My Little Golden Book of Phobias

Today it is that day, that awful day.

And we had a birth, a lovely birth with a gorgeous Brazilian mother and her goofus husband. She labored so quietly I wasn't sure she was doing anything except that with her third baby, she should know. And indeed she did. With contractions, she would make a little face, barely noticeable. She asked that we not 'stare' at her because she was shy. So we didn't. We moved over to the other side of the room. I closed the blinds. We whispered. She was so quiet. Her husband put on some latin jazz. When she had pushed in the tub for a while, I suggested that she try the birth stool. With two pushes, she had her daughter.

She had blue painted finger and toenails. She was wearing blue and white beaded bracelets. After the birth, she put on a brilliantly colored dress and wound her hair and fastened it with a shiny clip.

We helped them get ready to go home. She wanted her own bed. With the baby tucked into the car seat, off they went in the late afternoon.

While NYC mourns and remembers, as we all do, in Seattle there is a wee babe named Clementine with her mother's eyes and her father's mouth.

Sweet dreams, dear families.

Everywhere.