I first imagined. They would become an obstacle that I would have to overcome.
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