Birthdays!

Waiting for a New Birthday

2 April, Kim Yoon-he's apartment, Seoul

It was several hours since Jeong-hyeok had called. Kim Yoon-he had sat with Han Jeong-yeon for a while, the two mothers anxious but excited, but now she had come back to her own apartment to rest. It was afternoon and one of the warmest days so far this spring, so she decided to sit outside on the balcony to enjoy it. She settled down, the mobile at her side in easy reach for when the call came.

She thought of Seri. Such a petite girl to be giving birth to twins. So hard. But she knew Seri well now. There was nothing that young woman couldn't do, and she knew she would be coping. Her Jeong-hyeok though! Yoon-he lay back on the lounger and closed her eyes in the sunshine. She smiled. Birth was when a man got to see just what his woman was capable of. The miracle of new life before his very eyes, while he waited helplessly. The power of a woman's body to nurture a child and endure the pain of childbirth. Jeong-hyeok would do what he could to help. She knew how attentive to Seri he would be, but he would hate seeing Seri in pain. Her beloved son, normally so strong; humbled and in awe.

Choong-ryeol had been like that when she gave birth to Mu, and she chuckled at the memory. He had kept fussing, trying to give her another cushion or pillow, as if that would make any difference! Eventually her mother had shooed him out, telling him if he wanted to help, he should come back with a doctor and some pain relief. And he had. She had always been able to rely on him. That moment when she had first held Mu in her arms had been so special, the tiny life that had grown within her all those months was now a living, breathing - and crying - baby boy. She had fallen in love immediately and Choong-ryeol, normally so taciturn, had knelt at her side staring in wonder at his son, murmuring thank you-s and love to her.

For a moment, a wave of sadness washed over, thinking how that young Yoon-he and Choong-ryeol would never have conceived that one day they would hold the body of their son in their arms. How they would cry for the opposite reason. Birth, life, death, they had seen the circle completed, too, too soon.

She shook herself. She shouldn't be so maudlin. Not today. She hoped Seri and the babies were alright. They would have the best medical care, she told herself. They were healthy and cared for. No reason to worry. But mothers and mothers-in-law would always worry at moments like this. They understood.

When Jeong-hyeok had been born, they had known what to expect. Delivery had been easier, her body already prepared. But nothing was taken away from that magical moment of holding him in her arms for the first time.

"This one. This one is special," her mother had said to her when she came to visit. A knowing look of satisfaction and pride. She had never elaborated what she meant, but when Jeong-hyeok showed such promise on the piano, she always thought back to that moment. Maybe she would have such a flash of enlightenment about the twins too!

The twins. Girls? Boys? One of each? Identical or not? Seri and Jeong-hyeok knew, but they said they were keeping it as a surprise. They had decorated the nursery beautifully in lemon and white, outfits waiting in a range of soft colours. But she was sure she had spied a soft pink blanket. Perhaps one baby would be a girl. A granddaughter. Most of all, she hoped the babies would be healthy, but she couldn't help hoping one would be a girl. She and Jeong-yeon had visited the children's clothes sections at the department store, cooing over the pretty outfits. It would be such fun to have a baby girl to shop for. She had brought up two boys, a little girl, maybe two, would be lovely.

She stood up and walked over to the plants at the edge of the balcony. Idly, she picked off a few dead leaves. There was a miniature cherry tree Seri had bought her, its buds just beginning to burst into flower. She loved the cherry blossom season. Her garden in her Pyongyang home had several cherry trees; right now they would be bursting into colour, too. She wondered who lived there now. Her mind washed over her old home, a memory of the boys playing in the garden soon after they moved there, laughter and calls. The buzz of family life. All gone now. Maybe never to return.