“Good morning, lady,” I said to the obviously pregnant lizard on my kitchen porch step. “I see you are about to become a mama.”
I reached for the blossoms from the purple bougainvillea that wraps around the wrought iron railing, hoping to create a soft spot for her on the concrete step. It’s certainly something I hope someone might have done for me if I were in that situation, but Lizzy backed up and glued her body to the facing on the side of the step so that she was in a standing position
It reminded me of a character in Pearl S. Buck’s “The Good Earth,” a novel that depicts family life in a Chinese village. She describes a pregnant woman working in the fields when she gave birth, balancing herself against a tree to drop her baby. No need for birthing classes. She just used her instinct.
I remember thinking of that scene when I gave birth to my daughter in a comfortable bed in a hospital, and wondering if it would have been better if I were standing.
Of course, the mother in the book did not leave her baby under the tree. She strapped it to her back and kept on working the fields. My Lizzy would likely leave her baby on my porch as her friends have done in the past. Since I had read that baby lizards eat plant blossoms, I reached for some more bougainvillea for the babies’ first meal. It turned out I didn’t need very many as the lizette was an only child.
The mama couldn’t leave fast enough. No cuddling. No bottle feeding. No ohs and ahs, not even a farewell kiss on the newborn’s head. Relieved of her load, she left her baby on the porch and waddled away on her now flat tummy. No middle-of-the-night feedings or diaper changes in her future.
I felt a little sad that she’d miss the bonding moments. And I felt even sadder for the lone baby on a bed of blossoms. “Welcome to the world,” I whispered and pledged to bring her fresh blossoms if she was still there in the morning.
Before my sweet Lark kitty died, she walked me to the kitchen door one day to witness a lizard birth through the French door windows. Noses pressed to the glass, we watched the mama leave as soon as she dropped the babies.
Thank you, Larkie, for preparing me to do this solo.
Email patriciabunin@sbcglobal.net. Follow her on Patriciabunin.com