Eleven years ago, at dawn on December 9th, my youngest daughter was born. She was born at home. My crazy midwife looked like a dandelion that had gone to seed, and she brought another midwife to back her up who was herself so heavily pregnant that I thought I might have to duke it out for their attention. I was two weeks late, as usual, and the evening of the 8th was the moment when we began calling all the relatives to explain that the midwives would refuse to handle the birth after midnight and we would go to the hospital to have an induction the next day. Suddenly, as Mr. Aimai was 'phoning his parents, labor started and we hung up on them and started calling the midwives instead. Labor starts slowly and it was a Buffy Night (it was "Ted" for the cognoscenti). I made it through that and a little Martha Stewart before the whole thing became so "involved" (don't you love this language) that I had to really start cursing. I labored all night and in the morning she was born in my own bedroom, at the foot of our bed. She came out fighting, fully in the caul, and when the Midwife broke it so she could breathe she responded by biting the midwife's finger. The first words she heard were "she's in the caul!" and "Ow! She bit my finger!" We are born between laughter and pain and the laughter, if we are lucky, makes up for the pain.
Every mother thinks her children are extra-ordinary, wonderful, delightful, talented, delicious, full of life, to be enjoyed. Its all true and I make no special claims about my kanchi chori. But on this day I find myself watching this amazing video and thinking how proud his mother must be of him. My girl is a dancer, and a dreamer, and a visionary, and a hard headed realist at the same time. I hope that someday she will follow her absurd dreams and produce something as simple, meaningful, and wonderful as this.