I had a dream the other day. I was well into my ninth month of pregnancy and still working full-time as an organizer for some miscellaneous social justice campaign. Billy and I both worked at this organization; we were partners (in the queer sense). She has built the tub in which I was to have the baby, her mom, Celeste, staying with us as my midwife. At a demonstration rally, I was leading the charge, bullhorn in hand. Next thing I know my water has broke, Billy comes to my side making sure I stay upright. I yell to my next in command, bark, "Take it from here! Keep this moving!" Other help Billy get me into the car so that we may get home for the birth. Next thing I know I am in the tub, Celeste coaching, finally coaxing the baby out. The baby is out, floating, next the placenta. I relax momentarily cooing over the baby, everyone titters at the sight of the newly birthed baby. I feel pressure, more birth pains. Celeste looks at me in concern, taking care. I tell her I think she better look/feel around down there. 'But...' She does. Not sure if she says 'oh' or 'oh my'. Next thing we all know it is baby number two. I'm not sure which came first the male or the female but there are now two. Floating, beautiful. Billy is all too happy. I am happy. Much too happy to wake up but I did.
Penned by Jovan at Tuesday, June 26, 2007