Baby Burrito Baby

28 Jan

I was pregnant in January. My belly felt heavy and hard to the touch, like I had eaten too big of a burrito. What I knew was that I was having a boy and my only concern was that he not be a Pisces, like my brother. I wanted an Aquarius baby. Someone aloof who didn’t cry or feel things so intensely. Someone mature who would get over it quickly. Someone not like me.

My due date was soon, but labor felt far away. I went to the hospital in hopes of being induced. It was still January, so by the calendar I had time. But time, as time tends to do, was slipping through the holes of my Swiss cheese life. A doctor told me there was nothing they could do. I would have to wait until the baby was ready to come. So I took the matter to google.

How to induce birth naturally. One site, the only one I looked at, told me to rub slippery elm on the soles of my feet. Slippery elm is, of course, slippery, mucilaginous. Feet are on the ground, down, at the bottom, the direction a baby has to go. I mixed powdered slippery elm with a few drops of water to make a paste. I rubbed it on my feet and belly. I waited.

I waited. And I waited. Nothing happened. What I felt was constipated. I was constipated. Come to think of it, I had not crapped in a few days. And I had, in fact, eaten a big cactus and bean burrito recently. Again, something occurred to me. I was not pregnant with a baby. I was pregnant with conflict – and food – and I wanted the conflict out of my body, out into the calm, cool, quiet Aquarius air.


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