My husband and I became parents for the first time. He was 20, I was 18. He took me to the nursery.



I give birth. Oral I am in the process or not I do not remember. I remember only that the thought was constantly revolving in my head, "just not matom." And here is the baby at the midwife, the first whisper. I’m tired and I can’t believe it’s over. And then the midwife throws the phrase out loudly: "Oh, what a Chubaisic!"



My tired brain sees an analogy with electricity and doesn’t understand what it means. He searches for other options, but does not find a decryption. I ask, “In the sense?” “Look what a red man!” And he smiles. I see. How do you know what color your hair is? When was he born here? I can only see that it is shallow, hair is long.



She washed her son, she swallowed, she gave me. And he continues, “Who’s your red? Probably with Dad.” And then I realize that my hair is really red. No one has to be like that. I am light pink. My dad is black. “No,” I answered on the machine, “Our dad is black.” "Mmmm, understandably," the midwife pronounces long and disapprovingly looks at me leaving the chamber.



My brain begins to panic. How is it? What is a genetic disorder? I try to remember what there was in genetics at school. by Fig. What is Genetic Chemistry? I do not remember anything like that. You just gave birth.”



For some reason I was terrified. Stress seems to have affected. I lie down and think how to talk to relatives. Not his husband, but his parents. Really terrible. "How to drink, they will decide what has gone on. I will say the height, I will say the weight, I will not say the color of the hair," I decided.



The nurse just brought me the phone so that I could call my own. He is turned off. It was I before the nursery on the request to "disconnect the phone" instead of the sound to turn off, cut it out silently. I don’t remember the pin. Absolutely. The two. The nurse came in and gave me her phone. I picked up my husband, he dictated me a pin. I call back from my own. When I talked to my mom, it was over an hour. There is nowhere to pull further. It was time to call his parents.



I call. And my mother immediately handed him out to me with an unstoppable tirade in the style of aunt Trindychi: "Oh, we've all learned it ourselves. I got a call half an hour ago. We were told that everything went well, and that a boy, and that 54 cm, and that 4100, and that RED!!!" And a pause. and pause! “Everything floated...” I thought and answered affirmatively. Words have disappeared. I can say nothing more.



And she, apparently, desperately waiting for me to wait for something apart, continues: "Oh, well, you are tired, rest, gain strength! Eat well and be smart. There is milk! Okay, you must be red! Go to my grandfather!” Something else is still talking, but I can’t hear it.



“To my grandfather!” My brain is attached. To your grandfather! Such relief, neither before nor after, I never felt again.



P.S I don't know if my grandfather or my husband and I just combined the genes, but the second son is also red. And the color is even more saturated and brighter than the older man was in his childhood.