October 17 1969
By Nancy Slonim Aronie
On my way home from my gynecologist’s appointment where he told me I was having a girl the next day I drove home smiling. “You get to Mount Sinai,” he said, “at five AM. I’ll have that baby out by seven and I’ll be on the links by eight.” I had just enough time to make a hair appointment to have my curls blown out and look great in the hospital bed when people came to see me. Me. Not the baby. Me.
I was annoyed that the streets were clogged because of some sort of demonstration against the Viet Nam war. I sat in bumper to bumper traffic thinking, Jeez, I should have taken Farmington avenue.
I hadn’t given any thought to my future or anyone else's for that matter. I knew I wanted wall-to-wall Berber carpeting in the living room and white shag in the dining room. I knew I wanted Dansk furniture and framed Marimekko on the walls. I knew I would settle for nothing less than Zabar's creamed herring. Vita Herring, the stuff in the jars at Waldbaum's would never grace my hand hewn teak shelves.
I knew I wanted my baby to have my father’s side of the family’s skin tone. My Mother’s was pale white and the baby would burn at the beach and being tan was top of my list. It never occurred to me to pray or wonder or hope for a healthy baby. That was, I thought, a given.
He was wrong; it was Josh, I drove home smiling. A girl. Pink. Lace. Tiny. I had been the polar opposite of tiny and pink and lace. Jessica. Baby Jessica.
Oh, boys and girls this really scares me but also makes me realize that we REALLY CAN CHANGE. This is who I actually was. Then. Oy!!! Now write yours. Remember to comment on each other's pieces and tell them what you loved!
Prompt: Write about a fundamental change in who you were and who you are now.