Mami Wata (Arthur Curry)

The Baby Whisperer

"Waaaaa," the baby cried as he slipped from his mother's womb and out of her cervix. The physician at the helm of the woman's spread legs smiled in delight as she witnessed, yet again, the birth of a miracle.

"It's a healthy baby boy! Congratulations Bethany!" Dr. Hudson exclaimed as she and her nurses swiftly took the crying baby to the sterilized table in order to clean up and suction the infant of any fluids. The mother shed a few tears in victory as her husband sighed in relief; he could now let go of his wife's deathly grip.

"You did great, Beth. I'm super proud of you," Dr. Hudson continued to praise the new mother, finally wrapping the cleaned baby in his new blanket so that Dr. Hudson could deliver him to his mother's open arms.

Once settled in, the boy's wrinkled eyes peeped opened a bit to reveal crystal blue orbs. He took one look at his mother's awed face and he cracked a loop-sided, toothless grin at her. Bethany cooed at her new life-line, as did her husband right beside her. They stared at the new edition of their family and swelled with happiness.

"His name is Christopher. Christopher Kempler Jr. My Chrissy-poo," Bethany gushed and spoke child-like to her son.

"He won't like being called Chrissy-poo when he hits high school, Beth," Beth's husband said alongside her in a light chuckle.

"It won't matter because I'll still call him that," She scrunched her nose at him and continued to marvel over her perfect, porcelain son. Dr. Hudson just stood above them in admiration of the complete family in front of her. Once again, she was able to safely bring another life to this world and another person into a parents' life. It always felt good; it felt like magic all over again.

"He'll have the best parents out here. He'll grow to love being called Chrissy-poo," Dr. Hudson winked and grabbed Bethany's patient chart.

"I'll come back with the birth certificate paperwork. My nurses will assist you in breastfeeding, Christopher, and getting him some comfortable mittens for those tiny feet. Then we can discuss your discharge. Congratulations again Mr. and Mrs. Kempler," Dr. Hudson spoke softly, trying to not interrupt the family's happy moment. She wanted to exit and leave them to their privacy.

"Dr. Hudson, we can't thank you enough for these past 9 months. We owe you so much. From the first miscarriage, the fertility treatments, to this. You've completed our lives. How can we ever repay you," Bethany started to tear up again and sobbed uncontrollably.

"Sssh," Dr. Hudson consoled her, "You can owe me by loving and caring for this here Chrissy-poo. Make sure he's given the best life possible. When he graduates, all I ask is for an invitation," She winked at the end and pulled out something from the pockets of her scrub pants.

"And if he ever needs me, let him shake this," Dr. Hudson revealed a hand-made gourd rattle. It was painted with blue and white waves of the sea and small enough for the infant's hands, "Around town they say that when the baby shakes it, I'll come a-calling for a check-up appointment. Or you can just call me, whichever comes first," Dr. Hudson giggled at the silly ode that circulated around the town's mothers about her.

All Bethany could do was take the painted rattle in gratitude and held it close to her baby. She mouthed 'thank you' and she saw her baby doze off to sleep. Dr. Hudson mouthed 'no problem' and finally left the room to get the paperwork she promised.

Out of the patient's room, she was placed onto the surgical floor. She went to the nurse's station to order a birth certificate. She slid off her surgical cap and stuffed it in the pocket of her purple scrubs.

Dr. Yasmin Hudson's feet were killing her in her clogs that she had been walking in for the past 12 hours. It was almost time for her to be off-call. She still had to visit two more patients in the ER for a follow-up consultation. One mother spoke Spanish while the other mother spoke only Portuguese. Yasmin was the only doctor in the entire hospital that spoke those two languages fluently, without the need of a translator.