A Baker's Dozen of Christmas What-Ifs

With A Willing Hand

The Twelve Prompts of Christmas - Prompt #5

Choose a Christmas Carol—one that tells a story—then re-write it so it becomes a modern-day tale.

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I looked down at the tiny form. He looked so tiny, so fragile in the middle of the crib.

I was in wonder. I was in awe. A tiny human! My baby! My son.

My face flushed with emotion. My heart was singing softly.

Beside thy cradle, here I stand.

"Oh, Joey." I breathed, in reverent awe, "You are home."

I lay back again in our bed. I was sore all over, but especially downstairs. They don't tell you about that part of childbirth. To think that only 48 hours ago, I had been rushing to grab bags and leave for the hospital.

"Now? Deb, is he coming?"

"Yes. ... Oh! ... the contractions are less than three minutes, and they seem to be doubling up in waves."

"Okay. Fuck the doctor. What does he know, anyway. We're leaving now."

The pain was off the charts. Literally. The nurse told me that in her 15 years in the maternity ward she had never seen such intense contractions. Once they taped the measuring device on me, the sharp mountains indicating the ebb and flow of contractions literally ran off the chart. The pain never really came to rest before it would start again. And they were coming in double, or even triple waves, getting stronger and stronger.

After twenty minutes, the nurse called for the doctor.

He said I wasn't dilated enough, but he'd break the water for me if it didn't change in an hour. An hour?!! I don't think I can survive this kind of pain for that long!

I eventually let them put a mild anesthetic in my IV, but it only kept me from feeling the onset of a contraction. As soon as it crossed the threshold, I felt the full impact. But I refused to scream. I could feel this person inside me, feeling, hearing, and absorbing all that was going on.

I practiced all the breathing techniques they give you in Lamaze class. Eyes fixed on a really bad landscape painting hung just to the left of the nurse's head. Every time another wave of pain would start, I chanted a Beatles tune in my head. Every sharp blow of breath was another beat of the drum. I seem to have blocked from memory just what tune that was. Can you blame me? I mean, it's the Beatles! Who wants to ruin one of those songs?

Lou held my hand throughout. He tried to ask me something, but I just babbled the next line in the song with exclamation points!! and kept blowing.

An hour later, the doctor returned. As soon as he broke the water, I could feel my baby moving down. What a relief! They gave me permission to start pushing.

Only four hours of labor all-tolled, but I suspect it could have been less if I weren't a toughened dancer/athlete. It seems my insides were like leather! (Gross, I know, but black humor is sometimes all you've got when the pain is that intense.)

As soon as they laid him on my chest, tiny, fidgety, wrinkled, and suckling on his own wrist, my heart burst with joy. And recognition! Oh, I have known you a long time, haven't I, old soul. Welcome back to the world.

Oh, thou that ever livest!

My world turned on a new axis. Nothing would ever be the same. I had this tiny friend, this tiny lover, this tiny miracle to take care of. I would give him anything. Everything.

And give thee with a willing hand.

He had given my life a new purpose. All my other purposes paled in comparison. I would make sure this little person knew, without question, that he was loved, would always be loved, and could never be without that love.

The very gifts thou givest.

I could only hope and pray that I could be a mother he would speak of with pride. Someone he would enjoy having in his life.

My mom was like a saint, a friend, and a role-model. She weathered storms and endured pains I could not even imagine, in order to give me and my siblings long days of peace and happiness, and infinite fond memories.

Doesn't my Joey deserve that, and more?

Accept me, 'tis my mind and heart,

my soul, my strength, my every part,

that thou from me requirest.

December 23rd he came into the world.

And we were home for Christmas.

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Happy Birthday, Joey!!!

love,

your Mom