Arrivals

We are fully settled here. There have been moments such as now, when my son settles gently into sleep, when I've lately been thinking of the night before my son was born. I called the doctor at 3 a.m., who let me know I could either come in right away or wait until 7:30 a.m. if I wanted to. Unlike in the movies, with its portrayal of water-breaking announcements followed by dramatic painful contractions, his arrival was a subtle and easy one.

I opted for the morning arrival at the hospital, as it seemed that it would be slow going. So I took a nice long shower, braided my hair, and wrote up some detailed substitute lesson plans for the next day, which was to be a Friday. As the sun began to rise I went down to my car and drove to the parking lot two blocks away from the hospital where I was to give birth. At the parking lot, I removed myself, then my two duffel bags from the car, and hoisted the latter over my shoulder. I must have been a sight, in my long black coat, like some gravid matronly sandman, with bags of sleep dust over her shoulder. A nice young doctor asked me if I needed help. "I'm fine!" I chirped, as we were just across the street from my destination.

I walked in the lobby, checked in, asked for a towel to sit on, and waited to be admitted. I was humming with anticipation, excited to meet my little son.

That walk from my car to the hospital was short and uneventful - no huffing and puffing, and the two pillows and assorted clothes and books I'd brought were no big thing to tote. But for some reason, whenever I drive through these woods, as we both gaze out at trees revealing splashes of fiery red, I think of that walk I first took with my boy on his way and I burn with intense love for the things I have done.

We walk everywhere together now - he doesn't care for riding in the stroller, so he hops out of the car with his fingertips on my palms when we arrive somewhere, and we stride, hand in hand, towards doors and home. "Go, go, go?" my son asks.

"Here we go," I reply; happy, brave, and free.