Typically when I hear the phrase “Something New”, I think of interracial couples and the angst they face a-la Sanaa Lathan and that very yummy blonde guy whose name always escapes me. But as of last week, the phrase “something new” means something completely different. It means the birth of a new child. Yes, I will bring a new brown baby into the world in the new decade.
Now before you all break out the celebratory confetti and congratulatory champagne, I must tell you I just had a baby 5 minutes ago; May 29th 2009 to be precise. It was a blessed event and one that I was looking forward to repeating in 4 years, not four months, which is when my new child was conceived. My newest loin fruit will make his/her debut somewhere between July 6 – 8th of this year. No one knows for sure, because the whole thing is still a mystery: The conception date, the mechanics (well, not so much the mechanics. I know how it happened, I just don’t know how it happened), the actual delivery date.
I have already endured surprised looks and a good scolding from an elderly health aid professional by the name of Astrid. Astrid (whom I’d never met prior to the meeting we’d had to confirm my pregnancy) told me very matter-of-factly that I was putting my life in danger and could die on the delivery table. Why was I putting my life at risk she asked? I endured her tirade for a full 20 minutes. After all, I was recently unemployed and in a position of need, sitting there in a dreary government office looking to suckle off the government’s Medicaid teat. Had I not been secure in my numerous accomplishments including a tertiary education, I might have felt like the low life ghetto guttersnipe she assumed me to be. I endured the diatribe for as long as I could before I asked her what she would have me do? Have an abortion?
“Don’t you worry Ms. Astrid,” I assured her. “I’ll be getting my tubes tide after this delivery and you won’t have to worry about another Black baby being brought into this world.”
Her eyes widened. In a flurry of sentences, she assured me that that’s not what she meant at all.
“I just want you to be safe,” she said.
So there you have it folks! Something New. Apparently, folks don’t conceive babies within four months of delivering another. It’s not en vogue and SO 19th century. I just wish someone had sent me the bloody memo!
On the other hand, I could stand and accept your applause for making what was old new again. Yay for my new baby.
This post is an entry for the My Brown Baby writing contest at http://mybrownbaby.blogspot.com/search/label/Taste. For all my writing friends, feel free to join in the fun! There are fabulous prizes at stake.