To Be A Baby
They’re such tiny little creatures. Innocent. Unaware. Confused. Scared. Absolutely helpless.
Billy was born this morning–and due today. Less than 12 hours ago. I’m probably the 10th, maybe 15th person his little eyes have seen. And as our preceptor explained the physical exam to us, he was both completely human and completely foreign at the same time. The body, the face, the hair. The eyes. The fingers and toes and the belly. All human. I’m watching her push down into his tiny little abdomen to feel for masses, and I’m picturing how tiny and fragile and *new* everything must be inside. Comparing it to my old, wrinkled, fat cadaver. Comparing it to myself. She’s pushing down harder than I expect, and I begin to worry that she’s hurting him. This new little person who wasn’t here yesterday. Who’s got this insanely unique life ahead, who has a name, and a family, and a whole world around him. He didn’t know it was there, and we didn’t know he was here, either.
But he’s so mechanical, it’s almost as if he’s still without a personality. Like his body’s on autopilot. Input: cold. Output: cry! Input: touch on palm. Output: close palm! Input: hear another baby crying. Output: cry!
I can only begin to imagine what the actual maternal instinct must feel like after spending 15 minutes with a newborn. In Mexico, giving birth is dar la luz –to give light. I couldn’t find a more fitting term if I tried.