The Other Mother: A Lesbian's Fight for Her Daughter

Amelia

Amelia I've often thought that one day I would laugh and tell you that you were born a virgin birth on Virgin Mary's birthday. It's true. Both parts. You were conceived with no man present. And the woman who cut my hair the day you were born confirmed the part about the birthday. As it turns out, you, Mary, and the hairdresser all share the same one. Stripped down to thesefacts, your birth is afairy tale in which you are the enchanted one. A new nativity play, in which Norma is Mary, and I amJoseph, Josephine perhaps, orjust plain]o. It wasn't quite a manger where you were born. The hospital had a birthing room with all ofthe socalled comforts ofhome. I think it was the rocking chair no one sat in that the hospital brochures alluded to when they touted the virtues ofthe cozy room. Norma said it best: "We could have been in the middle ofa fourlane highway for all it mattered. "She was right. We were bracedfor and focused on one event only: squeezing you into our lives. I have to admit, I couldn't imagine that our antics, Norma's and mine, could really produce something as serious as a baby. Maybe thefact that I didn't believe accountsfor why you didn't stick to my life. Perhaps there is truly somefairy dust released by the act ofbelieving, and without it, well, you know what happened. You have to dream to have dreams come true. I After threatening to arrive prematurely, Amelia was born nearly two weeks after Norma's due date. I slept through the first contractions . Then, sometime around midnight, Norma woke me to update me on her progress, and we both went back to sleep. In the morning she was still feeling the gripping sensations, dull and painless. Mter one false labor, and countless tugs and pains that Norma mistook for contractions, we had grown so used to trips to 83 84 Amelia the hospital and phone calls with midwives that I think we were beginning to believe pregnancy was a permanent state of being. It was easy to forget that there was really a baby coming, and not just more false promises. We decided to go to Norma's acupuncturist, who had offered to give Norma a special treatment when the baby was on its way to make her labor go smoothly. After that we decided to go shopping and get haircuts. "I want to look good for the baby," I said, only halfjoking. We walked to Harvard Square to do our shopping, unconcerned about spending money on things we didn't really need, despite the fact that my unemployment checks only went so far. We were also acting quite blase about Norma's condition, despite the fact that now and then she'd pause to hold her belly and assess the strength of the contractions. I bought a pair of low brown leather boots. Norma bought a pair of sandals at an end-of-summer sale. By the time we got to the hair salon, Norma was having to sit down on occasion and wait out a contraction. Neither of us suggested going home, though; we were having a great day. At the hairdresser's, after our shampoos, we were each led to neighboring chairs facing mirrors. "How do you feel?" I asked, as a young woman who must have been just out of beauty school combed my long, wet hair. "Pretty good, but they're getting stronger," Norma said, still smiling into the mirror. The man who held scissors poised above her head had a puzzled expression on his face. "She's in labor," I said, and Norma and I both laughed. Looking back on the day we waited for our baby to be born, all I can see is the lightness. Even the walk home from the hairdresser , during which Norma collapsed against the sides ofbuildings we passed by, was always funny when we retold it. She made it up the flight ofstairs to our second-floor apartment one step at a time, with me coaxing her along. But I also remember that I was feeling guilty by the time I settled her onto our bed. I should have taken her condition a little more seriously, I thought. With so much time to prepare we should have been ready. The bags should have been packed. I should have known what was coming. Soon we would...