What Is Life?
It starts with a call in the middle of the night.
I reach for the phone dazed, still asleep, wondering why my feet are hot but my hands are freezing. Matthew turns and moves unaware of my whispered responses and Cindy saying calmly “It’s time.”
Teeth are brushed, books are packed, telephone charger is smashed into an already full purse as I hit the freeway at 3:48 am on Sunday, January 4th. I turn the air-conditioning on and blast music as loud as possible to stave off the overwhelming urge to sleep. I wonder what she is doing at this exact moment as I pass freeway exits and billboards advertising online poker.
Cindy. My cousin. Four months younger than me and creating life. I remember her fear of the flying monkeys from the Wizard of Oz. I can see us turning cart-wheels on her balance beam at nine thinking that a fall from less than three feet was more terrifying than falling from grace. Teenage years filled with nights at the Top of The World in Laguna Beach, sipping on Malibu and chain-smoking. I bit my nails, she chewed on her cuticles. I swore I would move to Europe and write epic novels. She vowed to capture her life with photographs.
The hospital smelled of cleanser and warm milk. Florescent lights reminiscent of high school class rooms provide just enough rays to keep you awake. My aunt paces, my cousin John sleeps on hospital chairs, my uncle sleeps. Waiting for a baby is introspective and surreal. There are endless clocks in maternity waiting rooms. They sound like someone clipping nails. Mothers in labor come in crying or laughing or trying to figure out how to sit in a wheelchair comfortably. New fathers pace, make phone calls, repeat things to themselves as if willing their spouses/loved ones strength. Everytime a baby cries a waiting room gets its cheers.
I never realized how much a human cares about ounces until it is announced. Time stops when loved ones give you the exact moment of birth. You ask if the baby has hair, if the baby looks like anyone, more importantly how are the baby and mother doing.
What is life? Life is watching your beautiful cousin, breathe through contractions, asking YOU if you are okay. Did you get something to eat? Have you seen the view? Life is watching her reach for Dean and his handing finding hers amidst a sea of I.V. wires and monitors. Life is nearly 20 hours of labor. The smell of blood and iron and salt. The literal push towards the finish line. The baby’s first breath amongst the chaos in the room. The way you can’t stop crying long enough to smile - tears of joy will always win.
Life is 6lbs, 5 oz, 8:18 pm on January 5th, 2008.
Welcome RDT.
