Ruby, the Midwife

This is not the birth story, but I’m tickled by Ruby’s imagination and observant nature. I was sitting at the computer this evening, checking e-mail. Ruby came up to me, wearing rubberized garden gloves and carrying an oven mitt from her kitchen, telling me she needed to check my baby (in my belly—yesterday, she looked at my smaller-but-still-pregnant-looking belly and asked, “U have a tiny baby in or’s tummy?”) She proceeded to tell me to “lax” so she could squeeze my baby out. I told her that God made the uterus to squeeze the baby out by itself, but she said she was the midwife, and that she would do it. After a quick delivery (of a footling breech doll), she told me that she needed to clean off the baby before I could hold it (must be a hospital midwife!). After I got my baby back (5 days, according to her), she had to leave because someone else was having a baby. Not exactly what happened 3 days ago (thank God!) but humorous, nonetheless.