Delivery

Coming back from the dentist, half my face
still numb from the lidocaine and epinephrine
injected in my gums, I listen to a woman 
on the radio who's telling the story of 
giving birth to her baby at home. What's
remarkable is that she was around three
weeks over her due date. Her midwife
tells her to believe her body knows
what it is supposed to do, and her un-
born child too. All turns out well
in that story: a child weighing over 
ten pounds, with ten fingers and toes.
Would I have been as brave, as trusting? 
There was a time in the annals of medical 
science when it was believed babies knew 
no pain. I cringe, imagining the trauma 
and shock when they might have needed
surgery. The woman on the radio repeats, 
the body is wise and knows what to do. 
There is instinct, and there is also pain.
I know from experience the numbness
in my mouth will wear off in a few 
hours, after which I can eat and drink
but carefully, since I only have 
temporaries over my back molars.
The body is wise in many ways. But
the body breaks, can be broken.
The body also needs so much support. 
The dental assistants talk about making 
a mold for constructing the bridge 
I need. They've modeled it after 
the shape of that part of the interior 
of my mouth, a wet cave they flush dry
with air every few minutes. One shines 
her headlight over a spot that needs 
more buildup, and suctions up any 
loose material. I am told to return 
in two weeks for the delivery 
of the final product.