So I've been home maybe a day when this stranger shows up with a space suit. He shows my mom how it should fit. Secretly, I was hoping they'd dress me in something blue, but I wasn't expecting this.
I thought the orange glow to my skin was attractive. I heard comments about my beautiful olive complexion. But when it started creeping down my legs, and shining through the whites of my eyes, the lights came on. It wasn't my complexion at all. It was Jaundice.
I've been real good so far, but this just doesn't seem fair. They place some neon-space paddle on my bare chest, and lie me out on the cold hard plastic surface that glows in the dark.
I hear this guy tell my mom that I am not to be removed from the apparatus except for feedings. I think that's where I learned that if I eat, I get to snuggle. I've been eating ever since.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Will you look at me now? They can't keep their hands off. I am the cutest one in the whole nursery. I can't really tell because we are all wrapped up in these tight papoose blanket configurations. We all have the exact same blanket folded in the exact same way. Our hats are identical and there is no variation among our portable cribs. For me it would be hard to say who is cutest. It doesn't seem than hard for my parents.
Posted by Linnea Belnap at 10:19 PM
Where There’s A Will
You should probably hear another perspective on the way things happen around here.
There is this song being hummed around the house,
“A child arrived just the other day. He came to the world in the usual way....”
The usual way? What is the usual way? Because when I arrived it didn’t seem all that “usual” to me.
As it happened, I wasn’t quite ready to come. If it weren’t for my parents marching up the BYU bleachers on that hot 4th of July evening, I might have just stayed put for a while longer. There were fighter jets flying right over my head, and some crazy loud music they call “country” blaring through that impenetrable cocoon I was swimming around in. The fireworks were so bright and hot and loud it was almost like I was right there. (Wait, I was) I really should have waited on account of my dad was so excited to go to the big parade the next morning. He wanted to get up early and watch the hot air balloons. I don’t think it was entirely my fault that he missed the parade. If those loud booming noises hadn’t startled my mom so much, maybe I wouldn’t have kicked so hard, and then maybe that nice warm water I was swimming around in wouldn’t have started disappearing like it did. I did my best to arrange it so my dad could still watch the balloons as they floated right by our hospital room. That was the best I could do.
I’m still not sure why everyone panicked so and rushed to the hospital. I had a lot of work to do in order to arrive “in the usual way.”
Is it usual to have every bone in your head fold over each other until your brain hurts, and you’re afraid your eyes are going to pop out? I submit to you that it is not.
Is it usual to have some unexplainable force pushing you from behind every other minute, shoving you towards this impossibly narrowing tunnel? I don’t think so.
And then, just when I think I’ve turned the corner and can see daylight I am sorely mistaken. The light I saw was actually the shine off of the biggest metal salad tongs I’ve every seen, coming right toward me, and then they clamp on either side of my face as though I were a head of lettuce! Now, instead of being pushed out of my comfortable home, I am being pulled by my head into a mess of lights,noises and pain. I can’t see anything, but I feel my mom and Dad put their hands on me and I think it’s going to be okay. That lasted a total of 1.4 seconds when I was whisked away and practically thrown onto this cold metal table. My arms and legs shoot out in every direction. Someone squirts a thick gunky substance in my eyes, sticks a needle in my thigh, slaps something around my wrist and ankle, and shoves this hat over my aching head. Then finally, I find myself next to that rhythmic beating of my mom’s heart.
So, instead, let’s say, “where there’s a way....there’s a Will.” But let’s not call it “usual”.
Take a look at my head and you decide.
Posted by Linnea Belnap at 4:52 PM