Being Born is Overrated

“Mom! Hello! I’m right here, you know.”

“Yes, I know. And you’ll be right here forever, as you’ve told me. You’re... adamant... Hmm, don’t worry about me. I won’t mind having you weigh me down like a sea anchor so my back always aches and I can never sleep on my stomach and I can’t even have my little glass of wine before dinner that I used to like so much. And I love wearing maternity clothes. I really do. They’re so... stylish.”

“Jesus.” I let out a sigh.

“You shouldn’t take the Lord’s name in vain.”

“Hmm...” I sighed again. “Alright, you win.”

“What was that?”

“I said I’ll come out, if... if it means that much to you.”

“You... You will?” My mom’s eyes opened wide.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Oh good, baby! That makes your mama so happy!”

“But, can I ask you a favor?”

“What?”

“I know I’m supposed to be evicted in like a month or so, but...”

“It’s born, not evicted.”

“Whatever. So can I just hang for a few more months inside? Three months tops! So I can, you know, get used to the idea of being born, and... well, it’ll give me the chance to say goodbye... to in here.”

“Well...” She let out a huff. “I just don’t know.”

“Please, Mom?”

“. . . .”

“Pleeeease.”

“Hhh...” She let out another breath. “Alright, I guess. But just for a month or two.”

“Yes! Three months tops!”

“Well... okay.”

“Thanks, Mom! You’re the best!”

“Hmm... I’m just happy that I’ll finally get to see you.”

(an excerpt from FOTUS)