Monday, September 12, 2011

How My Mom Told Me Where Babies Come From

                When I was seven years old and in the first grade, my mother gave birth to my little sister.  Here’s my problem with that:  I do not remember my mother being pregnant.  There was never the sit down where she said, “You might have a little brother or sister!”  I also had no knowledge of reproduction.  I never had that defining moment in childhood where I asked my parents: “Where do babies come from?” My mom never had to tell the stork story.  Or the cabbage patch lie.  Or stammer through a half assed truth about marital relations (When a mommy and a daddy love each other…).  I feel like she missed out on a defining moment of parenting.  But she totally made up for it at the hospital. I thought I had an Ivy League degree in reproduction at 7 years old!  Let me start at the beginning:
                As I stated before, I had no idea my mom was pregnant.  I don’t remember my mom looking any different from the way she does today.  I remember that my paternal grandmother (Grandma) woke me up for school one morning.  When I asked where my mom was, Grandma replied that she had to go to the hospital the night before.  I was confused, but not worried; mostly because my mom is a trooper.  Thanks mom, great way to leave your 7 year old sleeping at home alone.  Though, in her defense, they probably woke me up and I had no idea.  I sleep like a motherfucking brick.  I went to school as usual, experienced an almost regular school day and Grandma picked me up afterwards.  Now I went to a private Catholic school.  Not to be content with having me tortured by nuns, my mother was also the school’s secretary.  So I had to have A LOT of “act right” in me.  All of the teachers kept asking me if I was excited to have a little brother or sister.  I looked at them like they had just grown a horn and fucking extra eye.  In fact, they could have been speaking backwards Japanese pig Latin with a stutter.  That’s how much I understood what the hell was going on.  Hence, it was an *almost* regular school day.
                Cut to the hospital.  I go in and my mom is laid up in the hospital bed.  And there is a baby in one of those weird plastic baby holder carts. 

The conversation went down like this:
Me:  “Mom, where did she come from?”
Mom:  “Uh.  Well, they brought them in here one by one and I picked the quietest one.  All the rest were screaming and crying.”


Me:  “But…I wanted a brother!”
Mom:  “Well, they only had one boy.  And a nice black couple down the hall had already picked him.”
Me:  “This one is all wrinkly and red.  I don’t want a red sister!”
Mom:  “That will go away.”
Me:  “OH MY GOD! She has a black crusty belly button!”
Mom:  “It will fall off!”
Me:  “What?!?!”
Mom:  “That’s how you tell that they’re new…and uh, fresh…”
Me:  “Get an older one!”
Mom:  “We can’t!  Your dad already paid for that one!”

Me:  “Keep the receipt.  This one might be broken.  We might have to return it.”
                I think my dad and my Grandma almost pissed themselves at the explanation my mother gave me.  But it worked.  Like most of the parental explanations I received during my formative years, I never questioned it.  My parents wouldn’t lie to me!  (We have yet to speak about why Santa Claus has not paid me a visit in the last 13 years…jolly fat bastard owes me some damn presents!)
My mom had me convinced until I was 10 years old that you bought babies at the hospital.  No wonder my teachers thought I was retarded.  I’m 27 years old now.  My sister is 20.  I still want my parents to get a refund.

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