the tale i do not tell

When Lily was a newborn, I eased her into a feeding schedule that had her nursing every afternoon during A Baby Story . In thirty minutes, Lily would fall asleep in my arms, and I would watch a nice couple talk about finding out they were pregnant. I'd see sonogram pictures and prenatal visits, watch the mom-to-be's family or friends host a backyard cookout in her honor or surprise her with a baby shower. Then, after the second commercial break, the mother would start experiencing contractions and, in the next seven or eight minutes, she would deliver a beautiful, healthy baby. Inevitably, I would start crying.

One time, they started showing the labor after the first commercial break, when the mother should have been sponge painting the nursery wall or getting a pregnancy massage. The labor was going badly. The mother was having a homebirth. She had a history of difficult labors and had been rushed to the hospital during her last birth. The midwife examined the mother and felt a prolapsed cord. Calls were made to arrange an emergency transport and surgical delivery. I started to freak out. A prolapsed cord is bad - really, really bad. They cut to a commercial and I tried to convince myself that they would not be airing the episode if the baby died. But I was worried. This was not the Baby Story I knew and loved. This was scary.

When the show came on again, the mom was being rushed into an operating room. She was crying hysterically. A few minutes later, the obstetrician announced that the baby was healthy and mom was recovering. I began to breathe again. One more commercial break and mom doing something normal like giving the baby a bath. Her surgical scars were hidden under her dress. The happy, lullaby-like soundtrack was back on. The crisis was over.

The one thing I have not written about, that I don't really talk about, is the year after my son was born: the year I went crazy. I've been trying to find a way to tell this story, and I think that in order to have it make sense, I need to start at the beginning. My son's birth day.