I had a dream last night. We went in for our 20 week check-up and it turned out that the baby was ready to be delivered. Delivery wasn't as much part of the dream as was driving home and worrying that we were going to get pulled over because we passed about 45 cops on 8th North and didn't have our baby in a car seat. (What can I say? We weren't expecting her to come at 20 weeks.) I told my infant to "Get down! Put your head down!" as we drove through the swarm of flashing red and blue lights. And I remember thinking how annoyed I was that she was too big at birth to fit in her bassinet (which we strapped her into in lieu of a car seat).
Did I mention that my child was also African-American? And she could speak in full sentences?
We decided to stop for some food on the way home and she totally offended some woman at the restaurant. I gave her the eye and she just shrugged. After this I had a hard time loving this baby for multiple reasons. First, she didn't resemble me or anyone related to me and I found this really odd. (But not once did I wonder if they gave me the wrong baby). Also, she was totally obnoxious with her endless jabber (Think Stewie from Family Guy) and she only wanted to be held by ethnic people.
I woke up feeling so guilty that I didn't love my baby that I couldn't get back to sleep. Until I realized that I'm not black and that probably wasn't my baby anyway.
2 comments:
baha! (literally the sound i made while reading this)
when i was pregnant with lucy, jared would always ask, "what if our baby is black? i mean, how would we raise it culturally?" i still think he was only half kidding, but i have always loved that his primary concern was somewhat political instead of scientific or marital.
btw, in case you didn't get my text this morning - we will be around provo tomorrow afternoon/early evening and would love to grab some food if you guys are free. i know i'm super last minute, though...as always.
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