Having My Baby

by Imari Jade

  Emily pushed.

  “You can relax,” Doctor Kim said. “It’s almost over.”

  Emily rested for a few minutes.

  “Okay, we’re going to do this one last time,” Doctor Kim said. “This time I need a big push.”

  “I’m thirsty,” Emily whined.

  Bekim fed her some ice chips and then got back into position behind her back and lifted her again.

  “Push,” Doctor Kim said. “A big one.”

  Emily pushed.

  “The head’s out, and now the shoulders and now the rest of the baby,” Doctor Kim said.

  The next thing Bekim heard was a lusty cry.

  “It’s a boy,” Doctor Kim said.

  Bekim giggled like the Joker. “See, I told you, Emily. I got me a son.”

  Doctor Kim chuckled. “Congratulations to both of you, Mr. and Mrs. Lacolmn. You’ll get to see your son as soon as he’s cleaned up and his vitals are taken.”

  “Thanks, Doctor,” Bekim said. “And you too, Emily.”

  * * * *

  Bekim looked down into the gray, possibly in the near future blue eyes of Bekim Alexander Lacolmn, Junior, who had entered the world weighing nine pounds and eight ounces. The boy also had a head of jet-black hair like his father.

  Grandfathers Solomon and Martin passed out cigars to the men and kisses to the womenfolk.

  Emily lay unconscious in her hospital bed from some medication Doctor Kim gave her to relax.

  “I don’t see Emily in the baby,” Solomon said. “Are you sure it’s hers?”

  “He has her attitude,” Bekim said. “He’s a fussy little guy.”

  “He looks just like Bekim did as a baby,” Dora said. “But Baby B has more hair.”

  Bekim shook his head. The poor boy had a nickname already.

  “You’ve spoiled him long enough,” Dora told Bekim. “Let me hold my grandson.”

  Bekim rose from the chair, let his mother sit down, and then handed her the baby.

  “The baby is doomed,” Charity said. “They are going to spoil him rotten.”

  “So will we,” Glenda said. “I saw this precious sterling silver piggy bank in the mall. I think I’m going to drop over there later and get his name engraved on one.”

  Emily moved on the bed but didn’t wake up.

  “Your wife is missing out on all the fun stuff,” Solomon told Bekim.

  “She’ll have all the fun she can stand once she takes the baby home,” Bekim said.

  Dora, Glenda and Charity laughed sarcastically.

  “Yeah, she’ll just love being woken up out of her sleep every night for feedings and diaper changes,” Dora said to Bekim.

  “I plan to help out,” Bekim said.

  “Sure,” Martin said sarcastically. “I think I slept through your first year of life.”

  “You did, dear,” Dora said. “Thank God for the nanny.”

  Bekim saw Emily open her eyes. “Hey, sleepy head.”

  “Hey,” Emily said. “Did I have the baby yet?”

  Bekim chuckled. “Yeah about four hours ago. Don’t you remember?”

  “No,” Emily said. “I have a habit of blocking out things that hurt.”

  “Yes, I know,” Bekim said thinking back to the first night they made love and the morning after.

  Emily dozed off again.

  Bekim bent down and kissed her on the head. “I’m going to miss this crazy doped up Emily.”

  “Yes, she’ll be back to being the Dragon Queen just as soon as she returns to work,” Solomon said.

  “Urg,” Bekim said. “Maybe I should keep her knocked up so she won’t return to work.”

  “Don’t even think about it,” Emily said. “Two Bekims are enough in any family.”

  “I love you, honey,” Bekim said as Emily dozed off again.

  “Right back at you, designer boy.” Emily said.

  The End

  About the Author

  Imari Jade writes from Marrero, Louisiana, where she works full-time as a financial analyst. Her hobbies are reading manga and watching Asian movies. Imari short stories and novellas are features in several Mélange anthologies, and she’s the author of the interracial, multicultural romance, “In Love with a Dark Stranger,” released March 2011. Besides Mélange Books, Imari also writes for Sugar and Spice Press, Eternal Press, Siren-Bookstrand, Phaze Books, Total E-Bound, Passion in Print and just recently published her first Young Adult romance with Noble Books.

  Visit My new Website at:

  http://www.imarijade.com/

  http://www.myspace.com/imarijade

  http://imarijade.blogspot.com/

  Other works by the author with Melange

  Unwrapped Gifts ~ Holiday Treats Anthology

  Wet ~ Love Afar Anthology

  A Girl’s Best Friend ~Must Love Cats Anthologies

  Love Never Dies ~ Halloween Hijinx anthology

  Damnation ~ Forbidden Fruits Digest

  Skinship

  Rock-a-bye-Baby

  by Daphne Olivier

  “Cela! Hey, Cela, come take a look at this. My God, you're never going to believe this.”

  I heard Kane's call from the kitchen. I was busy selecting a menu for our evening meal, but the stunned disbelief in his voice made me switch off the auto-chef and head for the lounge.

  “Believe what?” I asked, but instead of answering Kane gripped my arm and pointed to the Server-screen.

  “Look—a Proc-permit! After all this time, a Proc-permit! Can you credit that?”

  My jaw dropped. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I'm sure.” Kane pressed the remote, the screen brightened and the letters doubled in size. “There, read it yourself.”

  I read it twice, and after the second scan allowed myself to believe that Kane was right. The document had ‘Special Delivery Priority Mail’ printed in bold letters across the top. The words below announced that Kane Barton Jackson, identity number 5682001497, and Cela Serena Jackson, identity number 9847107325, were the winners of the Draw, which took place on 21 July 2335. The recipients were advised that their selection entitled them to procreate and give birth to one live infant within a period of twelve months. Small print warned that if the couple failed to present themselves at the Procreation Centre within seven days, the privilege would be withdrawn.

  I flopped onto the nearest couch. Kane sat down beside me. For a few seconds we just sat there, staring at the server-screen, and then he turned and asked, “So... what do you think?”

  I blinked. “What do you mean? What's there to think about? It's what we've always hoped for, isn't it?”

  He hesitated. “Well, yes, but that was when we were first married. Things have changed since then.”

  “In what way?”

  “Well, let's face it, we're not as young as we used to be.”

  “We're not too old to have a baby,” I pointed out. “Our names would have been removed from the Pool if that was so. The Law is very strict about that.”

  “I know. But, we've been married for over ten years.”

  I could feel my exasperation growing and found it difficult to keep my voice even. “What difference does that make?’

  His voice took on an earnest tone. “A big difference. Look at it this way, Sweetheart. We're settled in our ways, got just about everything we ever wanted, good jobs, this house, the lakeside cottage, the shuttle, Betsy, Bonzo and Kitty. A baby, at this stage, would change everything.”

  Betsy, Bonzo and Kitty were the best models money could buy. Kane and I had paged through the catalogue and spent long hours calculating whether we could afford them, but in the end had decided to go for the best. We'd had no regrets. Betsy was not only smaller and lighter than old-fashioned domestics, but moved so quietly one hardly noticed she was there. Bonzo was a golden retriever, so well constructed it was almost impossible to tell he was not a real dog. Kitty, a blue-eyed Siamese, came from the same factory.

  Kane put an arm around my shoulders,
drawing me close. “I'll go with whatever you want, Sweetheart, but I want you to think things over carefully before you make up your mind.”

  I shook my head vehemently. “There's no need to think. I know what I want. I want...” That was as far as I got before he placed a finger on my lips.

  “Hush. Hush. I want you to listen to what I have to say before you make a decision as important as this. Will you do that?”

  I was disappointed to find Kane wasn't as enthusiastic as I was about the permit, but common sense told me it was only to be expected. Men were different from women. They lacked maternal instinct. And, besides, he was cautious by nature. He liked to turn things over a dozen times before reaching a decision. But he loved me, I knew he did, and it wouldn't do any harm to hear what he had to say. So I nodded and gave him a small smile. “Okay. Go ahead.”

  “I know you want a baby, Honey. I know it's been on your mind since the day we married, but I don't think you realize the implications, or just how much it would disrupt our lives. That's what we need to talk about.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you'd have to give up your job for a start.”

  I tossed my head. “I know. I'm fully aware of that.”

  I liked my job at the library. I liked the people I worked with, I liked browsing through old books and manuscripts, and there was satisfaction in knowing that converting all that data to microchips and preserving it forever was a worthwhile job. It would be a wrench to give it up, but staying home to look after a baby would more than make up for it.

  “Babies cry and need their nappies changed,” Kane went on. “They need to be fed every few hours. They're messy little devils. And when they grow older they run around breaking things.”

  “I know. I know.” And I really did know because although I’d never actually held a real, live baby in my arms, I’d read enough about them. That was what I enjoyed so much about my job. There was plenty of time to read, and a mountain of books to choose from, ancient books written before the Catastrophe. And piles and piles of magazines. The ones I liked best had titles such as, ‘Mother and Baby’, ‘The Toddler’, ‘Your Baby’, and ‘Baby Talk’. They contained articles about how to cope with temper tantrums, potty training, bedwetting, sibling rivalry and breastfeeding, to name but a few. I had found a book written by a man called Dr. Spock most fascinating of all, and read it from cover to cover at least six times.

  Kane’s voice cut into my thoughts. “I’m making a suggestion. It’s only a suggestion, Sweetie, so don't get in a state. But I’d like you to think about it for a few minutes."

  “Think about what?”

  “About adopting a RoBaby.”

  I sighed. We’d discussed the pros and cons of adopting a RoBaby more times than I could count. Most of our friends had accepted the fact there was little chance of them ever winning a Proc-Permit, and settled for adopting one, or even two, RoBabies. Kane had been keen to follow their example, but some instinct, deep inside of me, would not allow me agree. I did not want a baby made from Nu-plasma and wire and goodness knows what else. I'd grown attached to Bonzo and Kitty in the way one grows fond of a favourite toy, and Betsy was a real treasure, but the thought of nursing a RoBaby made me shudder.

  I didn’t feel like going over the old argument again, but knew that making a scene would get me nowhere, so I nodded and said, “Okay, I'm listening.”

  Kane smiled. “Good girl. I only want what's best for us, and there's a lot to be said for RoBabies.”

  “Such as?” I knew the answer, but asked anyway.

  “They're cuddly and cute and smile and gurgle and coo, just like real babies. They cry too, but stop when they’re told. They never get sick. They sleep through the night and don’t whimper and whine if their mother forgets to feed them. Or change their nappy. RoBabies are smart, much smarter than real children. Most are programmed to talk right from day one. And there are thousands to choose from, all ages, all sizes, little redheads, blonds, brunettes, any colour and shape you fancy. If you get tired of the one you have, you can trade it in for a new model.” Kane gave me an encouraging smile. “What do you say, Cela? Why not give it a try?”

  I shook my head and jutted my jaw. “No, that’s not what I want. I want a real baby, a baby that cries because it’s hungry, or itchy, or tired, or just wants to be picked up and spoilt. A baby that needs me. Please, Kane, please.”

  He turned to search my face. “You’re sure that’s what you want”?”

  “Quite, quite sure. Oh, Kane, it's what I want more than anything.”

  He hesitated a moment longer, then bent to kiss me. “Right. That’s that then. I want you to be happy, Sweetheart. If you’re absolutely sure this is what you want, I’ll go along with it.”

  I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him right back.

  * * * *

  I could hardly contain my excitement when Kane and I climbed into the shuttle and set off for the Proc-Centre the following morning. From my window, I could see the city spread out below, a sprawl of houses, each surrounded by an expanse of green. Tree-lined streets crisscrossed the landscape, and here and there I glimpsed a lake set in a spacious park. No smog, no squalor, no slums. Not a high-rise building in sight. It was hard to believe that little more than a century ago, the city had teemed with tens of millions of people, jam-packed together like rats in an overcrowded cage.

  It struck me that life might have gone on in the same way forever, if the X-virus had not appeared from nowhere, and decimated one city after another as it circled the globe. I was glad I'd been born in the new world, where such a catastrophe would never be allowed to happen again, but felt a little sad at the thought that so many pleasant things had disappeared with the bad. Like stork-parties and baby-showers and Father Christmas and stockings filled with toys. And nursery rhymes. One I'd come across in the library archive came back, and I began humming it under my breath, “Rock-a-bye baby on the tree top, when the wind blows the cradle will rock...”

  We sped on, skimming trees and rooftops, then a flash of silver caught my eye and there was the Dome. The shuttle shot toward it. As we drew closer I saw the words, ‘Procreation Centre’ printed in bold letters across the roof. The shuttle slowed, hovered above the parking lot, then the anti-grav clicked off, and we slid into a vacant pod.

  The shuttle doors opened. Kane and I stepped out and made our way along a well-marked walkway, through a revolving door, into a large hall. A Robo-receptionist welcomed us. She checked our names and identity chips, punched data into her terminal, produced personalized admittance cards, one for each of us, then escorted us to a room occupied by a distinguished-looking, grey-haired man.

  He rose from his desk and held out a hand as we came in. “Welcome and congratulations! It is always a pleasure to meet prospective parents. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Dr. Mendoza, your Genetic Modification Councilor. But, take a seat. Make yourselves comfortable. When you are settled it will be my duty to advise you of all available modifications. We will then record your preferences”

  I stared. “Modifications?”

  “Genetically modified characteristics. We want to make sure your baby will be adequately equipped to cope with the challenges of the new era.”

  Kane opened his mouth to reply, but I got in before him. “Thank you, Dr. Mendoza, but we don’t want modifications. We just want an ordinary little baby. Isn’t that so, Kane?”

  Dr. Mendoza’s eyebrows shot up, then he leaned back in his chair and regarded me with stern, disapproving eyes. “Do you realize how privileged you are, Mrs. Jackson? Do you know how many couples would give everything they own to change places with you?”

  A chill ran through me. The thought that the permit might be withdrawn made me nod, and I stumbled over the words in my haste to answer. “I know. I’m fully aware of that. And we’re ever so grateful. I can’t tell you how grateful.”

  He leaned forward and smiled. “Good. Well then, let me to give you some advice.
If your pregnancy was allowed to take place haphazardly, without modification and constant supervision, there’s a risk the baby might be born with a malformation of some kind. Or mentally impaired. Do you really wish to take that chance?”

  This time Kane got in before me. “Of course not. We’ll do whatever is necessary to make sure our baby is born whole and healthy.” He turned to me. “You agree with that, don’t you, Cela?”

  I nodded. A malformed baby was the last thing I wanted.

  “Very sensible,” Dr. Mendoza exclaimed. He punched a button on his keyboard, then looked up and smiled. “We have a new cell-regeneration implant. Would you like me to add that to your list of requirements as well?”

  “What effect does it have?” Kane asked.

  “It enables the baby to repair damaged cells the moment an injury or infection occurs. It means, in effect, that your child will never get ill, and if injured, will recover in a very short time.”

  “Sounds good,” Kane said. “What do you say, Cela, shall we include that as well?”

  I hesitated, and for a moment thought of saying no, but it seemed such a sensible thing to agree to. After all, how could any mother deny her child good health when it was in her power to ensure it? Besides, I was conscious of Dr. Mendoza’s eyes on me. “Okay. Put it on the list.”

  “Now, what about the sex of the child?” Dr. Mendoza asked. “Would you prefer a boy or a girl?”

  I didn’t mind one way or another and would have preferred to leave it to chance, but Kane’s face lit up, and for the first time showed a spark of enthusiasm. “A boy. I would really like a son.” He turned to me, brows raised, a question in his eyes. “That’s if it’s okay with you?”

  I shrugged and gave him a smile. “Fine. That’s fine with me.”

  Dr. Mendoza pressed another button, then turned his attention to the next item on his list. “Intelligence. There are various levels to choose from. We don’t recommend below average, but you may choose average, above average, superior or genius. Each level is categorized by universally accepted IQ ratings. What is your preference?”