basketballs, buffalo, and babies
being pregnant isn't for the faint of heart
I am almost 39 weeks pregnant, perhaps more. It depends on whether you date by first ultrasound or second, or fundal height, or mother’s intuition, or some other strange witchcraft.
While I have been working on some meaningful pieces… this is not one of them. Nope - this is a piece sharing some silliness about pregnancy.
I find my brain is a perfect maelstrom of hormones and sleep-deprived hallucinations.
I’m not quite sure what our publishing schedule is going to be like over the next few weeks. I plan to schedule some posts, and I have also invited a few wonderful women to guest write a post on wild & motherly.
This would be a great time to subscribe and share wild & motherly. I think we’re about to be become even more wild and motherly around here. Even if your financial means don’t allow you to have a paid subscription, your sharing and subscribing still helps me be able to afford diapers, which is greatly appreciated!
basketballs and water buffalo
Women. My fellow creatures normally have the good sense to not comment on another woman’s bump unless they already know the woman is pregnant and are providing some hype. Indeed - the receptionist at my chiropractor often tells me how I am a beautiful pregnant lady, and one of the sweet women at my church always comments on how I am the cutest little pregnant lady she’s ever seen. Other friends tell me that if Disney Princesses were shown pregnant, I’d be the model. This. This is the hype I need.
Do I know that I am wearing joggers that are simultaneously too big and too small? Do I know that my shirt keeps riding up and exposing a bit of my belly? Do I know that I have dark circles under my eyes that look deeper than the Mariana trench?
Yes. But I appreciate the hype. Keep it coming.
However… I have also reached the stage where even unknown women feel that they can comment. And I get it… I look pregnant.
I still do not exactly appreciate a woman asking “when is your due date? Or are you just hiding a basketball under your skirt?” Or another woman teasingly calling me “great with child.”
Here is a bit of advice - under NO circumstances should you ask a woman, especially one you think might be pregnant, if she is HIDING any sort of sports equipment on her person. And well… Luke, the author who commented on Mary being “great with child,” is now dead.
One of my professors tells a story about translating the Nativity passage into one of the local languages in Malaysia. He was looking for a way to say “great with child.” It took awhile, and the translation team struggled to find a good equivalent. Finally, they settled on one. My professor went and did translation checks with the community. He noticed that people were unusually quiet in response. It wasn’t the good quiet of the Holy Spirit’s movement, but the quiet consternation of something being not quite right. He asked about the word they had used to say “great with child,” wondering if people were confused about it. They replied that they understood what it meant. Still concerned, my professor checked it with other people in the community. Once again, there was a sense of quiet something amiss-ness. Finally, finally, one brave person spoke up, “we understand the word means being very far along in pregnancy, being great with child, but we only ever use it to describe pregnant water buffalo…”
Unsurprisingly - my professor felt that he and the translation team needed to find a different expression! It felt a little sacrilegious to compare the Theotokos to a pregnant water buffalo.
This story has been on my mind the last few days, as I feel about as graceful as a pregnant water buffalo. I mean, I held up the line for the Eucharist because trying to get myself and Little Man up off the floor where we’d been sitting, coloring during service was an effort. It was one of those moments where people didn’t know whether to just continue forward, ignoring our plight, or wait for us, or to offer assistance. I wanted to wave them all forward, saying that we would walk - or roll or crawl - down the aisle just as soon as we were able.
some of the silliest
I recently compiled some of the silliest things I have said this pregnancy. While some of them make sense in context, many do not. Some of them many only truly be funny if you are as sleep-deprived and emotional as I am.
But, without further ado, is some highlights from wild & motherly’s last nine months.
first trimester
Friend: “You know, your life is like a movie…”
Me: “Yes, I just don’t know if it’s a Hallmark or a horror movie.”
I just feel like it’s an impressive life skill to be able to say that I can load and shoot a flintlock rifle. If I get stuck in a time travel loop - I’m set.
“In the world of women saying, “I just need Jesus and coffee in the mornings, I feel the need to acknowledge that I need PRAYER and PROTEIN. And maybe a cup of tea too.”
second trimester
“Thinking is a strong term for what’s going on in my brain.”
“I’m pregnant, so I never know if I’m having a spiritual crisis or just need another cheese stick.”
Little Man, had a MAJOR meltdown in the bathtub because he asked mommy if she had a certain body part and she said no.
Me recounting the episode to a friend:
“It was one of those - Love Jesus? Love Children? Have a penis? In your thirties or early forties? Want to be married and live with two small children? I’d marry you - moments.”
Baptist Church Lady: Does your conference session have *shudders* dancing?
Me: It’s not just dancing, it’s dancing with snakes!1
“The road trip is off to a great start! We promptly got stranded with a flat tire in the middle of nowhere.”2
Advice to a friend: “Let your standards for your future spouse be even higher than your standards for movie adaptations of your favorite books.”
“Pro tip - if you’re trying to AVOID having Braxton Hicks maybe don’t push a stroller for a mile uphill then ride an one hundred year old carousel.”
Signed the work email for my secular day job with “Amen.”
third trimester
“Motherhood. Bringer of life. Destroyer of pelvic floors.”
“Pregnant single mother warning - I have raging hormones and a tragic backstory.”
“Old people emojis confuse me. I am not sure what the winky face meant. I feel like I am getting involved in some mischievous plot unawares. And I’m like - is this a mischievous plot in the sense of ‘I should wear a little make up and something cuter than leggings with a floppy tee? Like is a nephew dropping by? Or is this like a bring spy gear and wear face paint and be prepped to drive a getaway car? I can roll with either, I’m just not sure how to prep.”
“Nursing covers do not grace the centerfolds of playboy.”
“I would totally co-sleep with baby opossums!”
“Something tells me that starting a conversation with ‘your birthday corresponds to a patron saint of lovers known for having magical eels might be awkward.”
To my two year old son, in a tone of horror and epiphany, “You LIKE peeing on the floor, don’t you?! You like it!”
“Becoming a mother to a little girl has unleashed my inner Disney princess -I want to dress all baby girls (especially mine) like a little princess, I’ve been causing chaos, and bursting randomly into song or tears!”
“I just want to be able to nurse in public without needing to hide away in some dark corner like a crypt creature.”
“Anytime you end an outing with someone completely soaked, and someone else stark naked, you know you had a good time, right?”
in all seriousness
In as much seriousness as can be mustered around here, which isn’t much…
We would appreciate prayers as we transition to a little family of three. Pray for Little Man’s heart as he becomes a big brother. Pray for a smooth delivery (to come very soon - before my primary midwife goes out of town for a few days)! And pray that amid all the wildness of this season, we would feel God’s peace.
Note: no snakes were actually involved in the conference.
Adding to the irony of this situation was that I had had all the tires replaced on Marilla the week before.