Monday, April 19, 2010

During the past week my nephew was born. I already have two nieces and nephews through Joedy, but this was the first time one of my siblings had a child, and the experience I had of his birth was not much different from having my own kid. Okay, I didn't actually feel contractions or get offered drugs, but the emotions I encountered between hearing "it's starting" and "he's out" were erratic and intense, with the progression from excitement, irritation (what's he doing in there?), worry, and relief seeming either too fast or too slow, and--most tellingly--the Speculation Factor hovering dangerously close to High.

(Sitting at the kitchen table) Hm...I haven't heard anything in a while--I guess that means they're in the hospital. Hopefully there hasn't been a problem...would they call me if there was one? I don't know--maybe...Would I call them? Maybe, but that doesn't mean anything. Or does it? Does the fact that they haven't called mean there's a problem??

(Exiting the bathroom, zipping fly) Dammit! Of COURSE they called while I was in the bathroom! Shit...that message sounded weird. Like maybe something was wrong, but they couldn't say what, because if they did, it would seem like they thought something was really wrong. OF COURSE they don't want to think that way! Jesus! Shit! Why the hell did they call when I was in the bathroom? Especially now that there really might be a problem!

(On the kitchen floor, surrounded by bread crumbs) Oh god--thank god. Thank heaven. Thanks, heavenly ham sandwich--he's born. He's fine. Everything was fine, they said. He's sleeping, he's eating, he's crying, he's fine, and his name, his name is--what's his name? Wait, they didn't tell me his name? What...what the...what am I supposed to do, GUESS? Was I supposed to know or something? Oh wait--I do know. That's right--they told me a while back. Ok. It's fine. Everything's fine. I'm fine.

Not long after getting the last phone call, by which time I was in full relief mode, a little crying sesh came on, surprisingly, out of the blue, and for a few minutes all I could think was: "I am so relieved! He's OUT! I AM SO RELIEVED! He's OUT!!"

I was relieved. Probably not as relieved as his parents, but enough to see, suddenly, that aunthood would be serious a lot of the time, with--of course--a whole new bunch of hopes and worries attached. It will probably be serious a lot of the time, but not always, I hope: after all, someone needs to introduce him to butter eaten on top of cream cheese; a certain book or two; horses; and the diarrhea song. His parents are going to be plenty busy and will need help showing him the funner things in life, and few, after all, will want to do that more than his Tatou Zazou.


kmika said...

Great... Now I'm crying, Tatou Zazou... Great post. I know what you mean, aunthood is intense and good.
Bisous from sibling, his better half and (full of spit-up) nephew.

cpt haddock said...

I must say that after this last week the diarrhea song has taken on a whole new panoply of meaning....

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