Exotic Vacation

When it came time to take the babies home, I was terrified in a very familiar way. When was the last time I’d felt this way? I racked my brains and came up with the sensation of learning that I could not leave the Soviet Union earlier than planned because I did not have an exit visa. Not that I didn’t love being there. But it was an Exotic Vacation. I’d never intended to stay there permanently, and the idea that I couldn’t just up and leave and return to my former life was terrifying.

I realized that I’d approached the birth of my children like an Exotic Vacation. Not comfortable or relaxing but very, very interesting. The spinal tap was interesting—the absence of feeling below the chest, given my assurance that feeling would return in a few hours. Being sliced open while fully awake was interesting; with the assurance that I’d be sewn back up in a few minutes. Having two babies pulled screaming and sneezing out of me was the high of a lifetime. When both of them were sucking hungrily at my breasts an hour later, I understood the power of the life force as never before.

But then five days later I was taking these two little creatures home with me. But what had been New was now Permanent.