skit #64: your midwife

The mother ejects you into the world. You arrive upon a regal carpet, red and placental, dressed in a custom-tailored gown of natal finery. The doctor delivering you wears a hygienic paper mask, a pathological and emotional contraceptive. Despite your attempts to distinguish yourself, her eyebrows convey only indifference with a jaded evenness. Your grand entrance of blood and mucus does not make her fawn nor flinch. The mother does not even bother to wake. You suspect your birth will be reflected in a census somewhere.

It is when the doctor leaves and the mother sleeps that your midwife takes you.

When cradled in your midwife's hands, you are so utterly precious to her. Her resplendent warmth permeates her industry-standard latex membrane. She removes her gloves and holds you with real hands of flesh and fat. You are the little girl daddy always wanted. You are the sole heir of a dying patriarch. You are the first panda bred in captivity. She places you in the mother's arms, where you sleep in motionlessly blissful fatigue. Then she leaves.

The mother-in-your-bed inspects you suspiciously, jarring you awake. She searches in your eyes for the rhyme of your riddle. She does not know you are simple and intuitive, devoid of mystery. By her brutish manhandling, you ascertain she must be a butcher or a mechanic. You want only for her to leave you alone. You miss your midwife.

Through hermetically sealed glass, you see your midwife fondling another baby. Cradled in her hands writhes a bounty of animated amethyst, and her face smiles upon that child so utterly precious to her. Your midwife shamelessly smiles upon seven other babies as you watch during your stay. Each day, your midwife plays concierge to the perpetual influx of guests.

You refuse to acknowledge the certain thousands she smiled upon preceding and succeeding you. Your midwife is not yours alone. The smile imprinted on your id is generic.

You age. You no longer remember how your midwife smiled upon you at your birth. Nor does the electrician remember how your midwife smiled upon him at his birth. Nor do you remember each other as neighbors through the hermetically sealed glass. He repairs your refrigerator, delivers your bill, and offers no discount.