911 what’s your emergency? … We will send an ambulance right away Ma’am, stay where you are.
Flashing red lights followed by a buzzing whistle approached our house. The paramedics entered forcibly through the door to pick us up, and carried us into their vehicle. While we were on our way to the hospital, the paramedics were checking us for any type of harm.
Their fingers pressed lightly into my neck. I could feel how my arms trembled out of fear as I carried my hidden baby in both of my hands, trying to contain the sweat that came from them so she wouldn’t slip away, and at the same time, trying to keep my nails from breaking. I had just got them done. I was hiding my baby from the paramedics in a cloth. I had to, or else they would have taken her away from me.
Can you tell me what your name is?
A tiny flashlight examined my pupils from one eye to the other, while the rest of the paramedics mumbled in the background. My sudden tears created a fogged sheet that covered my entire eyeball, and every teardrop hunched me down into misery. I didn’t care about my eyeliner anymore because it had already smeared down my face. As my tears faded away, I tried to look at her, but everytime I tried, my heart jumped out of my tanned chest, as well as the stitches of my new improved nose I had just operated.
It was my fault. I did this.
We’re going to check your injured area Ma’am, if something hurts, just tell us.
I kept quiet. I looked away, closed my eyes, and took out my baby from the cloth by her soft, bulky head and delicately placed her in the position she had had her final heartbeats in. The paramedics backed away from me and my injured chest. I felt how my baby’s head dropped and rested in my boiling, pumping, naked breast. I couldn’t open my eyes, but my breathing got heavier. Every possible outcome of how I had burned her crossed my mind, making me weep in emotional agony, and as I reminded myself to be strong, I started to look down. My head kept rewinding to the same position, so I could stop myself from seeing her. But it was time to see the mistake I had done.
Is your baby OK? Let me take her, we will take care of her…
The paramedics cracked voice seemed frightened. While he reached his hands for my baby, I turned around intensely. Taking my baby closer to me, so I could feel her. That made the paramedics jump out of fear. My grief, and the sticky mascara prevented me from opening my eyes. I helped myself by counting to three, and there she was. Her eyes as blue as I had always wanted. Her rosy, chubby cheeks, her smooth head, and her burned mouth. Her melted lip skin hung down, and her breathing was poor.
Let us help her. She seems really hurt… what happened?
What happened? I could finally admit it. All my life I have always wanted to be the perfect woman, a female who was envied by women as well as men. With the ideal elevated nose and a curved silhouette. But I also wanted to be the perfect mother. A mother who cherished her children more than herself by giving them what they need. I now realize, both of those things can’t be held at the same time.
The memory of myself that day at 3:00pm in the afternoon was vivid. My favorite channel was on, “Baywatch.” Hot bodies everywhere. As I lay on my couch I thought it would be good to feed my baby for the first time. Excitement was everything I could feel and think… A perfect mother. But, that feeling ended as soon as my baby, my beautiful Chelsea, put her mouth on my breast.
My ears immediately stinged profoundly as she started screaming. I looked down and realized I could never be a perfect mother. If I wanted to be a perfect mother, I would have to be a flat chested woman like I was before my surgery. Hot silicon was coming out of my nipple, as if it was a pimple. I screamed as Chelsea’s face was being burned with blazing plastic.
I wrapped Chelsea in a soft cloth, and rushed towards my phone.
911 what’s your emergency? …