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The Scent of Dawn

Chavi Yellin

Throughout those years of intense longing, whenever I pictured the moment, it was all roses, sunshine, and pastel-colored bubbles. The euphoria, the glee-filled, tearful phone calls to share the news with the world. The plump pink-faced bundle squirming at my side. It was nothing like that.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

The small, unassuming bottle beckons to me from the store shelf.

I cannot resist. I must have it.

Once outside, I open the Purell hand sanitizer. I splash it over my hands, rub it in, let it dry, and then ... I lift my hands to my nose, close my eyes, and inhale. The strong, sweet alcohol scent transports me to another time and place ... a place where Purell was my entrance ticket to a new world. A world I had anticipated and dreamed about for close to a decade. And when those majestic, gilded doors finally opened for me, it was nothing like I expected.

Three hours after I heard that first, reed-thin cry, I finally mustered up the courage to call my parents. Instead of shouting a highly emotional, “MOMMY! IT’S A BOY!” I softly stammered, “Uh, Mommy? Um, the baby was born tonight.”

Instead of an ecstatic, tearful, “MAZEL TOV!” my mother’s response was a worried, “Mazel tov ... Is everything okay?”


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