March 26, 2004 In the Room

My friend just asked me to be in the room when her baby is born to take pictures. (Not of her cooter, but of right after the baby is born.) She doesn't want to pick a family member because then others would get mad that it was not them and she thinks they would wig out too much emotionally to do the job, as her sister did at her public proposal when she started wiping away her tears so vigorously that she videotaped the floor instead of the happy couple. I burst into tears when she asked me. I am SUCH a geek. But I am excited. I hope it's a time when I can go. (I can't miss work next week, so hopefully it will be this weekend -- she's due Sunday, and her contractions are 90 minutes apart right now. I have no idea how fast these things progress, obviously.) I know this sounds really horrifying on one level, but I'm just not horrified. I know I should be grossed out by this, as I realize that birth is a bloody mess, but I'm not for some reason. The first thing I thought of when I hung up with her was "I Was There in the Room," the last piece in The Vagina Monologues. It's really beautiful. I mean, it's about a vagina, but it's about more than that, too. Just being in the room when something like that happens, when a new person takes her first breath. That's pretty fucking monumental. Hopefully my friend and I will not get into a fight and scream at each other or throw frozen drinks on each other, but since neither of us (hopefully) will be drunk, that probably won't happen. Sometimes this friend drives me insane, but I guess when you've been friends with someone for a long damn time, that's just inevitable. (I'm sure it's been no picnic dealing with me for the past 12 years.) I have to say that the good times have outweighed the bad, and that she's held my hair back when I've puked, lit sparklers with me, gone fishing with me, and forgiven me with the best of them. So, yeah. It should skeeve me out to think of being present when one of my oldest friends bursts forth with child. But for some reason, it doesn't. I am just excited and happy and frankly touched on a flabbergasting level to even be invited to this weird, surreal scene. The thought of being in the actual room as someone dies and then less than a year later being in the actual room when someone is born is a little too much to fathom. I'm overcome just thinking about it, actually. I just sincerely hope I don't pass out and drop their very expensive digital camera into the big bowl of placenta. ::: About this time in ... 2003: 3/26 (#2): it was without a doubt the most heinous conversation we have ever had and i told him he could forget about getting his stuff because i never want him coming to my house again but finally we set a time on saturday at 10 am for him to come get it and i am going to ask someone help me move it onto the carport before he gets there because i don't want him setting foot in my house. he said he would like to at least get his bed and i sad, "oh, i'll bet you would." 3/26 (#1): It was four weeks ago that this all started. 2000: I was troubled by the exposed bare ribs of Faith Hill and went off on the topic of blasphemy for several minutes after she attempted to sing "Over the Rainbow." get notified. journal archives © Copyright 2004 elb