Today is the 25th anniversary of my third child’s birth. A girl. Not one for all the poking and prodding of pregnancy tests, I named this baby before she came earthside and it’s a good thing she’s a girl, because she has a very girly name. Our adventures in child naming are in the realm of a MLB playoff game. I really was wanting something simple and we had already tapped the grandfathers to name baby #1. Baby #2’s name got snatched up by inlaws 2 months before he was born, so we did an eenie, meenie, miney, mo….but what’s in a name, right?
Living in the desert southwest brings special challenges to a pregnant mama. Most of them are physical. I had a great GP as my health care provider. I had been in to see her and was having contractions. She didn’t want the baby born in her office, so we agreed to meet at this tiny hospital nearby. Things like this tend to go quickly and easily for me and true to that, we were home in a few hours, baby in arms.
My mom had come up to help. Truth is, I don’t thinks she really wanted to help. My house was not air conditioned and we were all experiencing communication issues. Mom’s first language was not English and under stressful situations, the misinterpretations and innuendos are the first to fly.
This baby had lots of black hair. She must have looked a lot like I did. Little Asian babies have hair that stands up like a Chia pet. This little one is a quapa. She is one quarter Japanese. She was the first girl. She was the first to wear prefolded cloth diapers. (This is huge, the 2 babies previous left me rinsing, washing, hanging and folding in the amount of time that I could have achieved a Masters degree in. ) Mom spend the better part of the afternoon instructing me on the dangers of leaving the stomach uncovered. She would lay a cloth diaper across her naked belly. Did I mention we had no air conditioning? Today (in the present) it is 113 degrees. That day (25 years ago) was probably about the same. I would take the cloth off. It really upset mom. I saw the effort as goofy. It was right up there with the instructions to not lift my hands over my head while pregnant, as the baby would get strangled. We ended up staring at this baby on the bed and mom told me about how when I was born, I was presented to her in a pink towel. Mom asked the midwife if my birth mother would like to see me. She said no. See what happened there? My refusal to accept the cloth on the baby’s belly resulted in a very short story of my rejection.
So, then we were even. This baby learned to walk at Mom’s. And I have included a picture of mom carrying her. This is the only baby she carried, the Japanese way.