I am Earth, Stars, Sky, Water, Sand and Fire. I am Holden

I’ve just arrived.

Pink, streaked with blood, I bellow at the top of my lungs.  My voice scares me.  

Three nurses sweep me away like I’m the new catch of fish they just pulled up, in the net, from the side of their fishing boat.

My shoulders are seemingly so broad one scapula broke during my exit from the hell-canal.  I can’t feel a thing from the break, I’m just famished.  But I DO feel the thing they just shoved up both my nostrils.  Man! That hurts!  And if they scrape the bottom of my feet another time I won’t be responsible for the level of scream I think I can produce.

Dr. Koby-Olson (I guess she’s my doctor), puts an end to all the clamor, scoops me up and places me in my father’s arms, after explaining what took so long to get me to my parents.  The Apgar score was very low—my shoulder. 

He feels strong, comfortable and sure of himself.  He’s nothing like all these rushing bodies hopping around in this birthing room.   

My dad looks at me like I’ve just fallen, like a perfect star in the solar system, right into his arms.   The way he touches my fingers.  The gentle kisses on my forehead, hands and feet.  The way he stops time and stops everyone around him.  

“Don’t rush me,” he firmly tells anyone, who approaches us at bedside.  He smiles and reassures my mom I’m going to be fine.  I feel soaked up by him, like he’s a big oak tree and his roots are sucking in the water after a summer rain.  

For the first time since I was pushed into this strange world I feel like it’s all about me.  I am the earth, the stars and sky.  I am the water, fire and sand.  I am his child.

He slowly bends over by my mother and places me on her warm naked skin.  I see my mother’s face.  Her tears run into her smile as she looks at me.  I stop crying and listen to her heartbeat.  

As she kisses me I feel the wetness of her tears. She tightens her grip on me.  Not the father-grip I recently felt, but a hammock kind of grip.  A free-flowing separate but joined kind of grip.

I have no desire to cry out.  I’m smelling my mother.  She sits up straighter in the big, white bed, with the help of my father.  She seems to know I’m hungry because she puts my now quiet lips up to her left breast.  I can hear her heartbeat stronger here.  I smell my milk.  Thirst and hunger from this long journey keep me from falling asleep.  I suck at my mother’s nipple even though I know there won’t be any milk just yet.  

I enjoyed my first sleep.  All I remember is my mother carefully re-wrapping me in the soft, cotton blanket, ending any movement of my arms.  She's holding me and laughing quietly.  

I hear the quiet sound of my father and mother talking, kissing, hugging.  Their intimate breaths envelope me.  I attend to the sound of her heartbeat.  I’m back inside her, encircled by the pool of warm, flowing liquid.

Loud voices shatter my rest.   I’m scooped up away from my mother.  I guess I’m not as safe as I thought I was.

A nurse shuffle-fusses with me,  like I’m her new puppy, not a human.   I wish she’d pay more attention to who I am.   Especially since I obviously can’t communicate very effectively, yet.  I bawl at the top of my lungs which doesn’t seem to get me very far.  

Does she really think it’s sweet or cute or normal when I’m screaming bloody murder? She keeps repeating the same tugs, pulls and scrapes on my body.  All these people make me nervous. 

The doctor I kicked is back.  What does she want my parents to do with that piece of paper?

“Hey.  Hey, Dr. Koby.  Can’t you just leave the birth certificate for now?  Is it so important to signify who I am?  I am.  That’s enough.  You have my foot prints.  I’m not going anywhere on my own.  This can wait.  Your piece of paper means nothing to me.  I only need my babyhood, my childhood and my gender-hood!  Anyway, I’m sure it belongs to me.  What is so damn important about sealing the deal?”

“NOoooo!  Why do you need to designate my gender?  I’m me.  I’m newly born.  I’m starving.  I’m already healing from my first injury.  Why do you need to burden me with gender?  Why label me? Why this annoying wristband on me? Does it really need to signify gender?  I’m not exactly in the position to need a public restroom yet. I just went through a marathon-survival-feat, I need some sustenance not a gender!”

“Give me a break, would you?  You need to understand! I don’t need your seal of approval.  I just made it through the most dangerous, darkest, dampest, scariest canal I think I’ll ever encounter!”

“Why don’t you designate all smells in this room on that little chart of yours, now that might be more useful.  And the lights!  Do you really need to keep pulling them over my face so I’m forced to keep my eyes closed?” 

Voices muffle and I feel myself falling into another deep sleep.  Before feeling lulled away I remember my last clear thought, “How can I map out the colors of my voice?  It looks like I’ll need to use all of them as soon as possible.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GoCQX3AWX6Q   (Holden's voice)

Holden- Born 8-26-90