Love Song For Baby X by Cheryl Dumesnil

Author:Cheryl Dumesnil [Dumesnil, Cheryl]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781935439707
Publisher: IG Publishing

When Tracie arrives home from work, I’m standing at the kitchen counter, swirling a brown herbal concoction in the bottom of a water glass, working my tongue against the roof of my mouth to remove the gritty residue left over from my first sip.

“Hey,” she says, snaking an arm around my waist, looking over my shoulder at the white plastic bottle on the shelf above the sink. “What’s that?”

“I have no clue,” I say. I take another swig then wrinkle up my nose. “Tastes like burnt goat hair with a hint of chocolate.” I set the glass on the counter and pick up the bottle of powdered herbs Katie gave me, flick open the top, and hold it up to Tracie’s nose. “Smell.”

She leans in, takes a whiff, lets go of my waist and turns away, lifting her hands in the air. “Wheew. No thank you.” She rubs her nose, wiping away the stink. “What’s it for?”

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad,” I say, sealing the lid. “It’s . . .” Though the handwritten label spells out an English translation of the Chinese words, I still can’t pronounce the name. “It’s this,” I say, showing Tracie.

“And it’s for . . .”

“I have no idea,” I say. “Katie told me to mix two scoops of it in water and drink it twice a day.”

“What do you mean you have no idea?” Tracie chides.

“I mean I didn’t ask,” I say, looking at the swill in my glass, gearing up for my next sip.

“You didn’t ask? You, the Queen of Research, the Reader of All Ingredients—you didn’t ask?”

I shrug, “Nope. I don’t want to know,” then I knock back the last of the grainy liquid.

It baffles me too, this approach to acupuncture—it’s as though my brain has checked out entirely. I don’t want to know what Katie’s doing. I don’t want to analyze, question, or criticize any part of this treatment. Intellect has moved out of the way, making space for me to receive the full healing power of this age-old tradition I don’t understand. Usually it requires work for me to release my defenses like this, but the minute I crossed the threshold into the Bancroft Center this morning, my defenses were stripped off like the mortal clothes of a cartoon ghost as she passes through a wall. I even scheduled an appointment with an intuitive healer who works there, Laurie, just to see what she has to say. “It’s weird how easy it is to trust this process,” I tell Tracie. “Instinct tells me to turn off my brain. Knowing is Katie’s job. It’s my job to relax and receive.”

* * *

Late for Spanish class, when I rush into my office to grab my backpack, I see the green message light flashing on our phone. I check my watch: I have seven minutes to make a ten minute drive. I pick up the phone and dial in to the message center. “Cheryl? Honey this is Magda Steep from the Infertility Clinic.

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