The Tangled Birth

The Tangled Birth

Campari Mongolia had a tangled birth. 

She came out fine. 

Slipped out like a pickle in the hands of lotion. 

It was everyone else that was tangled around her, even the nurses! The doctor too!

Imagine that. 

You actually don’t have to imagine because I am about to tell you Campari Mongolia’s story of a tangled birth.

She was born at precisely 3:22 a.m March 23 1935. She came 6 ½ days before her due date. Maybe that’s why everyone was tangled, they simply were not expecting her.

Campari Mongolia had ruby red ringlets, no, not a fiery orange like most gingers. But red. Red like a bat out of hell (as her father said). Maybe she was getting too hot in the oven, so that’s why her hair came out so red.
Her weight was 9 ½ pounds 20 inches. Large. Surprising as her mom was a petite woman; small frame, 22 inch waist,  5’2 and 3/4. All of her friends were jealous of her as she didn’t put on any weight when she was pregnant with Campari. A cute pregnant woman that seems to be in no pain. (Cori was her name) just got hot flashes. Maybe it was Campari Mongolia that caused them. 

Most babies come out bare. Smooth like the petal of a rose between your finger tips. Campari was not. 

She was covered in peach fuzz-perhaps more like gorilla hair-painted down her back.

Despite her ringlets, her hair formed a mohawk shape when she was born. 

But let’s get back to the tangled birth. 

At precisely 5:00 p.m. on March 22 1935 Cori suddenly had to stop chomping on her saltines and can of sardines as she noticed a pile of water beneath her feet. 

“Oh my!”

“What is it sweetheart?” yelled Mr. Mongolia from the couch where he drank a glass of bourbon filled precisely  ⅓ up and held the Minnesota Weekly in front of him. He read the comics. He refused to read anything else.

“Our baby is coming! She’s coming! Out of the oven! Into the world! She’s coming, she's coming!” 

Mr. Magnolia sprang up to his feet like a peacock about to get hit by a car

“I’m going to be a father!. A father…. A dad? A papa… a pop! A pop! That’s what my baby will call me! Pop!”

Mr. Magnolia ran to the kitchen but took a few more steps than he should have and ran right into the puddle. 

His feet tangled under him like a rope you would tie in boy scouts and he fell smack on his gluteus maximus!  

“Oh my…. Are you ok sweetheart?” said Mrs. Mongolia

“YES! Quite fine!” He sprang up so fast his feet became tangled beneath him and he almost fell again. 

Despite his wet pants he exclaimed: “Let’s get on with it! Our baby is coming!”

As they drove to go to the hospital the Mongolias sang: “She'll Be Comin Round The Mountain When She Comes” as they weaved in and out of traffic creating a pattern of a woven braid with their tire marks. There was no time to waste. 

The hospital was precisely 3.2 miles away from them. 

It would usually take them 12 minutes. 

Under Mr. Mongolia’s driving conditions, it took them 7 minutes and 48.3 seconds.

Mrs. Mongolia was beginning to overheat, her face red like a tomato. Perhaps a better analogy would be red like Campari’s head would be in precisely 10 hours. 

Up and down as if it would help her did Mrs. Mongolia’s hand wave for that drive. 

Unfortunately, Mr. Mongolia hates driving with the windows down-he claims it hurts his ears, that is the one fact Mrs. Mongolia wishes she could change about him. Sometimes, he is just so uptight she wonders what would happen if she went through every nook and cranny of the house making a mess of every last thing and opening up each window. Mrs. Mongolia wonders if Mr. Mongolia would leave her then. 

She looks across at him and sees a dribble of sweat paint down his face and release to his shirt causing a stain. 

No. Never. 

They arrive at the hospital at 5:23 PM. As the doors open Mr. Mongolia yells to the crowded room, “Make way! She’s coming! My baby is coming!”

“Our baby.” Mrs. Mongolia mumbles, but her words were too tangled for anyone else to understand. 

They are rushed to a double room where a curtain separates them and another couple. The Mongolia’s wanted a private, but this once big inconvenience will both disappear in the Mongolia's mind after Campari pops out. Problems always seem much bigger than they really are don’t they?

Mr. Mongolia fluffs the pillow beneath Mrs. Mongolia’s head, he then straightens her sheets, straightens the bed, brushes a piece of hair off Mrs. Mongolia's face, and fluffs the pillows once more. 

“You have already fluffed my pillows dear.” Mrs. Mongolia states.

“Did I?”

“Take a seat dear. I am quite well.”

“Ok sweetie.”

Mr. Mongolia wishes he brought his Minnosata Weekly, he wonders how long he will be sitting here with nothing to do but fluff pillows. 

The hours stretch along the length of the hospital as the centimeters of Mrs. Mongolia grow and grow and the length between her contractions shrink and shrink. At last the doctor exclaims she is at 10 centimeters.

“She’s coming!” Mr. Mongolia exclaims! He begins to sing: “She’ll Be Coming Around The Mountain When She Comes” once again. 

As she is wheeled into the delivery room Mrs. Mongolia notices the doctor's coat is tangled. He crashes into one of the nurses as they enter the room. 

“All right Mrs. Mongolia, as your contractions come I will ask you to push. It will be painful. But over before you know it. I promise.” His left side of his mouth creeps up to a slight smirk.

“Knees up please.” He orders. 

Mrs. Mongolia pulls her knees to her chest and entangles her arms beneath them. 

Mr. Mongolia knows that he finally has a task and entangles his own arms around Mrs. Mongolia's back and legs. They will shortly discover Mr. Mongolia's watch got tangled to Mrs. Mongolia's hospital gown. 

Mrs. Mongolia’s birth only lasted 10 minutes. Here’s what happened in those 600 seconds that led to Campari Mongolia having a one of a kind, never before seen, quite unimaginable tangled birth. 

“PUSH!” The doctor exclaims

The two assistant nurses scream with glee as they both rush over to the assistant table to get the materials ready. 

“I’LL GET THE TOWEL!”

“NO ME!”

They scramble with the towel in their hands so much it ends up creating a braided knot. 

“WHAT NOW!!!!????” They both yell. 

Mr. Mongolia feels he is needed to help these helpless nurses.

“Ladies, quiet down!” He exclaims as he releases his grip on Mrs. Mongolia’s leg and stands up. But his watch attached to Mrs. Mongolia’s hospital gown keeps him tied down.

“Oh my.” He states. 

Mrs Mongolia continues to push and scream. 

“SHE'S CROWNING!” The doctor shouts. 

“She’ll be comin round the mountain when she comes! She’ll be coming around the mountain when she comes….” Mr. Mongolia sings and sings again. 

“Ladies. The towel please.” The doctor extends his hand as the nurse backs up in his direction. The doctor's hand misses the towel and gets tangled in the nurse's hair which extends in a long braid down her back.

“My my, I’ve never given birth with one hand before” ponders the doctor.

By now Mongolia's delivery room looks like a strange modern dance piece that wishes to comment on human connection. 

At this point Campari Mongolia is just about out. 

Mrs. Mongolia gives one last push and screams until her throat aches. 

The doctor stands up but his tangled coat has now gotten tangled on the stool he was sitting on. This means the stool comes up with him.

Mr. Mongolia forgets about his tangled watch and yanks himself up to see Campari. This means Mrs. Mongolia comes with him. 

The Nurses forget about the tangled braid and stretch over to see Campari. This means the tangled towel comes with them. 

The tangled room stares over this life. 

Ruby red ringlets that stand in a mohawk, orange gorilla fuzz painted down her back, and green emerald eyes.

“I’m naming her Campari. Campari Mongolia.” Mrs. Mongolia states. 

Wrapped in the tangled towel, with the tangled adults hovering above her. Campari interlaces her hands as she becomes entangled in her mothers arms for the very first time.