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100 Hours of Humo(u)r – Hour 9: This is CNN’s Ugly Baby

By Dana Talusani
Colorado

[The 100 Hours of Humo(u)r continue on Globejotting.com. In hour seven, we had a podcast with Dana and Sachin, who had an, ahem,  scintillating time in Mexico recently. Dana is one of my recent humor writing alums, and I mentioned in the podcast that CNN Headline News published her final assignment from our humor writing workshop. Dana has graciously allowed me to publish it here, thus allowing me to snore for an extra hour.]

 

I didn’t want to have an ugly baby. Having an ugly baby was definitely not in my Birthing Master Plan. In fact, I was confident that my baby was going to be luminously beautiful–hybrid babies always are.

Doubt the beauty of hybrid babies? Two words for you: Halle Berry. Two more words: Lenny Kravitz. Yeah.

That genetic cocktail brewing in my belly? Killer. Genius, even. Would my magnificent creation come out wearing Elie Saab, I wondered?

The first indication that something might be amiss happened after I gave the final push (yelling “Motherfucker!” in my husband’s general direction) and the first word out of the nurse’s mouth was, “Whoa.”

I waited for it. I waited for, “Look at that beautiful baby girl!” I waited for them to place her stunning little body on my chest so I could admire her.

Instead, the nurse hustled her to the weighing station and hissed at the obstetrician, “I thought you said this baby was term.”

So I’m waiting, spread-eagled.

Then the attending nurse exclaims, “Awww. She’s got a Mongolian spot on her butt……boy, that’s a whopper.”

Hello! Waiting here and where the Hell is my champagne?

Curious, my husband ambles over. And then I hear the sonorous sound of his laughter. “Okay, that puppy needed at least another month in there,” he says.

Give. Me. Alcohol. And while you’re at it, can you fork over my dang kid?

“The Apgar’s good,” the head nurse chirps helpfully.

My mother decides to get in on the action. “What’s this Mongolian thinga–?” Damned if she doesn’t giggle, too. “Ronald,” she calls to my father (who is out of the room, terrorized by the birthing process), “The baby has your belly.”

My father oozes into the room. He doesn’t laugh.

“Is it because she came out so fast?” he whispers.

“Like a West German on the luge,” my husband snorts.

The obystetrician is still hunkered between my splayed legs, waiting for whatever gunk needs to come out, and suddenly, I’m royally pissed off.

“Give me my champagne and my baby, you morons!” I holler.

So they do.

It’s a good thing I demanded alcohol, because damn, that’s an ugly baby.

But then I look into those big eyes and that little monkey face, and it’s not so bad and…she shits all over my chest.

Welcome to the world, ugly baby. I vow to love you anyway.

You’ll find more of Dana’s writing at thekitchwitch.com

Published on Saturday, March 2, 2013

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