"WHERE IS GOD?!" the four year old demanded from her throne (car seat). Her tone would allow no pathetic minion to fail in producing her desire immediately. "Where is he?"
Her wise, older brother rolled his eyes, for, being seven, he was infinitely more knowledgeable in the ways of the world. "God," he declared sagely, "is invisible."
"What," his sister asked, "does that mean?"
"It means you can't see him."
Silence.
Then, the Princess declared with a logician's confidence: "God is a ninja."
"WHAT?!" her brother cried. "No he isn't!"
"Yes! Yes, he is!" she argued, "because I can't see him!"
"MOMMY! Tell her that God is not a ninja!"
Wednesday, May 27, 2015
Friday, May 1, 2015
Thins your Mother Won't Tell You Because She Wants Grandchildren, Part IV: The First Trimester
The greatest irony of pregnancy is that when you most need the love, help, and support of strangers is during the three months when no one can tell that you're pregnant. They can tell that you're bloated, maybe a little more pudgy than they remembered, but not obviously pregnant.
Unfortunately, that's when you find yourself bent over in the canned goods aisle while praying to every God you can think of and a few you made up (God-of-Lost-Earrings) to please, please, please deliver you from puking in the Food Lion.
You would think, thanks to heartwarming TV dramas, that Morning Sickness would cause you to throw up a little, so that 27 minutes into the episode it can be - gasp! - revealed that you are pregnant! Then you instantly get a cute bump and six screen shots later, you're rushing to a delivery room with a vaguely Chris-Pine-looking OBGYN and ninety seconds after that, you're presented with a thoroughly cleaned, pink, non-sobbing infant.
But none of that is true.
In the first few weeks (or months, depending on your distraction), no one knows you're pregnant - including you. You might experience what doctors call 'fatigue', but what actually feels like carrying an 80lb. pack through a swamp. You suddenly hate the smell of food, or you love the smell of food, of you're surprised that you suddenly notice and care about the smell of food. You may experience 'hormonal changes', which means that you will break out in acne and cry over toothpaste commercials.
My personal experience was an earth-shattering, overwhelming, incredible rage. The first time I was unwittingly growing a small person, I had to lock myself in a relative's bathroom to cry; not that cute I-need-a-hug cry, but the vicious I'd-kill-if-I-could-get-away-with-it cry. You may be thinking that is a perfectly normal response to spending Thanksgiving with in-laws, but not in this case. My in-laws are nice people. I was just insane. I sobbed and seethed all the way home, while my bewildered husband attempted soothing, "I don't think it was as bad as you're making it out to be". He said it once. Only once.
The next time I felt that way, I knew that #2 was on her way.
My mother, on the other hand, had no ill effects at all. She told me that she did feel dizzy, once. Once. So when she felt dizzy again, ONCE, she knew that she was pregnant with my brother. But that was it. I remember answering a phone call from her, whispering, "I think - I'm gonna - puke..."
"Oh! That never happened to me," she answered. "You shouldn't have morning sickness. I didn't."
"Uh-huh."
You might be one of those people who gets glowing skin and sparkling eyes and a general feeling of bliss. I hope you are. I wouldn't hate you. Really.
Not much, anyway.
The first 13 weeks are LOOONG. And if you want to Keep It A Secret, it's even harder. You have to plan brilliant excuses for why you're not drinking (I don't drink on Days that have a 'Y' in them) or avoiding caffeine (I'm cleansing my auras) and you have to try to remember who you whispered it to (but your brain has started going). You can't even beg your colleagues to lay off the Jungle Gardenia hand lotion.
No one opens doors for you, or offers to carry groceries, or compliments you on your glow. You're just a desperately pale woman leaning against the cool doors of the Frozen Pizza section for relief. You don't seem pregnant to the customers who avert their eyes - you just look weird and hungover.
If you do decide to keep it a Secret, make sure you have a few friends who know. People who can be gentle with you and send you back to bed, people who will love you enough to go to the grocery store and buy pastrami because you can't go near the Deli anymore since the smell rotisserie chicken makes you gag. And be gentle with yourself!
Your mother will tell you that she planted 14 rice paddies and walked three miles uphill both ways to work while she was pregnant. Women all over the world are pregnant and able to complete triathlons and climb Kilimanjaro and you can't handle the smell of olives?!
In which case, you must retort that you are an educated, globally-minded individual who honors the cultural heritage of Bali. In Bali, any request made in the first 3 months by an expectant mother is believed to be an outworking of the baby's desires. So when someone rolls their eyes at you because you're suddenly ravenous for cheesecake at 4 a.m., just remind them that it isn't you talking at all. It's the baby. And they had better get you that cheesecake right away - because you have to get it swallowed down before the morning sickness kicks in again.
Unfortunately, that's when you find yourself bent over in the canned goods aisle while praying to every God you can think of and a few you made up (God-of-Lost-Earrings) to please, please, please deliver you from puking in the Food Lion.
You would think, thanks to heartwarming TV dramas, that Morning Sickness would cause you to throw up a little, so that 27 minutes into the episode it can be - gasp! - revealed that you are pregnant! Then you instantly get a cute bump and six screen shots later, you're rushing to a delivery room with a vaguely Chris-Pine-looking OBGYN and ninety seconds after that, you're presented with a thoroughly cleaned, pink, non-sobbing infant.
But none of that is true.
In the first few weeks (or months, depending on your distraction), no one knows you're pregnant - including you. You might experience what doctors call 'fatigue', but what actually feels like carrying an 80lb. pack through a swamp. You suddenly hate the smell of food, or you love the smell of food, of you're surprised that you suddenly notice and care about the smell of food. You may experience 'hormonal changes', which means that you will break out in acne and cry over toothpaste commercials.
My personal experience was an earth-shattering, overwhelming, incredible rage. The first time I was unwittingly growing a small person, I had to lock myself in a relative's bathroom to cry; not that cute I-need-a-hug cry, but the vicious I'd-kill-if-I-could-get-away-with-it cry. You may be thinking that is a perfectly normal response to spending Thanksgiving with in-laws, but not in this case. My in-laws are nice people. I was just insane. I sobbed and seethed all the way home, while my bewildered husband attempted soothing, "I don't think it was as bad as you're making it out to be". He said it once. Only once.
The next time I felt that way, I knew that #2 was on her way.
My mother, on the other hand, had no ill effects at all. She told me that she did feel dizzy, once. Once. So when she felt dizzy again, ONCE, she knew that she was pregnant with my brother. But that was it. I remember answering a phone call from her, whispering, "I think - I'm gonna - puke..."
"Oh! That never happened to me," she answered. "You shouldn't have morning sickness. I didn't."
"Uh-huh."
You might be one of those people who gets glowing skin and sparkling eyes and a general feeling of bliss. I hope you are. I wouldn't hate you. Really.
Not much, anyway.
The first 13 weeks are LOOONG. And if you want to Keep It A Secret, it's even harder. You have to plan brilliant excuses for why you're not drinking (I don't drink on Days that have a 'Y' in them) or avoiding caffeine (I'm cleansing my auras) and you have to try to remember who you whispered it to (but your brain has started going). You can't even beg your colleagues to lay off the Jungle Gardenia hand lotion.
No one opens doors for you, or offers to carry groceries, or compliments you on your glow. You're just a desperately pale woman leaning against the cool doors of the Frozen Pizza section for relief. You don't seem pregnant to the customers who avert their eyes - you just look weird and hungover.
If you do decide to keep it a Secret, make sure you have a few friends who know. People who can be gentle with you and send you back to bed, people who will love you enough to go to the grocery store and buy pastrami because you can't go near the Deli anymore since the smell rotisserie chicken makes you gag. And be gentle with yourself!
Your mother will tell you that she planted 14 rice paddies and walked three miles uphill both ways to work while she was pregnant. Women all over the world are pregnant and able to complete triathlons and climb Kilimanjaro and you can't handle the smell of olives?!
In which case, you must retort that you are an educated, globally-minded individual who honors the cultural heritage of Bali. In Bali, any request made in the first 3 months by an expectant mother is believed to be an outworking of the baby's desires. So when someone rolls their eyes at you because you're suddenly ravenous for cheesecake at 4 a.m., just remind them that it isn't you talking at all. It's the baby. And they had better get you that cheesecake right away - because you have to get it swallowed down before the morning sickness kicks in again.
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